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[marcoh1234]

Becoming What You Hate

By: abstractvanity32

Mallory was annoyed, she wanted to get back at the jocks that were making her boyfriend’s life a living hell. She wanted to take revenge, and she found a formula that would make those jocks taste their own medicine. The formula was in another language, and she didn’t really know how it worked. 

Mallory tried to translate the wordings, as she thought it said she needed something from the jocks. She had a pair of shorts she snatched from one of them and poured the liquid on it. As she did it, the liquid splashed onto her. Mallory still had no idea what this was gonna do. 

Mallory felt a stinging from the spot that got on her. Her body began to cramp, as her hands got larger and her fingers began to bulge. Mallory’s eyes widened, as she saw the veins from her hands down to her biceps bulging. Her breathing got heavier, as her arms and legs began to get longer. 

Mallory’s body was growing and expanding at a rapid rate. Muscle began to swell and bulk. Mallory’s hair began to darken and recede into her head, as her breasts shrank and began to firm. Her frame was broadening and growing. 

His biceps began to bulge, as it spread down to his forearms. “Holy shit. This wasn’t supposed to happen” Mallory said, as his feet began to grow and expand. His socks began to rip apart, as he had to adjust his stance from his larger feet. They continued to grow, as his legs and thighs hardened and thickened. 

“This is right. I’m getting. So RIPPED” Mallory said, as his voice suddenly dropped. He began to flex his massive arms, as he was becoming what he hated. His clothing was ripping apart, as his toned torso was revealed. “Fuck yeah” he said rubbing his firm pec, as his nipples got smaller. 

His body was now harder and firm, as his ass began to follow. He grunted, and thrusted, as his new manhood grew and formed between his legs. His features began to harden and change. His browline thickened, as his nose got larger. 

Demetrios howled, as his body finished increasing in size. He was in his complete glory, as he admired his body. He had no idea where he was or what he was doing there, but he had a strong urge to drink and fuck. 

A meek guy walked into the room to see Demetrios in his full glory. “What are you looking at fag?” He screamed, as the guy saw the destroyed clothes of his girlfriend Mallory.

[aardvarkia]

Luke of Stripland

Originally posted on Patreon in September 2022. Join now to get stories when they first go up, along with exclusive artwork and my Discord! There's a new collection of vignettes on the way...and also unseen too-hot-for-Tumblr HQ artwork for THIS VERY STORY!

WORDS by Aardvark ILLUSTRATIONS by Morphiria

The 2014 Nissan Altima did not seem like it was on a mission. It came to a complete stop at every sign and navigated the city streets without going above a respectful 35 miles per hour. The horn sat untouched.

The Nissan’s driver, a young man named Luke Lancaster, looked calm, too. He’d always been good at keeping his wits about him, and the last few years of advanced academic tests had sharpened this skill even further. Unlike a quiet classroom, his car at least provided alternative rock wafting from the stereo to cover up the sound of his own heartbeat. But Radiohead was doing nothing to distract from his frantic thoughts.

Luke kept jerking his head down into his passenger seat, where his phone sat displaying a screenshot he’d taken of his buddy Colton’s story. “TOOLSHED TONITE,” the ad said, “IF U WANNA SEE ALL OF IT.” The ‘it’ in question was evidently Colton’s genitals, which were basically on view already; the picture he’d posted depicted him entirely nude save for some strategically placed chains.

Luke wasn’t gay, but he had to admit Colton looked incredible, if you were into the extremely muscular look. When they’d met two years prior at the start of their Masters program, Colton was slender and rode his bike everywhere. Luke saw him countless times staying late into the evening in the graduate student lounge working on an assignment or paper, but never once lifting heavy weights at the university gym. Even at the start of the current semester, Luke didn’t remember Colton looking any different than he had before. And he certainly didn’t seem like the kind of guy who was going to put on 75 pounds of muscle, drop out of school, and become a stripper who insisted that everyone call him Colt. 

But as far as he knew, Colton hadn’t stripped publicly yet. It’d been all private events and bachelorette parties. Luke knew this because he’d had lunch with Colton a week before at Pepperjacks, their go-to sandwich spot. Colton walked in wearing a neon green tank top, his skin the color of overripe mango. He’d prattled on about how he stifling he thought academia was, how excited he was to finally embrace his hotness and “become Colt,” and how he was ready for the world to see him as a bodybuilding exotic dancer who loved to party and fuck, rather than the studious, skinny cyclist he once was.

And that was why Luke was worriedly zipping across town to make it to The Toolshed, the region’s only male strip club. Colton seemed to believe that performing for an audience was what would lock him into his new life of hedonism, and he appeared to be excited for that to happen. So when Luke saw the ad go up on social media, he decided he’d go intercept his friend and try to talk him out of making a mistake that he’d regret for the rest of his life.

What Colton was doing made no sense to Luke. For as long as they’d been in a cohort together, Colton had always come across as thoughtful, well-spoken and, as he had often confided to him in the past over coffee or a lunch in Erlick Dining Hall, passionate about his goal to attain his MBA. He’d always been quite open about his desire to use his Master’s to gain solid footing in the business world, perhaps command a six-figure salary, and set himself up to make a positive contribution to society that his family could be proud of. And he was so close to his goals now, wrapping up the writing of this final thesis about management information systems under Professor Jordan Edelstein. It both disheartened and puzzled Luke: why would someone give all that up to turn themselves into an oversexed muscle freak eager to waste all the hard work that was already done?

And now that Luke thought about it, Colton didn’t even look like himself anymore. His face had morphed into a square-jawed gay fantasy. Maybe it was plastic surgery, and maybe the muscles were put on quickly thanks to steroids. The steroids could also be why his voice was deeper. But Luke couldn’t explain why Colton was taller. Maybe he added lifts in his shoes…?

Incubus was on the old rock station. “Hold the wheel and drive,” Brandon Boyd sang. Luke took his advice and focused on the road.

That focus was disrupted by a chime on his phone, indicating that he was coming up to the address listed in the ad for The Toolshed. But at a first glance, he was puzzled by the building in front of him. It was bigger and nicer than Luke expected, with the exterior made of chrome and looking new - a far cry from the burnt-out gentlemen’s clubs Luke would sometimes see neon signs for when driving down the highway. And aside from the logo of a muscular man and a stray pride flag fluttering on the side of the building, there was little indication that the place was even a strip club at all. 

It was early in the evening, so there were plenty of parking spots. And even better, there was no doorman yet to block him from walking in. As he passed the entrance, Luke wondered if male strip clubs even had doormen. After all, if the dancers were all as buff as Colton was, they could just double as doormen, let the crowd in, and then take their clothes off for them. Luke chortled at the thought, as well as the idea of Colton being a tough guy, despite his big steroid muscles. With the way New Colton acted, even if someone in the crowd was brandishing a knife, he would probably still fist-bump them and call them his bro. Then again, if he’d had plastic surgery, maybe he’d be the first to run because he wouldn’t want to risk ruining the work done on his pretty face. Why was Colton’s face suddenly so pretty anyway…?

Shaking his head, Luke stuffed the questions down and tried to saunter in casually. He’d never been good at sauntering. He wasn’t cool, and he’d stopped trying to be in undergrad. He was too in his own head to be cool anyway – an overthinker, everyone always said. But he didn’t overthink everything. At this stage of his degree, he often had to dress to make a good impression – whether it was at his accounting internship or attending another job fair. So when left to his own devices, he didn’t put much thought into his appearance, and truth be told did not really want to. But despite himself, he was now starting to wish he had. 

The crowd at The Toolshed was far more put together than he expected, wearing an eclectic combination of trendy tees, clear skin, and hip haircuts in varying hues. It was in sharp contrast to Luke’s baggy gray henley, well-worn jeans and untamed mop of brown curls. Catching sight of himself in the mirror behind the bar, he grimaced at his patchy whiskers that hadn’t gotten the memo that he was now in his twenties. And as an abdominally-gifted twink swished up to the bar in a half-tee and short shorts combo, Luke recalled all the junk food binges he’d relied on for managing his late-night studies. Maybe before he tried breaking whatever spell Colton was under, he could get some tips from his friend on how to get rid of his stomach flab.

Trying to blend in while feeling so out of place was difficult, but Luke did his best. He got some water from the hydration station at the end of the bar and walked around to familiarize himself with his surroundings.

In an instant, Luke realized that the subtlety of The Toolshed’s exterior was nowhere to be found on the inside. The door handles and lighting fixtures were unmistakably phallic in shape. TVs hung along the walls constantly played footage from 1980s bodybuilding contests and workout videos, featuring no shortage of sweaty men in neon-colored thongs thrusting their pelvises straight at the camera. And above each of the VIP booths - furnished with black leather seating, of course - hung giant framed prints of impossibly buff, well-endowed men in flagrante: sailors, cops, bikers, and lumberjacks flirting, fucking, and loving every second of it. 

Curious, Luke walked closer to one of the larger prints, which depicted two leather clad beefcakes standing face-to-face and bulge-to-bulge. In the bottom right corner, he was able to discern a simple signature in capital letters: TOM. “If he wants to get famous, he’ll need a more distinctive name than that,” Luke huffed. But he had to admit all the drawings were impeccably done. And they were certainly…detailed. 

Luke looked away from them, embarrassed. They weren’t what he was here for anyway. He anxiously chugged water and continued his sweep of the place, hunting for doors that looked like they might lead backstage. He spotted the bathrooms first, then a swinging door by the bar that looked like it led to the kitchen.

And then, he saw it. Or at least he was pretty sure he did. A black door, unmarked, set off to the left of the seating area, next to a DJ booth. It had to lead to at least a green room, if not the dressing rooms.

But he couldn’t go through it, at least not yet. Ironically, there weren’t enough people around. He needed more of a crowd milling about to block the view of the staff, then he’d slip in. If someone asked what he was doing, he could feign drunkenness and say he was looking for the toilet.

If pretending to be drunk was a possibility, then he’d need to drink something other than water to sell the act. He didn’t much care for drinking, and only did it in social settings where he’d feel conspicuous without a cocktail in his hand. At least here he was presumably in a place where he wouldn’t be judged for not drinking beer. The bartender behind the counter - a leanly muscled stud in a black t-shirt so tight his veins showed through it - certainly hadn’t been consuming many IPAs.

“‘Sup,” was all the bartender said, his biceps bulging as he popped the caps off of two Bud Lights.

“Hi, can I have a whiskey ginger?” Luke said, ordering his go-to.

“Sure thing.” The bartender turned and reached for a bottle of Jack Daniels, his lats unfolding like the wings of a dragon. Luke wondered if he doubled as a dancer, but decided not to ask. He didn’t want the guy to get too good of a look at him.

“Got a tab open?” the man asked as he set the drink on the bar in front of Luke.

Luke shook his head and slid over a $20 bill that he’d intended to use for laundry. He hadn’t budgeted for a drink. He made a mental note to update his spreadsheet once he got home.

The bartender left Luke and walked to the other end of the bar, where a tall Asian man in head-to-toe Adidas flagged him down. “Some liquid courage, bro?” the man asked, and the bartender poured two shots of vodka, which they took together. Based on the guy’s look - overly muscled with a tiny waist, spray-tanned skin, and bleached teeth, just like Colton - Luke guessed he was a stripper. His big pecs hovered over the bar, barely covered by a track jacket that was unzipped far enough to show that he was shirtless under it. The men milling around him regarded him with awe, their lusty glances overt enough for Luke to see from ten feet away.

The hunk high-fived the bartender and slung his gym bag over his shoulder, then strutted straight toward Luke. As he passed, he looked Luke in the eye and smirked. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Luke said, surprised he’d been noticed. But that was probably a stripper thing. Make the customers feel special, and they’ll tip you more.

The guy kept walking and went through the unmarked black door on the left of the stage. “Just as I thought,” Luke muttered into his drink before he sipped it. He walked away from the bar and positioned himself closer to the door, waiting for just the right moment to slip through. When he noticed he could be seen in the series of mirrors at the back of the stage, he moved further into the shadows. Then he killed time by sipping his drink, fiddling on his phone, and trying to look as casual as possible.

Ten minutes went by, then twenty. The seating area was starting to fill up. Luke finished his drink and set it on a nearby table, then realized there were no waiters around, the bartender was out of sight, and no one was looking at him. A surge of adrenaline shot him through the unmarked door before he had time to weigh the pros and cons.

He found himself in a small brick-lined hallway, and after ten seconds passed without anyone barging in after him demanding to know what the fuck he was doing, he was pretty sure he hadn’t been noticed. Feeling very much like a secret agent, he skulked down the hallway, passing an empty dressing room with a pull-up bar mounted in the doorframe. That was where he stopped once he heard voices.

They were nearby - around the corner - but not coming closer. Hesitantly, Luke stuck his head out to see if the coast was clear. It was, barely: some men were standing backstage waiting to start the show, but a black curtain shielded everything but their feet from view. A nearby table was overflowing with bottles of hairspray and - Luke squinted his eyes to read the labels - body oil.

Luke frowned and looked away, adjusting his glasses as he inched a bit closer to the black curtain. This place smelled like a locker room. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it brought back memories that were. Gym class was never the highlight of his school years.

The nearer he drew to the curtain, the clearer the voices from beyond became.

“...just don’t seem to get it, Kai,” a voice as deep as the Grand Canyon rumbled.

“Not everyone does. But that’s ‘cause they’re not hot,” came the reply, followed by dumb laughter. Luke was pretty sure he recognized that voice: the huge Asian man who noticed him at the bar.

“Like, I grabbed lunch with a buddy of mine and he seemed really, like, put off by me? Is that the right word?” the first man explained.

“Colt, my dude, I bet he was just jealous,” Kai hypothesized.

Luke’s heart skipped a beat. Thoughts piled into his head so quickly that they almost jumbled together. They were talking about him. When had Colton’s voice dropped so low?

“I mean, no shit, but like…it sorta kinda bothered me ’cause I like this dude.”

“Like, ‘like’ or like, ‘like like’?” Kai asked. Luke rolled his eyes at the juvenile phrasing.

“I’unno,” Colton muttered. Luke wanted to tell Colton to enunciate the words properly, but he held his tongue. “I still want him to be my bro ’n shit, but I felt like he was judgin’ me. It hurt my feelings.”

Luke blinked in surprise. Was he really being that bad? It couldn’t be so wrong to want his friend to not throw his future away…

Kai chortled. “If he’s a good bro, he’ll like you for who you are, y’know?” He blew out a breath, then paused – presumably in thought, though Luke didn’t really get the impression there was much going on up in Kai’s brain. Colt was- er, Colton was asking a lot of this beefcake.

Luke was so focused on waiting for the next part of the conversation that the sneeze snuck up on him. It was so forceful that the young academic fell back and ended up tangled in the black curtain. The bovine noises of shock from the strippers filled the air as Luke thrashed in the smothering fabric, trying to free himself. Finally, a strong grip from somewhere tore the curtain right off him. Luke spun forward, tripping over his own feet, and his glasses flopped free. He only took one step as he tried to balance himself - one step that was punctuated by a crunch.

Well, that was a $200 prescription he now needed to replace. Dazed and embarrassed, Luke stared up at the man who’d freed him from the curtain.

“Luke?” Colton asked, his voice divided between confusion and elation. “What’re you doin’ here, bro?”

“I, uh…” Luke stammered, trying to collect his thoughts. He couldn’t just blurt out his thoughts about strippers with Kai standing right there. “I wanted to talk to you,” he finally said.

Colton’s chiseled face brightened with a dazzling smile. “That’s awesome, bro! I’m so glad you’re here.” He threw his arm around Luke’s shoulders, and Luke hunched from the sheer weight of it. All that power. Colton’s massive bicep mashed into Luke’s neck like a vice. “This is the guy I was talkin’ about!” Colton said, turning to Kai.

“The one you like?” Kai asked, looking back and forth between Colton and Luke.

“BRO!” Colton’s body flushed with embarrassment. It was at that moment that Luke realized Colton was half naked. He’d been so distracted by his surroundings and the curtain incident that he hadn’t noticed Colton’s attire, or lack thereof: just black leather pants so tight they had to be cutting off circulation, slung low enough to show off his waxed pubic area - and thin black strings that were cresting out of the top.

He was wearing a fucking thong.

The pants were matched by black leather cuffs hugging his wrists and making his arm veins bulge, and a thin leather strap running diagonally over his torso, its entire purpose being to sink between his pecs and show their depth.

“How do you take those off?” Luke asked, looking at the pants. He could see the cuts of Colton’s quads rippling through them.

“It takes work, man!” Colton guffawed. “I don’t get outta these onstage. For the stripping numbers, I have other stuff that’s tearaway, it’s fuckin’ dope.”

“Why are you talking like that?”

“Like whuh?”

“Like you’re-” Luke caught himself before he said ‘dumb.’ “-a surfer or something. And your voice is so deep.”

Colton shrugged and gave Luke’s chest a pat. “This is just how I talk. Chill out bro! You’re, like, tense, man. This is gonna be fun.”

“What is?”

“Tonight!”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, actually,” Luke said, pulling Colton away from Kai, who was now taking selfies. “All of this-”

“Isn’t it fuckin’ awesome, bro?” Colton said, his smile blinding in its intensity. “Look at my fuckin’ muscles.” He raised his arms upward and posed, shoving a volleyball-sized bicep toward Luke. “Gets me so horny. FUCK, I love being a man!” Colton’s body went flush again, this time from exertion as he flexed. His torso undulated as he ran his hands over his pecs and abs. “Do you love being a man, bro?”

“I mean, yeah, I guess so.”

“Nah, you’d know if you did.” Colton draped his arm across Luke’s narrow shoulders again and pulled him in tight. “C’mere, lemme show you something.”

Luke sighed and shuffled along, knowing resistance was futile. Colton was as big as a house. Looking at him was daunting enough, but being held by him made Luke feel like a little kid. Not only could he feel Colton’s bicep squeezing against his neck like a snake, but Colton’s pecs were so big they wedged against Luke’s side. The muscles weren’t just for show - Colton was strong down to his fingertips.

“I’m so happy you came, bro,” Colton rumbled as they walked up three stairs into a dimly lit area. “I really wanted a buddy here.”

“What about that guy back there?”

“Kai? Great bro but it’s not the same.”

“The same was wha-” Luke started to ask, but suddenly there was a blinding spotlight on him, and beyond it, hushed voices - lots of them. “Is this…am I on stage?!”

“Yeah, bro, I want you to know what it’s like-”

Luke tried to jerk away but Colton was too strong. “Let me go! I don’t want people to see me-”

“It’s chill, man, just relax!”

“No! I shouldn’t be up here!” Luke finally wriggled free by crouching and spinning away. “This is embarrassing,” he said angrily, turning to leave.

“Stop, bro!” Colton lunged and grabbed Luke’s arm. “Just for a second-”

Luke turned back and tried to wrench away. “Let go, you big-”

It happened so fast that Luke didn’t realize what ‘it’ was at first. He felt something soft on his mouth, and the noise around him fell away, replaced by a low ringing in his ears. A kiss? He was being kissed…he hadn’t kissed anyone in years, not since high school, when he and Kaitlin Longworth had tried at a party but felt too awkward to really go for it. But this was a nice kiss…the plump lips interlocked with his tasted like honey and lavender.

…wait, was Colton kissing him…what the FUCK–

Luke stumbled back, sputtering. “What the hell was that?!”

“I had to kiss you before you get too popular!” Colton beamed.

Luke shook his head. “Too popular? What do you…what is this-” He pushed his bangs out of his eyes, annoyed. Why did he have bangs anyway? His hair was curly, meaning it grew OUT, not down. “What’s going on…look, I’m not gay, I didn’t know you were but it’s cool, I just need to-”

Luke turned to leave but tripped over his feet. He caught himself before he fell, placing one hand on the ground and pushing himself back up. That was how he noticed his henley sleeves were too short on his arms. And his jeans…didn’t cover his ankles…

He spun and looked at Colton. “Wh-what is all this-”

“It’s fine, bro. C’mere.” Colton pulled him in and kissed him again before Luke had time to think. Luke went limp in the big man’s arms, allowing Colton to maul his mouth with tender precision. When Colton broke free for air, he kept their mouths tantalizingly close, smiling gently at Luke as he held him close.

“You’re…what are you…are we…” Luke stammered, unable to piece together his thoughts, let alone a sentence. Everyone was staring, and something strange was happening - he couldn’t think straight - he needed to leave, but he didn’t want to. And his clothes didn’t fit. He was tall. He wasn’t supposed to be tall.

“Fuck, your face is already hotter. Gets me so boned up.” Colton pressed his crotch against Luke’s leg to prove his point.

Luke moaned at the feeling of his friend’s erection. “What’s happening?”

Colton turned Luke toward the row of mirrors lining the back of the stage. It took Luke a moment to realize his reflection was him. He didn’t look right. He was stretched out, nearly as tall as Colton. His face was his, yet different somehow. Like a more handsome twin brother. He couldn’t pinpoint what was different, but he just looked better. And his hair - what the fuck - his curls looked flatironed out, sticking out in tufts around his head.

Luke blinked sleepily, his expression the same as if he’d consumed ten beers. “What the fuck…” He looked at Colton through bleary eyes. “It’s like…a trick with the mirror…gotta be…”

Colton held Luke’s face in his big hands. “Fuck, bro,” was all he said before they kissed again. Harder. Deeper. Colton’s tongue explored Luke’s mouth while his hands stroked his hair, which felt so long and lustrous now. When the kiss broke, Luke’s soft moaning continued, his eyes shut as he swayed back and forth. “That’s it, bro, rock your hips like that,” Colton coached, moving his hands down to Luke’s waist. “Fuck, that’s so sexy. You’re so sexy.”

“Me? No, I’m not…I’m not,” Luke insisted even as he gyrated against Colton. “We’ve been up here for like two minutes, this isn’t real…it can’t be…”

“Yeah, but all those sandwiches at Pepperjacks were gettin’ you ready for this!”

“Pepperjacks?” Luke blinked, suddenly realizing he and Colton were the same height.

“Remember Murph, the owner? He owns this place too! Something in the stuff there gets, like, action…automatic…no, what’s that word? When you turn something on?”

“Activated?” Luke was staring at Colton’s face. He was so fucking beautiful. Luke didn’t know men could be beautiful, but there was no other word for Colton.

Colton snapped his fingers. “Activated! That’s it. Thanks, bro! Something you eat there gets activated if you get onstage here. That’s how he gets such hot guys to dance here. Isn’t that fuckin’ awesome?”

Luke shook his head. His long blond hair shook with it.

Why was his hair blond…

He was about to say he didn’t think it was awesome, when Colton leaned in and kissed him. Luke felt his body stretch. His chin throbbed. His clothes felt so tight. Something was happening to him, and he couldn’t explain it, which was frustrating. He could normally explain everything. But this was…magic. He couldn’t explain magic. Especially not with a foggy brain and a raging boner.

“He’s TALL!” someone in the audience shouted as Luke wobbled free of the kiss, unaccustomed to his long limbs. He’d forgotten they were being watched. The stage lights backlit the audience and made the room feel like a big black box.

And he was tall. He was taller than Colton. He looked like a scarecrow wearing a little kid’s clothes. His stomach was so flat - not because he’d lost any weight, but just because all the extra height pulled it tight. “M-m-my body,” he stuttered, patting his bare stomach. 

“It’s getting so hot, bro,” Colton purred.

Luke knew Colton didn’t mean the temperature, but that wasn’t wrong either. He was sweating. The lights were hot, and anxiety was spiking his body temperature. It’d be better if he took his clothes off…

He couldn’t take off his fucking clothes! He was in public!

…but he wanted to take them off so badly. Fuck, it was so hot…

His body temperature spiked further when he felt Colton’s muscles press against his back, and his big buddy’s arms wrap around him. One hand slid up under Luke’s shirt, the other went down over his jeans and massaged his crotch.

Luke made a noise he’d never heard himself make before; a high-pitched sigh that descended into an airy moan. His head rolled back as he felt Colton’s lips on his neck, and then he grunted and bucked his hips as Colton pinched his nipple. “Fuck!”

“You like that? Yeah, you like that,” Colton said between nibbles on Luke’s neck. “You’re so hard, bro.”

“What’s…can’t…” Luke was trying to say, but his mouth was dry and he couldn’t breathe. Words wouldn’t form. He was so confused, so aroused, every nerve on edge. Energy was coursing through him as he humped Colton’s hand, groaning like a bitch in heat. And everyone was watching - he didn’t know why that was turning him on even more, but it was. He’d always been on the shy side, content to stay in the shadows, but now he was front and center and he loved it. He turned to say something - anything - to Colton, but Colton just took Luke’s mouth in his own, his teeth and tongue consuming all Luke’s doubts.

“Shh, look,” Colton said, moving his hand out from beneath Luke’s shirt. Luke dipped his head and saw how tight his henley’s buttons were over his chest. His whole shirt seemed to strain, the seams tugging.

He took a breath.

POP!

“UNNNH!” Luke’s moan got a few men in the audience making the same noise. He stared in awe at his chest and its new shape pushing out against his thin shirt.

“C’mon, bro, they gotta be huge, please,” Colton whispered into Luke’s ear. “You gotta get giant fuckin’ pecs like mine.”

“No, I-” Luke started to say, but another button burst off his shirt, and his words devolved into horny groans.

Colton’s voice was deep and excited. “Fuck yeah. Huge fuckin’ muscle tits.”

Luke shuddered with confused ecstasy. His chest widened and expanded, filling with air that pushed out his ribcage and reshaped his torso. Bigger…broader…

This couldn’t be fuckin’ real…

The last of his buttons exploded off.

“UNNNNGGHHHH…”

His shirt was straining, struggling, tearing under the arms and across the shoulders as more projection and breadth piled onto his chest. Luke could feel sweat trailing down the valley between his new pecs.

“I gotta…gotta see-” Luke gulped, forcing his and Colton’s weight around so he could look in one of the stage mirrors. 

What he saw made him moan even louder and sent pre-cum gushing into his boxers. The handsome twin brother look was gone. At best, he could pass for his own distant cousin. The same testosterone-laden magic that was warping his body was doing a number on his face, too; his brow ridge was now greatly pronounced, with new angles erupting out of his cheeks and jaw. And his hair - holy shit, his hair - blond as fuck and sticking straight up in the air like he’d stuck his finger in an electrical socket. It was swirling and shaking like it was alive. Maybe it was. Luke stared at it in awe.

“Something’s happening to me, dude,” Luke said, as he watched his hair pile higher and higher on his head, before noticing his long, exaggerated lashes framing his blue eyes. Were his eyes bigger…?

“It’s fuckin’ awesome, bro,” Colton said. “We’re gonna have so much fun. Shouldn’t life be fun?”

Luke nodded slowly. “Yeah…”

“Y’know what’s really fun?”

Luke shook his head. “Whuh?”

“Having giant fuckin’ muscles.”

Luke’s plump pecs swelled further outward, busting fully out of his shirt and drawing moans from the crowd. He looked down in shock, his vision filled by the mass of his fantastic chest muscles. They crested out so far that he couldn’t see his nipples. “I bet, dude,” he moaned. “Big fuckin’ muscles…”

“Ripped as shit…”

“Yeah, fuckin’ ripped.” The remaining pudge melted off Luke’s stomach and left an 8-pack cut like diamonds, the pronounced ridges running like a highway down into his straining jeans. He grunted as his fingers explored the new ridges of his abdomen, then he held out his hands and inspected them too: veiny brawn with long, thick fingers. Strong hands. A man’s hands. Luke clenched them and watched giant veins shoot up through his forearms. He felt his biceps press against the weakening fabric of his sleeves. “Please…” he whined.

“Please?” Colton asked.

Luke didn’t know what he was begging for. He was just begging. More. He wanted more. Of everything.

His sleeves were splitting open along his biceps, which were already big as melons and still growing bigger. Colton gripped one with a “fuck yeah” and tore Luke’s sleeve right off, running his fingers across Luke’s growing arm like he was playing a piano. Colton licked the peak of Luke’s bicep and Luke responded with a full-body shudder and an arch of his back. 

“This has gotta come off,” Colton said, tugging on Luke’s ruined shirt. Luke nodded and moaned. The shirt was stuck to him because of all the sweat - he pulled and pulled, finally ripping the front further open, his huge left pec flopping out and drawing gasps from the crowd. Colton’s assistance finally freed him, and Luke emerged from the shirt like it was a cocoon, his new bodybuilder’s torso on full display. 

As the air drifted over his bare skin, Luke took in a big breath and grew his pecs even bigger, their mountainous size spreading up to his shoulders, which suddenly hurtled outward with remarkable speed. He suddenly had shoulders as broad as an Olympic swimmer’s, but they were getting thicker - rounder - huge rippling delts and elegant traps that held his neck upright like a ballet dancer, emphasizing the beauty of his face. A face that was twisted into an expression of agonized arousal, slack-jawed and breathless. Luke’s teeth grinded as a stab of pain shot through his most tender region, and he pawed frantically behind himself, but couldn’t reach because of the new mass of his arms.

“H-help-” he sputtered to Colton. “My ass-”

“Oh, fuck yeah bro,” Colton grunted from behind him. “Look at that.”

“Wh-what’s happening-” Luke sputtered, pulling on his jeans, twisting to and fro as he tried to relieve the tension.

“Getting big as fuck, that’s what,” Colton said, swatting Luke’s butt. 

“Look, he’s dancing now!” someone in the crowd shouted from out of the darkness.

A chill went through Luke. In his haste to remove his pants, he’d started to gyrate sensually, rocking his hips back and forth to tease the crowd. Like he was a fucking stripper. He forced himself to stand still as he watched his pant legs swell outward, his thighs pressing together - it took him a moment to realize it wasn’t air inside his pants, it was his body growing massive, his thighs distending into bloated tree trunks. With a gulp, he looked at his side view in the stage mirrors.

Holy fuck…

Holy fuck…

“M-my ASS-”

It was fucking enormous. Like two watermelons stuffed down the back of his jeans. His pants were so tight that he could see the cut muscles of his hamstrings running up to connect to the jaw-dropping mass of his butt. No wonder his pants hurt so badly…but maybe if he just flexed a little bit…nothing the crowd could see, of course…

One quick tense of his glutes kicked this plan into action, and that was all it took for Luke to realize he’d made a mistake. His jeans exploded off him like a pinata, two huge globes of solid muscle bursting out into the world. The expansive muscles shook up and down, a perfectly formed man ass sticking straight out from the small of his back. It was so round and inflated that it had torn his underwear right off.

And then, Luke saw, no it hadn’t. Lost between the two biggest ass cheeks he’d ever seen was a tiny strip of neon yellow peeking out from the top of the mountains.

A thong.

He was wearing a fucking thong. Just like Colton. 

For his part, Colton was still helping with Luke’s pants, tearing them away like wrapping paper. Every rip revealed more of the legs underneath, densely muscled pistons packed full of brawn - big, powerful thighs and diamond-shaped calves - every nervous twitch sending ripples down through their mass. Shredded denim rained down around his feet, mixing with something green that Luke couldn’t quite make out - it wasn’t until his vision cleared and improved itself to the 20/20 of his childhood that he realized he had a mound of cash in front of him. Ones, fives, even tens and twenties. And more was being thrown. 

A man had made his way to the edge of the stage, the only face in the crowd that Luke could see clearly. Just a normal middle-aged man, someone who could have a son Luke’s age. He threw a wad of cash at Luke’s feet and said hungrily: “Lemme suck your cock, please, sir, please…”

Luke stumbled back in shock, his new weight nearly toppling him were it not for Colton’s support. 

“I got you, bro. Fuck, you’re so sexy…these muscles…fuuucckkk…” Colton ran his big hands across the acreage of Luke’s back. He cupped his palms around Luke’s lats and admired their thickness and width. Luke moaned at the touch. Suddenly, everything turned him on. He didn’t know what was wrong with him, or with this place. Why wasn’t he running…why was he in this Mister Universe body…none of this was him…

“Looking good, stud,” Kai said, suddenly appearing next to Luke. “Fuck, look at your pecs, man. Fucking huge.” He knelt in front of Luke and looked up at him. “You’ve got the hottest nipples I’ve ever seen.” He gave one a pinch. 

Luke’s toes curled. He had to hold back a scream of joy.

“Yeah, you like that. Fuck yeah.” Kai shoved his face in between Luke’s mountainous pecs, his nose sliding all the way into the cleavage as he motorboated the giant muscles. Then, after a few more kisses, he opened his mouth and took Luke’s left nipple into it. It was the first time Luke had ever had his tit sucked, and he knew instantly it would not be the last. Kai’s teeth gently grazed on the softest skin on Luke’s body, each nibble sending a shockwave of pleasure through his muscles. Luke played gratefully with Kai’s beautiful black hair, rocking his head to the side to lean against Colton’s, who was back to kissing his neck.

The two most beautiful men he’d ever seen were worshiping him like he was a fuckin’ god. That had to mean he was beautiful too. But he had to see.

He gently pulled on Kai’s hair and looked into the man’s eyes as his nipple popped free. “I gotta see myself.”

“Yes,” Kai moaned. 

Luke turned, his movements labored from the two bodybuilders draped over him. “Oh fuck,” he breathed in shock.

He was unrecognizable. A new man. Atop the body of a god was a face to which no sculptor could do justice. Chiseled was an understatement. The masculine elegance of his high cheekbones reshaped his entire face. His thick eyebrows radiated dangerous sex appeal, which was needed to offset the dreaminess of his light blue eyes. Once-thin lips had blown up into a distended pout, their corners upturned in a permanent smirk. His jaw was a masterpiece of manliness, huge and square, like the guys in the…drawings…

Luke’s long lashes created a breeze as they fluttered in thought. He looked like the Tom drawings out there in the club…some kind of hyper-masculinized fetish idol, a fuckin’ queer wet dream…everything outsized and overstated, like he was more a fantasy than a real human…

He stared dopily at himself, watching in awe as whiskers stretched down the sides of his jaw and reshaped themselves into lightning bolts that hugged his protruding cheekbones to emphasize their sharpness. He turned his head one way and the other, inspecting the new retro sideburns he’d just grown…they looked so fucking sexy, and they matched his hair perfectly. 

His HAIR - oh FUCK - he had big fucking hair!

His hair seemed to rise higher as he looked at it, completing its transformation into a towering blond pompadour, shellacked with enough product to make it look plastic. It was a statement. It would attract attention. Thick wooly sideburns and a bigass pomp, like a blond Elvis. Or Danny Zuko. Or Johnny fucking Bravo.

Luke fucking loved it. His face spread into a big grin, and his teeth whitened and straightened until they, too, looked too perfect to be real.

“Fuck, bro, your hair…fuck, it’s so hot,” Colton slurred from over Luke’s shoulder. He touched Luke’s big stylized sideburn first, and Luke jerked away protectively - or as far away as he could, since he couldn’t move much without interrupting Kai sucking on his tits.

“Don’t touch my hair, dude!” He hated when people touched his pomp. The only time he was fine with it getting messed up was during sex, and even then, it was straight to the bathroom afterward to get it perfect again.

Sex…

He wanted sex so bad…

He thrust his hips forward and rutted against Kai’s buff frame at the same time he felt Colton’s clothed crotch shoving between his ass cheeks. The moan he made was coquettish, almost girly; his pillowy lips pursed together like he was Marilyn Monroe. 

As Luke ran his hands all over his sweaty body, fingers reading each muscular crevice and divot like Braille, he realized how smooth he was. Smooth pits, smooth chest…smooth everywhere, like a fucking doll. His skin gleamed like freshly buffed glass. He gently pushed Kai away so he could see if his crotch was hairless too. He had to bend over to get a look, his huge back rounding to compensate for the giant pillows hanging off his chest.

“They gotta see it, bro,” Kai said, moving to the side so that Luke’s crotch could be viewed by the audience.

“Yeah…yeah, they gotta see it,” Luke said, sensually swaying back and forth as he played with the tiny straps of his thong. “I want everybody to see!”

The tiny yellow pouch that held his manhood swelled with his growing erection, his cock stretching outward like a torpedo. Luke felt the fabric tightening around his genitals, his balls slapping against the silky confines. It felt so fucking good, and so fucking dirty…slutty…he knew nobody expected this huge, hung bodybuilder to love wearing trashy little panties, and that turned him on all the more. The flimsy triangle was no match for his big balls and long, thick cock - his manhood was spilling out in all directions, soaking the shiny thong with precum.

Cash littered the stage, and judging by the moans he was hearing from the darkness, many of the audience members were beating their meat to him already. That made Luke feel powerful, that he could get men creaming their pants just by how he looked.

Finally, the strain was too much, and Luke pushed his thong down so his hard dick could stand proudly on its own. His bull balls flopped over the pouch, but he left the thong on. He liked how the strip of silk felt between his cheeks, pressed up against his hole.

Fuck he was so nasty…and his cock was so long that he could see its big bulbous head poking out past the projection of his glorious tits…he touched his shaft and let out a high-pitched “ooooOOOOOHHH” before Kai moved back in front of him.

“Lemme help,” Kai said, playing with Luke’s cock for a few moments before taking the head in between his lips and sucking on it like a big lollipop.

He’d never gotten head before. He’d never been hot enough to get his dick sucked, and the girls he knew didn’t put out like that. But guys were whores. Guys lived to fuck, just like Luke did now. He didn’t even care that he was getting sucked off in front of a whole audience. In fact, he found it hot as hell.

“Oh fuck…oh FUCK-” Luke was grunting as he realized his own voice had changed to match the deep, dim bro tone of Colton’s. But his moans were an octave up, closer to his previous pitch, and rising higher as he lost more breath. His fingers gripped Kai’s skull and guided it back and forth on his shaft, and he felt his cock elongating down the man’s throat… “I need more,” Luke cooed, as Colton gripped his jaw and roughly kissed the butterfly-shaped traps bulging out beneath his neck.

Colton’s voice was low and sultry. “Want me inside you?”

“Yes…fuck…YES-” Luke nearly blew his load into Kai’s mouth at the very idea.

“You’re the hottest guy I’ve ever seen, bro. Seeing you like this…fuck, bro, I gotta have you.”

“You can have me!” Luke grunted. “Take me right fuckin’ here, dude!”

“Fuck yeah,” Colton breathed into Luke’s ear. “This might hurt a little.”

“Good,” Luke sighed, so horny he could barely think. He bucked forward as he felt Colton’s cock press in between his ass cheeks. Then he felt something cold and wet - Colton’s hand covered in saliva - and he released a joyous moan as Colton’s fingers slid inside him.

Kai came up for air. “Fuck yeah, bro,” he said, looking up at Luke.

“Fuck yeah,” Luke repeated, eyes shut in hysterical ecstasy. His toes curled. He knew what was coming. He wanted it. He wanted it so bad - more than anything - and he didn’t know why, but he– 

“AAAUUGHGHNNNNNHGHHHHHHH…” The loud cry of pain and joy got the crowd going nuts. The temperature in the room seemed to spike twenty degrees as Colton thrust inside Luke and began to fuck him. Luke used Kai’s shoulders for stability and squeezed his eyes tighter, getting accustomed to having a man’s cock inside of him. He bent over more, kissing the top of Kai’s head as the Asian man went back to blowing him. Luke watched his own sweat drip down Kai’s back.

“Fuck, bro, fuck…fuuuckkk…” Colton was muttering behind him, gripping onto Luke’s tiny waist then moving up to his lats. Luke pushed back, his thick glutes swallowing up Colton’s dick. The whole room was ablaze with heat and lust, men masturbating between tosses of cash. The only spots past the stage that Luke could see were the big Tom prints on the walls. Those exaggerations of masculinity.

That was when it dawned on him…that was him. 

“Shit I’m fuckin’ HOT!” Luke grunted, his full lips curving into a wicked smile. 

“Fuck yeah you are…” Colton’s rod slammed against Luke’s prostate, and Luke’s dick twitched inside Kai’s mouth, leaking cum like a dripping tap. 

“I gotta…show ‘em…” Luke choked out. “I gotta…show ‘em…who I am now…”

Colton got the message and pulled out, beating frantically at his own rock hard dick. Kai also moved to the side, allowing Luke to strut to the front of the stage, flexing and preening as he stroked himself.

Then he began to dance. Rhythmic and sensual, each movement designed to show off his immense muscles and the power they held. He ran his hands over his smooth body and worshiped it, feeling it grow even bigger at his touch. Big fuckin’ horny-ass bodybuilder. The most virile man in existence, so overly manicured he looked like a plastic doll. A face that was all jutting angles and testosterone, pouting and posing like a model.

This was the New Luke.

This was the man he wanted to be. Perfect. A fucking fantasy.

His cock unleashed its load like a champagne bottle exploding. Cum sprayed out over the crowd like the fire sprinklers had just been set off. Men’s laps moistened with their own spunk. Luke smiled as he heard their moans, knowing he was the god in the room, the muscle king, the embodiment of all that was TOM.

Luke fell to his knees, still expelling pearly white cum as he leaned back onto the ground and rubbed cash all over himself, bouncing his huge ass against the stage. His ear-splitting smile never wavered. This was bliss. This was fucking heaven.

—-----

“Dude…is sliced bread sexy or somethin’?”

“Whuh?” Colt looked over at Luke, who’d asked the question.

“This guy I was dancing for last night said I was the hottest thing since sliced bread.” Luke’s pretty face pouted in thought. “But I don’t think bread’s very hot. I mean, like, unless it’s toast.”

“I’unno,” Colt shrugged. “These are hot though.” He reached across the center console of his car and pinched Luke’s nipple.

“Mmm fuck…” Luke cooed, even as he continued to work on his pompadour in the sun visor’s mirror. His retro knit polo had all four of its buttons undone, allowing his huge pecs to bust out through the opening. He wore his polos a size down so that the effect would be extra dramatic. “I love my nipples.”

“They musta been distracting in class.”

“For me? Or for everyone else?” Luke grinned, turning his head left to right to check out his hair and admire the extreme angularity of his jaw.

“Both, bro.”

“Yeah, like, duh, everything was distracting. I’m horny all the time and I make everyone else horny too. I’unno who I was kidding going to class, I don’t understand any of that shit.” He flexed his bicep and squeezed it like a football. “But I don’t hafta,” he said proudly.

“You got that degree though!”

“Fuck yeah dude!” Luke’s giant chest puffed out. “Just had to fuck the right people!”

“That’s so fuckin’ hot, bro,” Colt sighed, massaging his hard cock through his shorts.

For several minutes, the two oversexed studs sat in Colt’s car edging themselves, tweaking their nipples and moaning. They only stopped when their thongs started getting sticky with pre-cum. Didn’t want to lose any horniness before a night of dancing.

They made for quite a sight strutting across the parking lot. Big muscular asses bouncing in their tight shorts. Massive Olympian chests spilling out of the flimsiest of shirts. Small waists rolling with each step, their strides sensual and confident.

“What’s up K-Dog!!” Luke bellowed as he barged into the club. He was a big fan of the bartender, Kellan. He remembered meeting Kellan the first night he worked at Toolshed, but found it funny that Kellan didn’t remember meeting him. Kellan insisted another bartender must’ve been working, because he wouldn’t have forgotten the hunk with the shoebox jaw and big pompadour, but Luke knew it was him. He’d never forget a buff, sexy stud like Kellan.

“Hey fellas!” Kellan greeted Luke and Colt. “Good to see you. And you brought the party balloons!”

“The party whuh…” Luke said, then he looked down at his giant hairless tits and got the joke. “Oh! Haha!”

“They even have the little knots on the end,” Kellan teased, reaching across the bar to give Luke’s protruding nipple a twist through his polo. He used the gesture to pull Luke in and French kiss him, then did the same to Colt. It was how all the guys greeted each other at Toolshed. Wet, sloppy tongue kisses, Luke’s favorite kind. Kissing a hot guy like Kellan got him so hard. He remembered a time when he dated women - or when he tried to date women but they mostly weren’t interested in him, which was weird because he was so hot - but it felt like a different life. He was gay as fuck. All he wanted to do was meet other hot guys and have sex with them. Top, bottom, Luke didn’t care as long as they were gorgeous.

“Can we get some liquid courage, bro?” Colt asked, and Kellan obliged by pouring three shots of vodka. 

Luke took his shot glass and balanced it on the tabletop projection of his upper pecs. “Heh, heh, check it out dudes,” he chortled. Then he bent his chin and wrapped his lips around the rim of the glass, taking the shot without using his hands.

As he set the shot glass back on the bar, Kellan was getting a long, narrow box out from beneath it. “This came for you bro. Gift from Murph.”

“Ooh, a gift?” Luke tore the box open like a kid on Christmas. He gasped excitedly when he saw what was inside. “Oh FUCK yeah, new costume for tonight!”

“Put it on, bro!” Colt said.

Luke pulled his shirt, boots, and shorts off without a second thought, standing in the middle of the bar in just his neon pink thong. He grabbed the pants from inside the box - they were shiny and black like leather, but made from a lighter material. They had stripes down the side that warped from the sheer mass of his thighs, and a built-in codpiece emphasizing his manhood. 

He tucked the pants into the top of calf-length leather boots - they smelled like heaven - and then put on the shirt. It was blue, some kind of silky material that got him primed to cum. The short sleeves barely covered his delts, and it was a miracle they didn’t rip open. He buttoned the gold buttons over his abs but left the shirt open over his chest, showcasing his pecs. Then he put on the hat, a small leather cap that angled over one eye, balanced carefully on his blond pomp.

The look was complete. In the middle of the bar stood a perfect Tom of Finland cop, hyper-sexualized and over-groomed. A 1950’s gay pin-up. His uniform was covered in cocks: gold phallus-shaped pins on the points of his sharp collar; penis buttons up the front; patches on his sleeves that said “Tom’s Men” over an insignia of a dick with angel wings; the same insignia in silver metal on the front of his peaked leather officer’s cap.

Luke had never felt sexier. The imprint of his straining codpiece was the final perfect touch to his outfit.

Colt and Kellan moaned with lust at the sight of Luke. As payment, Luke made them both roughly kiss him.

“You’re gonna make so much money wearing that,” Colt said.

Luke knew he was right. He was already rolling in cash just from being hot. His rent was paid with a single night of work each month and the rest was just fuck-you money. He was in the process of moving to a luxury apartment building and buying a brand new sports car. He could buy all the hair and skin products he wanted - they cost a lot, but it was worth it for his fuckin’ epic hair and sexy tan. He was getting rich, like…really rich. He’d found a nerdy guy from his old MBA program to do his accounting for him, and all Luke had to do in exchange was shoot a load down the guy’s throat once a month or so. Seemed like a fair deal. 

Luke licked his full lips and ran his hand over the expanse of his muscled rump. He grinned. “Hey Colt, buddy, did you know I got an MBA?”

“Yeah, we all fuckin’ know-”

“Master of BUFF ASS!” Luke thundered, shoving his beefy glutes toward Colt with a loud, dumb laugh.

“Fuck yeah, bro!” Colt hooted, slapping Luke’s butt.

Luke arched his back and relished the attention. “Fuck yeah, dude.”

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[visceral-stories]

Breaker Beach

Breaker Beach had been Leonard’s favorite place ever since he was a kid. Now the paunchy seventy-three-year old man was quite the opposite of that young kid who had spent his summers here decades ago. With its gorgeous oceanic outlook and its proximity to an expansive scenic park situated outside the suburbs, it was the place where the retired man found himself spending most of his days. He could remember when the beach used to be outside of town, standing alone before urban sprawl changed the isolated beach into a tourist attraction. The crowds were ten times what they were when Leonard was a boy, but he wasn’t bitter about it. Times change and he was just glad that more people could share in the beauty. Putting down the newspaper he had been reading, the old man placed his hands against the pockets of his khaki shorts and looked up towards the sky to daydream.

A young man’s shrill voice scared the daylights out of him. “Excuse me sir, would you be interested in working at Breaker Beach?”

Leonard jolted upright. “Jeez,” he muttered, placing a hand on his chest. He locked eyes with a muscled man in his late-thirties who looked like an aged version of the stereotypical surfer, with chino shorts and a button-up shirt buttoned halfway up to reveal some cleavage. The man looked like he never left the beach. “You really oughta not scare me like that,” Leonard growled. His gruff voice was not the most pleasing to the ears.

Undeterred, the young man maintained a plastic smile. His white teeth shone like diamonds juxtaposed with his fake tan. “My name is Weston Adams and I work for Breaker Beach Modeling Agency. I photograph and report on the fittest individuals at Breaker Beach to get them media coverage. With a host of celebrity sightings, Breaker Beach is a happening place where talent can get recognized.”

“No thank you,” Leonard grunted, perplexed and perturbed. He was a little curious about why this man was talking to him though. “Do you really want me to be a model?” He chuckled at the thought and gestured to his sagging belly. “Sorry, but those days are far behind me.”

Weston disregarded his comment. “What are you talking about? I think you are a man in his absolute prime.” He lowered his voice and raised a hand to block the side of his mouth. “The pay is really good and we advertise in the majority of local magazines, including a strong social media following with over 500,000 followers.”

Still in disbelief, Leonard tried again. “You want me, an old man with cataracts who can hardly see ten feet in front of him, to be a model...for you?”

“Yes sir.” Man, this guy was stupid. Persistent too.

If Leonard was in his younger, more aggressive days, he would’ve slapped the shit out of the man, but alas, he did not have that same mobility, or even the same consistent anger for that manner. After all, why would this guy choose him when there were hundreds of younger, more qualified individuals on this beach? His attire of a light blue polo shirt and khaki shorts did not scream young and sexy. “Look, I don’t know what you’re trying to do here, but could ya just leave me alone? Please? I’m just trying to read the paper.”

A look of defeat came over Weston’s face. Luckily, he got the hint, but not before advertising a little bit more. “Okay sir, I understand. Here’s my card if you change your mind.” He placed it on the empty space on the bench next to Leonard. “If you ever want to model with us, give us a call. We’re always looking to hire new talent.” The young man smiled and headed down the sidewalk.

“What on earth?” Leonard grunted, looking at the card the young man had handed him. Curious, he picked it up and read the information to himself. Weston Adams, agent for Breaker Beach Summer Catalog. Leonard rolled his eyes. He wanted to rip up the piece of paper in front of the guy’s face, but decided against it. He didn’t want to litter on his favorite beach after all. Begrudgingly getting off of his bench to throw the piece of paper away, the old man hoisted himself up feeling a faint pain circulate through his joints. Unintentionally, he sighed through his teeth in temporary anguish. The cumbersome and lethargic grey-haired man gracelessly hobbled to a nearby garbage can.

Once at the garbage can, Leonard dug his hand into his pocket to grab the business card. The card wedged itself into his fingernail. “Owch!” he exclaimed when he suddenly felt a sharp pinprick. A frenzy of tingles flew through his arm when he retraced it, almost like he had smacked his funny bone. The tingling quickly spread to his head, suspending the large man in a daze. The pain was so intense he couldn’t even move. All he could do was shut his eyes tightly and wait for the paralyzing headrush to secede, which it eventually did after a few seconds.

Opening his eyes again, he let out a sigh of relief, thankful to be freed from his numbing stupor. He still had a bit of headache though. A faint ache filled the man’s rotund gut while he glanced around the beach in an effort to mentally recenter himself. This wasn’t the first time he had endured a destabilizing feeling like this one. He knew eventually it would pass through him, and if it didn’t, that would be a little concerning. Down the beach sidewalk, he noticed a group of three men heading towards him, all clad in brightly-colored swimsuits, showing off their muscular and tanned bodies. It seemed like they were plucked directly out of a mens’ swimsuit issue. Leonard instinctively averted their gaze.

“Leonard, dude!” one in a navy blue speedo said excitedly. “What’s up?”

“How…how do you know my name?” Leonard asked gruffly, now in a state of confusion.

One of the other guys punched him playfully on the shoulder. The force was so strong that Leonard wondered if it would leave a bruise. Another muscular and bearded stud in a red speedo spoke up. “Don’t act like you don’t know us dude. We’re coworkers.” He raised his eyebrows smugly when saying the last word.

Coworkers? Leonard had been retired for a few years now. “Sorry gents, but I have no idea who any of you are.” It was such a weird feeling to have these three muscular models close enough to him.

The three men burst into laughter. Their massive pecs shook when they laughed, causing Leonard to feel even more intimidated. They were much taller than him, but they were equal in bodily width, only theirs was muscle and Leonard’s consisted of sagging fat. “You probably don’t remember,” the third guy said, his bulge shaking slightly in his yellow-colored speedo, as he chuckled alongside his friends.

“Hey, that was fucking offensive!” Leonard erupted. His eyes widened, leaving him surprised with his own anger and profanity. He hardly ever swore and he had never sworn at strangers. “I may be getting old, but I am not an amnesiac. You young kids oughta-”

“Whoa-hoa-hoa,” the guy in the red speedo replied, slapping Leonard on the shoulder. “That’s a pretty big word for you Leosard.”

The force sent Leosard’s glasses flying. Instinctively, he grabbed for them only to miss. “Shit,” he cussed. “What the hell?” he yelled. “I need those.” But right after he said that sentence, the strangest thing happened. His eyesight, plagued by cataracts, healed itself. In a matter of seconds, Leosard was able to make out so much more detail than he could before. He could read the signs in the distance, he could see the waves crashing on the shore, and any black spots in his vision were eliminated, allowing him to fully absorb the vibrant color of the beach. “Whoa...” was all he could muster.

“Mason, chill,” the guy in the blue speedo said to his friends. Facing the older man, he spoke in earnest.  “Leosard, you know Mason and Chase are just messing with you, right?” There was an eerie level of intimacy between them.

“Umm…yeah, yeah,” Leosard begrudgingly conceded. He was still getting used to his improved vision. However, in his old age, he was not as confrontational as he might’ve been a few decades ago. Besides, these men seemed harmless. Rude, but harmless, he justified. It was just so weird they were tantalizing him like they knew each other or something.

“Yeah, we’re just messing with you, bro,” Mason said, placing a lot of emphasis on the last word. For some inexplicable reason, the word rippled through Leosard’s mind, imbuing him with a surreal sense of familiarity after this whole ordeal.

“To-otally,” Leosard replied, his voice poorly mimicking the trio’s jock-like vocal cadences. “I gotcha du-.” He stopped himself before he said the word dude.

“Alright,” Chase said. “Will we see ya tonight for lifting, Leosard?” he inquired.

“Um, yeah sure,” Leosard replied nonchalantly. He just wanted this conversation to be over.

“Alright, later dude,” the guy in the blue speedo responded jovially.

“The nerve of some young people,” Leosard muttered to himself as he walked back to the bench. For some reason, the guy in the blue speedo felt the most familiar, but he couldn’t place his name. They had been making quite a lot of eye contact. Sitting back down on the bench, Leosard felt a pulse whirl through his midsection. His eyes darted down to the source of the ripple only to find that that he still looked as fat as ever. Looking closer, he realized that the fat stomach he was used to seeing was much firmer. As he touched his stomach through his shirt, he realized that it consisted of hardened muscle and not fat. Still in disbelief, he touched his marginally thinner belly through his shirt. He shuddered and could sense the presence of abs gradually forming beneath his polo. “No fuckin’ way,” he whispered to himself as he lifted up his shirt and his muscular abdomen. A memory of Leosard’s ex-wife telling him to get thinner constantly through their marriage permeated his mind. If only she could see what he saw now. Starting to fondle his own chest on the bench, he was surprised to hear yet another loud male voice to extirpate him from his self-adoration.

“Hey Leosar, how are you?” came the boisterous voice, which sounded much lower than the jocks’ voices.

“Ugh,” Leosar grumbled to himself. Begrudgingly, he turned to face the speaker only to be surprised when he was greeted by one short man and one tall man who looked to be in about their late thirties, both adorned in red and blue speedos respectively. Another wave of intimidation washed over Leosar. Not only was the pair of men older than the jocks prior, they were even more muscular. Their legs were like tree trunks and they both had chipper smiles on their faces.

The taller one spoke again. Leosar now detected his suave Colombian accent. “I haven’t seen you at the gyms in a while, where have you been?”

“Oh, I’ve just been….at the beach,” Leosar awkwardly replied. He noticed the men had matching wedding bands on their individual meaty hands.

“It sure looks like you’ve been here a lot from the looks of it,” the shorter man said. His facial hair shifting with his grin.

Upon hearing the man’s comment, the tingling feeling returned to Leosar, only it felt like every skin cell of his was getting tickled. As a ticklish person, he couldn’t help but start giggling a bit at the overwhelming feeling, however his quiet titters quickly shifted into heartier laughs that came out much goofier than he expected. While he chuckled vapidly, his sagging and pallid skin became tan and muscular. His response came out a little slower than usual. “Yeah, I...I always come...to this beach. Ever since...I was….younger.” Leosar said after his laughter subsided. Upon hearing his own voice, he realized it sounded smoother than usual and not as gravelly. It was as if his decades of smoking had been eliminated in an instant.

Both men burst into laughter.. “Entering your late-twenties is nothing,” the short one said, “Believe me honey, you are still in your prime.”

The taller one kept laughing and flexed his muscles. “I mean, look at me. I’m in my forties and I still have a killer bod that I know you respect.” He raised his eyebrows seductively.

Leosar didn’t even take note of the man’s comment. He was distracted from admiring the younger men’s bodies. Unlike the younger trio of surfer jocks, the men’s massive chests were coated with much more hair. As Leosar temporarily stared at their juicy and hairy pecs that bounced in rhythm with their resounding laughter, the hair follicles on his chest and back receded back into his body, leaving the largely-chested old man completely shaved. Even the hair which forested his extremities was absorbed back into his skin. He could feel the fabric of his clothing against his body better and it felt strangely pleasant. “You guys...look...very nice today,” he said, absent-mindedly trying to make conversation. His typical scowl shifted into a smile.

“You’re looking pretty sexy yourself there, stud,” the shorter man replied with a lustful expression.

Leosar was taken aback. He hadn’t been trying to hit on these fine-looking younger men. He only meant to pay an earnest compliment, like a bro does, or...like a true gentleman does. Not knowing what else to say, he promptly replied, “Thank you,” although it came out sounding much dopier than he had expected. Feeling uncomfortable on the bench, he decided to hoist himself up which required much less effort without a bulbous gut holding him down.

The taller man spoke, his gaze radiated the same lust as his counterpart. “You know, if you ever wanna come on by for a few drinks and a good time, you’re always invited.”

Leosar told himself he didn’t like men, but he found himself adoring the Hispanic stud’s sweet and sensuous manner of speaking. He looked like someone straight out of a romance movie his ex-wife would’ve loved. With the thought of romance, Leosar felt a stirring within his khaki shorts. “Yes, that sounds lovely.” He paused for a moment. “I’ll have to hit you guys up sometime.” Leosar winced at how out of character that last part sounded.

Like the jocks, Leosar found himself glancing at their bulges so much so that he had to remind himself to make eye contact. The shorter man sidled up alongside Leosar. “Give us a call soon, hun. We’d love to have you as a third again, Jeosar.” As they walked away, he slapped the old man on the ass, making him blush as red as a strawberry.

“Sure…” Jeosar replied quietly, more as an admission to himself. These men seemed so familiar to him, but he couldn’t place their names. He was flattered by their offer, but he could not see himself following through. However, the longer he reminisced, the more he could recall him and the two men spread naked across a bed. Jason was the name of the shorter and more flamboyant one and his husband’s name was Omar. It had felt so good to screw Omar’s tight and gigantic ass while Jason watched. The feeling was sensational.

No, not a real thought, Jeosar reminded himself. Grunting in disgust, he noticed that the boner he now donned within his tan khakis was very noticeable. Unbeknownst to him, his grey patchy beard receded into his cheeks, leaving him completely baby-faced. Additionally, the array of wrinkles around the man’s eyes, nose, lips, and neck were disappearing. His jawline became taut and sharp, creating a masculine and picturesque face. In an instant, his seventy-three-year old visage morphed into that of a man in his thirties.

“Feels…so….nice,” he mumbled to himself.

To accompany a changed face, Jeosar’s hairline pulled itself forward across his forehead before dyeing itself into a bleach blonde color. He felt so much younger yet he couldn’t recall what age he was. He was immediately given the gift of virility in the form of a rush of semen into the man’s boner as well as a radical increase of testosterone. Jeosar’s face became more square and he developed a voracious sex drive. He felt like he was on fire. And the only scenario that fueled his glory was the thought of sweaty and slopppy sex with Omar and Jason. He closed his eyes and touched himself through his khaki shorts, apathetic to any strangers around him, which luckily there weren’t many.

“God, my cock...my….dick feels...like...it’s on f...fire,” Jeosar whispered to himself, his large body now coated with a layer of sweat that became visible through his polo shirt. Promptly, he ripped off the shirt only to reveal his glistening pecs and abs. Jeosar grinned smugly and his shoulders expanded. His tanned body was breathtaking to look at, like it demanded attention, which was something that Jeosar craved. While he had been talking to Omar and Jason, his pecs had become enormous slabs of muscle, complimented by his tender and succulent nipples.

“Jeosar, what’s up?” came a familiar-sounding voice.

Looking up from his erection, he made eye contact with one of the jocks from before. He was the one in a blue speedo that accentuated that husky bulge. Jeosar couldn’t even be bothered to stare; his own shorts were tightly wound around his dick, causing an immense level of discomfort. “Oh, hey,” was all he could muster.

“You wanna head to the beach for the photoshoot?” the guy repeated.

“A photoshoot...” Jeosar repeated, his dopey-sounding vocal cadence now irradicable. Subconsciously, the growing stud began to flex his biceps, becoming hypnotized by their increasing mass as they started ripping his polo shirt. The changes flowed down into his fingers which promptly became finely manicured and thickened to the size of sausages. “Yeah...yeah sure,” he replied with a vacant expression. A huge tear formed across his polo shirt, revealing a part of Jeosar’s juicy pecs. Frayed fibers showered down at his feet as he just stood there in a daze.

“Alright, come on dude, let’s go today,” pleaded the other man.

“Ok, I’m up,” Jeosar said, jumping up from the bench in one swift motion.​​ The sudden movement must’ve given him another headrush because he could’ve sworn he was a little bit taller than the other man, and maybe a little wider even. Jeosar’s jawbone clenched as he felt a swirling sensation emanating from his lower body. Glancing down, he noticed that his shorts more closely resembled a pair of boxer shorts due to how skin-tight that were around his loins. He decided to pull on the waistband to try and loosen them but to no avail. The other guy had already started walking down the sidewalk so Jeosar decided to follow suit. His pace was much faster than it used to be as he quickly caught up to the man.

“What’s with the neon, Josar?” the guy asked.

“I’m not even wearing neon, Colton,” Josar retorted before wincing. How had he suddenly known the other man’s name?

“Uh-huh, sure, Josar,” Colton said while staring at his midsection than back to his eyes. “You’re lucky you’ve got your looks.”

Josar looked down and was shocked to see that while he had been walking, his khaki shorts had been reduced to tatters. A new neon green speedo cradled his growing loins just beneath the disintegrating fabric. Instinctively stopping to give his ass a little shake, Josa watched his khakis fall to the ground, leaving his lower body completely clad in the swimwear. He stared in wonder as his bulge filled out the pouch and he reveled in the sensation of his butt expanding behind him. Subconsciously, he could feel others’ eyes on him. After all, he was a tall, buff, and skimpily-clothed man; how could he not draw stares? Although, there was a piece of him was telling he was someone different, someone more reclusive and someone older. But what kind of old person had a ripped physique that glistened in the sunlight like his did?

Reaching the beach, Josar was greeted by the sight of the other two jocks. He wasn’t gay, but he had to admit they looked even better standing on the shore, their near-naked bodies casting broad shadows into the waves. Adjusting his hard dick, Josar raised an eyebrow upon touching his speedo. His dick wasn’t even hard. Laughing quietly to himself, he remembered that it was seven inches long. If there was one thing Josar never forgot, it was his dick size. He was so grateful to be surrounded by beautiful men. He felt even more grateful to realize he was officially the tallest and broadest one. Measuring in at 6’4 and weighing in at s hefty two hundred and eighty pounds, he was quite the hulking model.

A familiar sounding voice cut through the air, causing the men to turn their heads in unison. “Hello, hello men. It is so good to see all of you today,” he said. “We will begin shooting shortly.” He walked up to Josar and squeezed his left pec, “I’m very glad to see you, Josa.”

Josa was aghast when he realized that the man was the agent who had tried to recruit him for Breaker Beach Modeling. His scowl returned, now looking out of place on his breathtaking body. He stomped his new pair of flip-flops in the sand as he headed over to the agent who was in the process of setting up the equipment with the camera crew.

“Hey bro,” Josa said before remembering the man’s name. “Hey Weston Adams! What did you do to me?”

“What?” the modeling agent asked with a puzzled look on his face. Josa was bewildered that the man didn’t recognize him. Without his plastic smile, the agent certainly looked rather intimidating with his broad body. He couldn’t let himself be deterred though. After all, the man was about as tall as he was, but Josa was broader. “You did this to me, I...I...want…want...I want…. to tell…you...” He trailed off. He caught a glimpse of his muscular arm in his peripheral vision and instinctively began flexing. Upon doing so, the synapses in his brain began to decelerate. His stern expression softened into a more imperceptive one and his frown returned back to a blissful and conceited smile. Not only was Josa the biggest man at the photoshoot, he was the dullest, and his ignorant bliss was unparalleled. “Huh-huh-huh,” he chuckled vacuously to himself. Part of his brain was telling him he wasn’t this tanned, beach-bodied himbo jock, but he could not ignore the evidence that staring at his beautiful perfect body provided. With this realization, every muscle in his body widened just a tiny bit more, leaving the twenty-five-year old man with a breathtaking body that caught the glances of all who walked past, especially in his tight neon speedo. “I want you to get...ridiculousss shots of my body...okay?” he asked while continuously flexing in various positions.

“Riiiight. Sure thing,” the agent replied apathetically, upon seeing Josa’s rage dissolve into a dim-witted pride. Wordlessly, he turned back around and continued to help his assistants assemble their equipment, leaving Josa adrift in his own sea of confusion. He was content though, as he saturated his brain with the idea of how much of a hulking and masculine hunk he was. He was feeling a tad drowsy though, maybe going in the water would help wake him up. Taking his shoes off, he waded into the ocean and savored the feeling of the warm water pooled around his calves. Wading deeper, he went up to his thighs, leaving his loins hovering just above the surface.

The sound of other people entering the water broke his rumination. Turning to face the noise, Josa’s bulge swayed with his momentum. Greeting his eyes was an immaculate sight of the other three models slowly entering the water, the bright fabric of their speedos reflecting in the water. Josa’s cock started to tent in his speedo when he saw the muscular men, their shiny pecs and thin clothing always aroused him. He began to panic. Having a boner during the shoot would be so embarrassing. However, any fear he had about immediately evaporated until the thought never even crossed his mind. Josa was a horny bastard and didn’t have the foresight to care about his flagrant obscenity. However, judging from the looks on the other models’ faces, they either didn’t care, didn’t notice, or were used to immodesty.

Colton came closest to Josa and wrapped his arm around his shoulder. The touch of his arm and the sensation of his muscular body next to Josa’s caused Josa’s entire body to widen by two whole inches. The remaining vestiges of his former fat were pulled taut and converted into thick muscle. His bright neon speedo pulled even tighter around his loins, causing him to gasp uncontrollably. Colton didn’t even notice. “You’re lookin’ real fine today, hot stuff,” he said in a hushed tone, causing Josa to get goosebumps. Either the sun was beating heavier on his body or he was sweltering at the sensation of Colton’s touch.

“Th..thanks….” Josa replied nervously, his voice wavering a bit. A deluge of memories flooded his subconscious. Mostly recollections of him and Colton in deep sexual pursuits, sometimes together, sometimes with other masculine partners. Both certainly weren’t afraid to experiment with other men, sometimes alone, sometimes together. The hedonistic idea would’ve repulsed Josa, or at least the older version of himself that seemed so distant. The immense and commanding man had an immense sex drive to match and he sure loved to experiment. Josa tensed his muscles with enjoyment at the thought. Two different timelines were intersecting in his mind: one where he was a boring divorced old man and another that contained a multitude of pleasures he had never experienced before. It was all so much to bear and he groaned in discomfort as he felt his intelligence slipping even more.

“Hey Josh!” Weston Adams barked. “I need a shot of you in front of this bed of rocks over here.”

Upon hearing that name, Josh’s fearful expression disappeared completely as a carefree and goofy smile returned to his face. Any prior knowledge of accounting or marriage or old age left his brain and in its place came knowledge of posing and an obsession with his own gigantic and muscular figure. “Alright, coming dude,” he said jovially, eager to show off his body. He couldn’t remember what this shoot was for, probably a mens’ calender or something. He had done so many that he lost track at this point.

The bulge in his speedo caught his eyes as he walked. For some reason, he expected to see a boner, but he was completely flaccid, although his member was still on full display beneath his skimpy suit. Josh loved it though: the impressed side-glances and lustful glimpses from women and from men. As he realized some of his “bros” were watching him walk out of the water, his butt cheeks grew to an even wider proportion, stretching the speedo to its limit. Nestled by his thighs, his bulge and ass were quite the spectacle. He was truly a larger-than-life Narcissus who never got tired of being the focal point of any gathering.

“This look good?” he asked the photographer as he flexed his arms. With his square face and sharp jawline, he certainly looked as intimidating as the other models when he didn’t smile. He ran a meaty hand through his blonde hair as his biceps and tríceps expanded one more time, becoming a final half-inch larger.

The photographer gave a thumbs up. “Now let’s do a few with a smile.”

Josh’s body glistened immaculately in the sunlight. As the photographer snapped a picture, the hunk’s personality fell into place, solidified by a dopey burst of laughter which dissolved into a cheerful grin revealing a marvelous set of white teeth.

[king-craftsman]

What Do You Desire?

"Look man, I told you I don't really swing that way. So can you ju-" "What is it that you desire?" It was such a simple question but it was the last thing John expected to be asked while he was out at the club with some friends. They all eventually split off though and that was when the handsome man dressed in a suit had come up to him. The last thing that John wanted was to be hit on by a guy, even if he did find it flattering. But the moment he told the guy for the third time that he wasn't interested, the man stared into his eyes and spoke in that silky smooth voice.

"What is it that you desire?"

"I...Desire...?" John blinked as he stared at the man, it was suddenly getting harder to think the longer he stared into that deep brown. It was so hard to think about anything, do anything but focus on that captivating gaze and think about desire. He was a nerdy guy who didn't look like he much belonged at the club, only going out because one of his roommates had pushed him into it, trying to get him laid. But there was no luck, he was too nervous and too shy. He hadn't even realised that the man had somehow ebbed him into a dark alleyway close to the club, where nobody else was around.

"I think you desire being told what to do..."

No way, John never liked it when people told him what to do. Even at work, he always hated faking a smile, as if he was looking forward to being ordered around by his boss. He blinked, thoughts feeling muddied and unclear for the first time that night.

He suddenly found himself giving a dumb smile, one that was full of compliance, the grin that told somebody that he had nothing going on. Whether it was a drinking contest or a kiss, he looked dumb enough to do it without thinking, because he didn't think.

Wait but that wasn't right. John...didn't he have a PhD? He looked up, last dregs of intellect forming into realisation as his eyes widened while he stared at the handsome man.

"In fact I think you desire to kiss me with those full lips..."

Full lips? John was sure he was the type to have thin lips, there was barely any desirable features on his face. But the more he thought about it, the more he could feel how his lips grew wider, somewhat heavier as he reached forward, like his body was magnetically attracted to the man. He kissed him like he hungered for it, he kissed him like he wanted to test out these new lips and moaned at how good it felt to kiss a man.

"Enjoying yourself? I'm sure, since you desire to be with men after all, don't you?"

He did. He loved to be with men. God, he was such a slut for men even. He wanted to have them in every orifice, their dicks down his throat and up his ass. As the man slapped his ass, he could feel, much like his lips, the ass cheeks swelling as he moaned and let the man palm him, fingers pushing against his...pants?

No...He wouldn't be wearing pants out to the club. More like shorts, denim shorts that hung tight onto his inflated juicy cheeks and could show off his legs.

"Mmm and of course with such a handsome body, every man wants to be with you. You desire men to worship your body."

He loved it when men worshipped his body. John no longer was scared of sex, of the intimacy of having another person in their bed. In fact beds were somewhat a rarity, alleyways like this and nightclubs was where he loved to get fucked after all. But it made sense, since his club was a place he worked.

"In fact Javi you desire a job where men admire your body." He did! It's why he had asked the man if he could work at his club after all, simply titled LUX, an erotic venue where he could strip and dance for men, gyrate his hips that started to fill out slightly. As his skin grew less pale, like someone who regularly went outside instead of the nerd that stayed at home, his hips gyrated beneath the man's touch.

His skinny body grew into one that was far more muscular and lean, memories of studying at the library replaced with fucking his personal trainer and working out together at the gym. In fact, John Javier realised that he loved the gym a lot. He never had any desire to not exercise, because it just meant that he could look even better for all his clients.

The slight tan spread over his body as he moaned and groaned underneath the man's boss's touch.

"And you desire to service me, to kiss me, to work for me..."

Javier's cock had grown, not only bigger from how horny he was getting, but from the transformation itself. All the changes were making his mind be wiped away, his tired eyes suddenly looked slightly more youthful, wrinkles from stressing and bad skincare smoothed over. Suddenly he wasn't some late twenties grad student but instead Javier was a young twenty-something dancer as his thoughts slowly began to transform into espanol.

It made it harder for John to think, harder to enfocar, harder para resistirlo, harder hacer cualquier cosa, so hard ya que no puede parar, HARD hasta que no puede resistir y debe ceder as his cock throbbed.

"I think you desire to let go, to cum..."

And with one final kiss, one final command, Javier moaned into it and let himself give in entirely. He moaned, the last dregs of John his old self filling his cock as he came everywhere, all over his boss and himself. It was just so hard not to, especially when he was only wearing denim shorts and sandals, moaning and begging for more as he held onto his boss, completely changed.

"Oh fuck boss, that was tan bueno," Javier giggled as he looked down at himself and the mess he had made, needing to head backstage and clean himself up. It wouldn't be the first time he and his boss got together in the alley, but it wasn't his fault, his boss was just a total hottie and he was an airheaded himbo who would do whatever his boss asked.

From nervous nerd to a hot himbo, Javier was no longer the same man that walked into LUX. But then again he knew that no men who ever came in were the same when they came out and he couldn't be any happier.

After all, this is what he desired.

For a whole library of hot stories like this, be sure to check out The Craftsman on Patreon.

[fredwmain]

Moved in right before the start of Pride. We are so fucking back

[bratboy197]

At long last - one of the GOATS returns!

[salmonskinrolltf]

A shy, nerdy college student gets invited to a legendary fraternity party. The longer he stays inside the packed house, the more he changes. His body rapidly grows larger and more muscular, transforming into a massive superheavyweight bodybuilder with broad shoulders, huge arms, and an imposing presence. His clothes shift into stereotypical jock fashion—tank tops, athletic shorts, a backwards cap, and flashy accessories. His hair, attitude, and mannerisms change as well, becoming increasingly cocky, outgoing, and frat-oriented. As the night goes on, his academic interests and complex thoughts fade away, replaced by a simpler, more carefree mindset. By sunrise, he's become the fraternity's biggest and most popular jock, and nobody remembers he was ever anyone else.

[This Quick and Dirty story was written in one uninterrupted stream-of-consciousness flow with a hard time limit of 20 minutes. It is not perfect. No edits have been made, except to correct typos.]

Melvin tugged at his collar. Damn, it was muggy in the frat house. He suddenly understood why the Delta Chi boys wore tank tops all the time. He wondered how much longer he had to stay in order to fulfill his promise to his roommate that he’d “have fun.”

As if. “Fun” wasn’t a kegger with a bunch of bros he barely knew. “Fun” was a Star Trek marathon. “Fun” was making a spreadsheet of the different morphs that each Animorphs character had, and assessing which character had the most morphs of certain genuses.

Speak of the devil, his roommate, Cole, appeared from the crowd of sweaty bodies like Moses parting the Red Solo Cup sea. He had two beers in his hand and offered one to Melvin, who took it gingerly after Cole popped the cap open with his bicep.

Melvin planned to just politely hold it until Cole went away. He didn’t drink. Cole nudged him and whispered, at the top of his lungs. “Don’t worry, it’s non-alcoholic! Just drink it, bro! Loosen up!”

With that, he patted Melvin on the shoulder and vanished as quickly as he had appeared. Melvin took a sip. Alcoholic or not, he usually wasn’t into hoppy flavors, but this one went down smoothly. He shrugged and took another sip.

He instantly felt dizzy, but not from the drink. The floor had suddenly zoomed away from him, like he’d been picked up by a crane or something. But no, his feet were still touching the ground. He was just… taller. He did some quick calculations based on triangulating the height of the nearest doorway with the empty beer bottle that was standing upright on the carpet and assessed that he must be well over six feet.

Was he dreaming? That was the only way to explain the sudden change in altitude. And the only way to explain what happened next, which was that he inflated like somebody had plugged his brother’s old bicycle pump into his ass. His shoulders spread apart like magnets on opposing poles. His chest rose to fill the gap, giving him mountainous pecs that burst open the top few buttons of his shirt. He could barely see over them, but as he craned his neck, he noticed the fabric of his button-down, which was straining at the top, ripple as his slight gut receded, no longer pressing against his shirt as it was converted into a set of abs. His legs ballooned. His quadriceps first. And then one gastrocnemius after the other.

His arms kept inflating even after the rest of the movement had settled, making him full-on Johnny Bravo top-heavy. He dizzily tipped left and right. He hoped the dream would end soon. He worried that maybe the beer had contained alcohol and he had passed out. He fretted that this dream dizziness would ultimately result in him choking on his own vomit.

He tugged at his shirt collar again, but it slipped away from his grasp like a bar of soap in the shower. He grabbed at it, but it wasn’t there anymore. From what he could see around his pecs, the button-down had morphed into a bright pink stringer tank, over a pair of neon yellow shorts. And he was… barefoot? Disgusting! A musky, funky smell tickled his nostrils. Even though his increased height should make the possibility unlikely, considering how well-groomed he was, he worried that the stench was coming from his feet.

A sudden weight fell upon his head. A cap. Of course. But why was it all wonky? It was facing forward. That didn’t feel right. He twisted it around backward, and all his nerves were instantly quelled.

Whatever was going on, he finally looked like all the other guys at a party he was attending. This was his first time, and he was gonna enjoy it.

He decided to join the beer pong game, but first he adjusted the brown hair that stuck out of his cap, pushing it upward into a gravity-defying quiff and enjoying how it shimmered as it faded to a bright blond.

He crowded around the beer pong table, bragging that “I’m a one man team! Brain and Brawn all in one!”

He scored shot after shot on the other team, alternately flexing his newfound muscles and bragging about his academic accomplishments. He was about to pull out his phone and show the video of him answering the final question at the academic decathlon, but he got distracted by a video of him doing deadlifts in the gym. He chubbed up in his pants. God, he looked so hot.

While he was distracted, the other team had dumped all their ping pong balls into his cups. He drank cup after cup, not noticing that as the beer filled up his stomach, it also drained his brain. By the end of his final chug, he couldn’t even remember how to pronounce “decathlon,” let alone remember what his correct answer was. But as he shrugged off his tank to wipe beer foam from his lips, the stares from guys and girls alike were more than worth the things he had forgotten. Whatever they were.

[alphajocklover]

Have you ever done a story where a small nerd gets cursed so that he slowly turns into a jock with every geeky thing he does?

“Men are all the same.” 

That was what your last ex-girlfriend, Lilly, had said to you just as she stormed out of your life. Even with how bad things had been between you and Lilly had been lately, the pure venom that laced her words stung. You and Lilly had been together for almost a year now, and had a good couple, or at least you had been at the beginning. You were a very nerdy, yet quite handsome young man with a reputation for being particularly sympathetic and respectful, while she was a strong minded, career driven feminist with a passionate love for all things sci-fi. By all means you should have been a perfect pairing, and for a while it felt like you were, but over the last 3 months Lilly seemed to have strangely… changed. It started when she joined this online group, one known as the Coven. They were a local female empowerment group, at least that's what Lilly called them, who called themselves the Coven as a reference to the persecution of witches. At first you didn’t see anything wrong with Lilly joining the group, as you had always been a feminist yourself and were happy that your girlfriend had found a group of women that supported her. But over time Lilly seemed to grow progressively closer to them, and further away from you. It wasn’t just that she was changing, you weren’t as insecure a guy as to be angry your girlfriend had a life outside of you, it was that she just seemed to suddenly shut you out. A month in and she was barely speaking to you anymore, and the few times you could get her to talk to you all she wanted to talk about was the Coven. Two months later she was accusing you of cheating, demanding to go through your things, and constantly belittling you. Three months later, here you were, your former loving girlfriend walking out of your life after convincing herself you had cheated on her. You just didn’t understand what had happened. One day you were in love, and the next she was walking out of your life, cursing your name. You were so depressed, you almost didn’t want to go to your D&D session— MEET UP WITH YOUR BROS AT THE BAR — but you figured maybe talking to your friends would cheer you up.

You got to the bar early, before your friends had showed up, and immediately ordered a martini 

— ICE COLD BEER —

You sipped your drink as you looked around at the bar. You weren’t a big fan of bars in general. 

— YOU FELT YOURSELF RELAX AS YOU TOOK IN THE SIGHT OF YOUR FAVORITE SPORTS BAS —

And grinned at the sounds of a group of rowdy, half drunk jocks watching the game from another nearby booth. Sports had never been your thing. 

— WATCHING THEM REMINDED YOU OF YOU AND YOUR BROS BACK IN COLLEGE. MUSCULAR. DOUCHEY. YOUNG, DUMB, AND FULL OF CUM. —

You grinned nostalgically as you took another, deep swig, reminiscing about the good old days. Sure it had only been a couple years ago really, but fuck college had been so much fun. You noticed a cute looking guy

—  BIMBO WITH A HUGE PAIR OF TITS AND A DITZY LOOK IN HER EYES —

And you blushed

— SMIRKED AND FLEXED YOUR MASSIVE BICEPS BEFORE SWAGGERING COCKILY, BEFORE SWAGGERING OVER TO HER —

“Hey.” You said cockily, your average

— DEEP, DUMB, VOICE SENDING SHIVERS DOWN THE BLOND BIMBOS SPINE —

“Like, hi.” She said flirtatiously, one of her hands on your massive arms as she looked over you with clear lust.

In the back of your head something felt wrong

— RIGHT. EVERYTHING FELT SO RIGHT —

You knew that you weren’t this type of guy

— WERE A BIG DOUCHEY MAN, JUST LIKE ALL MEN ARE DEEP DOWN. A DOUCHEY PUSSYHOUND —

But… who cared about that when you had this premium piece of pussy running her hands across your massive chest. You reached down and groped her ass, eliciting a gasp of excitement from her as you did. You were still broken up about your last relationship

— A LITTLE TIRED FROM YOUR LAST HOOKUP —

But hey, a real man like you always had more in the tank. You continued to flirt with the girl, effortlessly charming and dominating her. You had plenty of practice getting into dumb bitches pants, and when it came down to it, women were all the same. They just needed someone to help them realize it.

[rawtextsdev]

I shouldn’t be out here.

My brother and his buddy, Jax, took off to grab beers, leaving Jax’s pride and joy sitting in our driveway. It’s a beast of a machine, matte black, aggressive angles, totally terrifying. But it’s the helmet sitting on the seat that draws me in.

It’s one of those high-end ones I see all over my For You page. You know the ones. Videos of faceless, jacked guys with veins popping out of their arms, revving their engines, looking like dangerous, sexy robots. I’ve probably watched a thousand of those clips, just… curious. Wondering what it feels like to be that anonymous. To be that powerful.

I reach out, my skinny, pale hand trembling a little. The helmet is heavy. It smells like leather, gasoline, and him. It smells like Jax. That thick, musky scent of sweat and expensive cologne hits me, and for some reason, my dick twitches in my jeans.

"Just a second," I whisper to the empty garage. "Just to see."

I pull it over my head.

It’s a tight squeeze. My ears burn as they scrape past the padding. But once it settles? Silence. The world outside is muffled. It’s just me and the smell of Jax wrapping around my face. It feels claustrophobic and incredibly, undeniably hot.

CLICK.

The strap locks under my chin. I didn’t touch it.

Before I can panic, the visor slams down. A blue HUD flickers to life right in front of my eyes, glowing neon against the darkness.

SYSTEM INITIALIZED. USER: UNAUTHORIZED. CALIBRATING PHYSIQUE…

"What the fu..."

My voice is cut off by a sudden, searing heat in my chest. It’s not pain, exactly. It’s pressure. Like someone hooked an air compressor to my bloodstream.

Zzzzzzt.

A shock jolts down my spine, and my arms jerk outward. I watch through the tinted glass, helpless, as my forearms begin to bubble. The skin pulls tight, tanning instantly from pale ivory to a deep, sun-baked bronze. Thick, blue ropes of veins snake their way up from my wrist, pulsing in time with the thudding bass now blasting in my ears.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

"Oh god," I groan, but the voice that comes out is deeper. Rougher. "F-fuck..."

My t-shirt shreds. It literally explodes off my body as my pecs slab onto my chest, blowing up like airbags. My shoulders widen with a sickening crunch, forcing my arms out to the sides. I feel like a biological machine, being upgraded in real-time.

My vision blurs. The text on the HUD is scrolling faster now.

TESTOSTERONE LEVELS: CRITICAL. SEXUALITY: RECONFIGURING. INTELLIGENCE: PURGING...

My head is swimming. I try to remember my major. I try to remember why I was scared. But it’s getting harder to think. The vibration in the helmet is scrambling my brains, turning my gray matter into mush.

Why was I worried? Muscles feel good. Tight feels good.

My jeans are the next casualty. My thighs balloon outward, thick as tree trunks, ripping the denim at the seams. My cock is agonising. It swells up thick and heavy. It pushes against the zipper of my jeans until the metal teeth pop open. I can feel the head of my dick rubbing raw against the coarse denim. It is leaking pre cum like a faucet. Sticky hot fluid soaks my underwear. I am throbbing so hard it makes my vision blur.

I’m not me anymore. I’m just a body. A host for the helmet.

CALIBRATION COMPLETE. MODE: STUD. OBJECTIVE: SERVICE.

The panic is gone. It’s replaced by a dull, throbbing need. My mind is empty, smooth, and quiet. There are no thoughts, only directives.

1. Be big. 2. Be dumb. 3. Fuck Jax.

I swing a massive leg over the bike. The suspension groans under my new weight, 240 pounds of dense, fuck-meat. I catch my reflection in the side mirror.

The guy looking back isn’t me. He’s a monster. Massive traps, striated shoulders, veins pulsing with lust. I’m faceless. Anonymous. Just a piece of ass in a tank top and a helmet, waiting for orders.

I grab the handlebars. My hands are huge, swallowing the grips. I look back over my shoulder, striking the pose. The exact pose from the videos. Ass out, biceps flexed, visor reflecting the world I’m about to conquer.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, my brother asking where I am. I don't even look at it.

The HUD flashes a new command.

DESTINATION: JAX'S APARTMENT. OBJECTIVE: DRAIN BALLS.

A drooling grin spreads across my face. I look like such a stud in the mirror. Huge arms. Veiny hands. A massive bulking package leaking inside my pants.

I swing my leg over the bike. The suspension sinks under my new weight. I feel powerful. I feel sexy. I feel like a total slut for Jax.

I start the engine. The vibration travels right up into my crotch and makes me groan.

I am coming Jax. I am bringing you your new toy.

[purgatorytf]

I've always enjoyed reading transformation fiction, and it's always such a shame that's all it is...fiction. There are so many things I could think about becoming if it were all real, but I understand the risks. For example, I have a close mate of mine that I've had something of a crush on for years now, super tall and slim but toned where he needs to be, dark curly hair, well groomed beard, and such a nice ass that definitely doesn't match his slender figure. Shame he's straight. I want nothing more than to be with him. It would be easy to try and change him to suit my needs, but that might change the way I see him. Even if I changed myself to be what he wants, those wants could change on a whim and then I'm stuck with him showing me no attention because his interest has gone.

No, I don't want to be what he wants; I want to be what he needs.

I have to admit, your mate is very handsome indeed. I understand why you'd have a crush on him. I mean, it's obvious just from the way you describe him. You're completely head over heels for him. But you don't want me to change him for you because .... you're scared you won't find him hot anymore ? So instead you want to ignore your feelings and become what HE wants instead ? It's kinda pathetic ... dude, you need to stop thinking about what other people want and think about what YOU want ! Take what's rightfully yours !

Now, i already hear you saying "he isn't for me to take", "it's objectifying", "even if i wanted to i'm not like that anyway", "i'm way out of his league" bla bla bla... Quit finding excuses bro. You said you wanted to become what he needs. Have you ever thought that what he's always needed was a man powerful enough to claim him ? I'm here to help you get what you want, do you want to pass that up ?

That's what i thought. Alright, so you'll need to listen to what i'm saying and everything will work out. I want you to close your eyes and think about your crush. Think about his dark locks and his beautiful eyes. Think about his plump lips and his fit body. How does that make you feel ?

"Like i want to be with him so bad ... like i want him to be my boyfriend ..."

Good ! These are your desires so why should you ignore them ? You want him to be yours right ? You want to make him yours ?

"Yeah .... i guess ....."

Alright, now i want you to think about his bubble butt, the one you've been secretly glancing at for years. Think about how round it is, how defined it looks in his gym shorts, how it bounces whenever he walks. What do you want to do with it ? You want to grab it right ?

"hum ... yeah ...."

But you want to do more than that. When you're at his place and you see him sleep, you want to grab his ass right ? You want to jiggle his plump bubble butt and feel it bounce. You want to spread his cheeks and then grind your dick against his tight hole right ?

"fuck .... yeah, i want that !"

You want to shove him into the mattress and shove your hard dick into him. You want him to take the full length of your cock and then you want to pound his ass into submission. You want both of you to fuck so hard that you'll be completely covered in sweat and that you'll fall asleep with your dick still in his warm hole.

"FUCK YES !!!"

"... but .... he's straight. I can't force that on him."

You won't have to force him. You'll convince him to give himself to you. You know you want it. Don't fight it bro, these feelings you've always had for him. Every time you see him, it's the only thing you can think about: turning him into your own personal buttslut.

You have the power to make that happen in you. Feel that burning power coursing through your veins. Feel how it's making your muscles surge, how it's making your dick enlarge into a tool designed for wrecking holes, how it's making you grow into the dominant jock with the strength to make him yours. And how it's filling you with the confidence to do it

At first you fight against your urges. This doesn't feel like who you are. But gradually, you realize that your obsession with your mate is too overwhelming, and it'll only be quenched if you accept this change.

Don't fight it bro, give in to your desires. Becomes the alpha beast that'll convert your mate into the cock-hungry bottom boy of your dreams. Accept these desires. Feel the countless tattoos etching themselves on your skin as you accept them, each one representing a desire you've embraced.

You eventually go beyond mere accentance, fully assimilating your desires into your very being. With it you've converted into a manly arrogant fuckboy who'll take what is rightfully his.

Open your eyes bro.

Check yourself out man. Feel those powerful rippling muscles. Smell that sweaty musk that'll get any bottom boy you want on their knees. Yeah, i can tell you love your new body by that smug look on your chiseled face.

Your personality has been improved: bolder, cocky, dominant, with a sex drive to match your new needs. Your massive package is already begging -no, demanding attention. You're a sexual beast. Now go and do what you've always wanted to.

Your mate was shocked by your new appearance. Your old self only peeking through in the traits of your face, otherwise drowned in a sea of muscle and ink.

"Dude, what happened to you ?"

"You'll address me as Sir from now on, boy."

Wasting no time, grabbing him forcefully and forcing him on his knees in front of you. You hold the back of his head and force him into the front of your shorts, making him breathe the musk emanating from your bulging package. Your mate struggles against you, pushing against you and trying to get himself free from the stench.

"Breathe in boy."

He resists at first, trying to get away and holding in breath so as not to inhale your intoxicating musk. But your masculine pheromones eventually start taking effect, clouding his brain in fluffy cotton candy. You feel his resistance gradually break down. His eyes glaze over and his arms fall to his sides. He's now taking deep breaths of your sweaty aroma, moaning in pleasure.

You finally got him exactly where you wanted him. Lifting his chin up, you looked at him in his puppy eyes and slid your thumb in his mouth.

"Daddy's gonna pop your cherry now. Turn around"

With a nod, your mate turned around and presented his willing ass to you. Not wasting any time, you ripped his shorts appart, revealing the smooth bubble butt you had spent so long fantasizing about. You whipped out your ten-inch cock and positioned its head against his tight hole.

With one deep stroke, you entered your whole length inside his ass. He groaned in pain at first, unfamiliar with this new sensation. It was entirely foreign to him. You didn't move, resting your hip against his ass, letting him get used to the feeling of your cock inside of him.

After breaking him in, you started going back and forth in thrusts of increasing energy. Your sexual needs took over, this was what you had been waiting for for so long. You pinned him down and went to town on his ass. His tight warm hole felt amazing, better than you could have ever imagined. With loud animalistic grunts, you gave your former mate a true pounding ... and he was loving it (click to see).

His hole was getting wrecked but it was the most pleasurable experience he had ever had. The feeling of your throbbing cock pushing against his prostate was completely rewiring his brain. You were making him high off of your dick and you were determined to make him fully addicted. With each thrust, more of his straightness was decimated and a bottom slut was being born. How could he have missed out on this for so long.

“Ahhh, fuuuuuuck. Holy shit dude.”

"Yeah that’s right bitch. You're gonna be my bottom bitch now boy."

"Please... make me your bitch, sir"

His hole was conforming perfectly to the shape of your cock and the sensation was making both of you go wild. You continued dicking him down like an animal in heat. You fucked him like you wanted his hole to be forever molded to your cock. Eventually, you exploded in a torrent of cum inside of him; seeding him and marking him as yours forever.

Feeling the flood of seed inside him, he came right after you. He would be addicted to getting his ass pounded for the rest of his life. You had transformed your former mate into nothing more than a cum-hungry slut.

Along with his rewritten psyche, his physical appearance quickly changed as well. The newly christened buttslut now only wore extremely revealing and tight clothes in order to show off his body to other men. He exclusively wore jockstraps so that any man could have easy access to his ass. His entire existence now revolved around pleasing men by getting his hole as well as his dick sucking lips stuffed with thick dicks.

His plain hair was bleached and dyed hot pink so that anyone would be aware of his bottom status. A permanent look of submissiveness was plastered on his face. The glint of intelligence in his eyes had faded and his dull look now only betrayed his craving for cum.

You were the first man in a long list of men who'll be using his holes from now on. But, as the first man to ever fucked and seed him with your potent cum, he would always belong to you. You had cunted him and his hole will forever be tailor made for your dick.

You finally had the fucktoy himbo boyfriend of your dreams. Enjoy !

[axeeglitter]

Here's to our thirties

The old wooden sign reading “Blackthorn Lake House” still hung crookedly from the rusted iron post at the end of the long gravel driveway, half-hidden by overgrown ivy. Joey’s truck rattled over the familiar potholes as the two men drove in silence for the last stretch. It was late May, the air thick with the scent of pine, damp earth, and blooming wildflowers. Duncan stared out the passenger window, one elbow resting on the door, his expression unreadable.

“Feels weird, doesn’t it?” Joey finally said, breaking the quiet. “Coming back here after all these years.”

Duncan nodded slowly. “Fifteen years. I still remember the last summer we spent here like it was yesterday. Mum cried for weeks after we left. She couldn’t even look at the place again.”

The house emerged from the trees like a ghost from their childhood. A large, two-story Victorian-style lakeside retreat with dark timber framing, wide verandas, and tall windows that once let in endless summer light. Now the paint was faded and peeling, the shutters on the upper floor hung at odd angles, and moss clung to the roof tiles. The garden had gone wild tall grass swaying in the breeze, rose bushes grown into chaotic thickets, and the old wooden dock stretching out over the dark water of the lake like a skeletal finger.

They parked and stepped out. The evening air was cool, carrying the gentle lapping of water against the shore. Crickets had already begun their nightly chorus.

“Still standing, at least,” Joey muttered, slinging a duffel bag over his shoulder. “Your mum never sold it?”

“Couldn’t bring herself to. It’s been in the family since my great-grandfather built it. After Uncle Richard disappeared… she just locked the doors and paid someone to check on it once a year.”

They climbed the creaky porch steps. Duncan pulled out an old key that still somehow worked. The heavy oak door groaned open, releasing a rush of stale, dusty air that smelled of aged wood, old books, and faint traces of pipe tobacco that somehow never fully faded.

Inside, time had frozen. The furniture was still draped in white sheets like ghosts. Duncan pulled one off the big leather sofa in the living room, sending a cloud of dust dancing in the golden evening light filtering through the windows.

“Jesus,” Joey laughed softly, running his fingers along the carved mantelpiece. “Look at this. We used to race Matchbox cars right here. You always cheated.”

“I did not,” Duncan protested with a grin. “You just sucked at it.”

They spent the next hour exploring the ground floor together, beers in hand. Every room triggered another memory. The kitchen where they’d made disastrous pancake experiments. The hallway where they’d slid down the banister until Duncan’s mother caught them. The study lined with dark oak shelves still filled with Uncle Richard’s old travel books, maps, and strange artifacts from every corner of the world.

Eventually they made their way upstairs, footsteps echoing on the worn hardwood. The door to the attic was at the end of the corridor, half-hidden behind a tall cabinet. Duncan hesitated for a moment before opening it. Narrow stairs led up into darkness. He flicked on the old light switch. A single bare bulb hummed to life, casting long shadows across the vast, cluttered space.

The attic was exactly as they remembered it low rafters, trunks stacked high, old furniture covered in sheets, and shelves upon shelves of Uncle Richard’s souvenirs. Brass instruments, carved wooden masks, colorful textiles, strange coins, and glass bottles from distant lands.

They sat on an old Persian rug in the middle of the floor, legs stretched out, cracking open fresh beers.

“God, we were so sure we’d end up like him,” Joey said quietly, gesturing at the collection around them. “Traveling the world. No ties. Pure freedom.”

Duncan took a long sip. “Yeah. Remember how we’d play explorers up here? You’d put on that old turban and declare yourself Sultan Joey the Magnificent. I was always your loyal adventurer sidekick.”

Joey chuckled. “We swore we’d never settle down. No mortgages, no office jobs, no responsibilities. Just passports full of stamps and stories worth telling.”

A comfortable silence fell for a moment before Duncan’s voice grew heavier. “Instead, I’m turning thirty in two days with a wedding planned, a promotion that feels more like a cage, and a spare tire I can’t get rid of no matter how many times I join a gym. Kelly’s great, but… sometimes I wonder what the hell happened to us.”

Joey stared at the floor. “Tell me about it. Cynthia’s seven months pregnant. I love her. I really do. But I’m still pouring pints at The Crown six nights a week. No degree, no prospects, just scraping by. We were supposed to be different, Duncan. We had stars in our eyes.”

They talked for a long time about the girls, the jobs, the quiet disappointment that had crept into their lives like fog over the lake. The conversation eventually drifted back to Uncle Richard.

“You know… I still think about him,” Duncan said, voice low. “Mum never talks about it. The official story was that he just… vanished. Packed a bag one night in late August and was gone. No note. No body. The police investigated for months but found nothing. Some people thought he ran off with a woman. Others said suicide. But we both know that wasn’t him.”

Joey nodded slowly. “He was the happiest person I’ve ever met. Always laughing, always planning the next trip. Remember that scar on his arm he said came from a camel bite in Morocco? Or the way he’d tell stories about getting lost in the souks of Marrakech? Who would have thought this would be his last trip…”

Duncan stood up and walked over to a particular shelf. He picked up a small, ornate oil lamp made of aged brass with intricate oriental patterns sitting on a dusty box. It looked remarkably clean compared to everything else in the attic.

"This was his favorite piece,” Duncan murmured. “He told us once that it was special. Said it had… history.” He turned it over in his hands. “Funny. After he disappeared, Mum wanted everything cleared out, but she couldn’t touch this room. Said it felt like he was still here.”

What Duncan didn’t know what no one in the family had ever known was the truth. Uncle Richard had indeed found this lamp years earlier during one of his travels. He had become its master. He had made his wishes. And when the Genie had finished granting them in his own cruel, creative way, Richard had been transformed and rewritten into a new life far from this one. The Genie had neatly erased him from this world, leaving only mystery and grief behind. The lamp had returned here, waiting patiently for the next pair of dreamers.

Joey stood up and joined him, taking the lamp gently. “Crazy to think we used to rub this thing as kids, hoping a genie would pop out and take us on adventures.” He rubbed his thumb across the surface absentmindedly while continuing to speak. “Imagine if it actually worked. We could fix everything. Get our old bodies back. Have the careers we should have had. Live the life we always talked about.”

He tossed the lamp lightly to Duncan. “Your turn to make a wish, birthday boy.”

Duncan caught it with a laugh and rubbed it as well, playing along. “Yeah, sure. Three wishes to turn our boring lives into something legendary.”

The moment his fingers completed the second rub, the lamp began to vibrate.

At first it was subtle a faint tremor. Then it grew stronger. Duncan frowned. “Joey… it’s getting warm.”

Joey stepped closer. “What do you mean warm? Let me see…”

Suddenly the brass grew scalding hot. Duncan cried out in shock and pain. “Fuck! It’s burning me!” He tried to drop it, but for a terrifying second his fingers seemed stuck to the metal. Joey grabbed at it instinctively to help, and searing pain shot through both their palms.

They finally managed to fling the lamp to the floor. It clattered loudly against the wooden boards. Both men staggered back, clutching their hands. Their palms were bright red, already blistering, the skin looking raw and angry. The pain was intense, throbbing in time with their racing heartbeats.

“Jesus Christ, what the hell was that?!” Joey gasped; teeth gritted. Tears of pain pricked at the corners of his eyes. “It felt like molten iron!”

Duncan was breathing hard, staring at the lamp on the floor. Thick purple smoke had begun to leak from its spout, swirling unnaturally, rising and twisting in deliberate patterns. The air in the attic grew heavy, charged, as if the temperature itself had shifted.

The smoke thickened, coalescing, taking shape.

A tall, powerfully muscled figure began to form bronzed skin, bare chest, sheer blue silk pants. The Genie’s eyes opened, glowing faintly, and a slow, knowing smile spread across his face.

The two friends stood frozen, pain and terror mixing as they stared at the impossible being now standing before them in the dusty attic.

The Genie tilted his head slightly, regarding their burned hands with mock sympathy. He raised one finger as if to say “wait,” and the purple smoke around him stirred again.

Then, very slowly, he began to move toward them.

The Genie stood before them in the dimly lit attic, towering and impossibly real. He was easily six and a half feet tall, with broad, powerfully sculpted shoulders and a chest that looked carved from warm bronze. His skin glowed with a healthy, sun-kissed tone. The only clothing, he wore was a pair of sheer blue silk pants that hung low on his narrow hips, the fabric so thin it revealed the heavy outline of his cock and balls with every subtle shift of his body. A faint, exotic scent of sandalwood, spice, and something electric filled the air.

Joey and Duncan pressed back against an old trunk, hearts hammering. Their burned hands throbbed with fierce pain.

“This isn’t real,” Joey whispered, voice shaking. “This can’t be real. Duncan, tell me this is some kind of fucked-up hallucination.”

Duncan couldn’t tear his eyes away from the being. “If it is, we’re both having it.”

The Genie’s lips curved into a slow, amused smile. His eyes a deep, piercing amber studied them with predatory interest. “Fear not, Masters. I mean you no immediate harm.” His voice was rich, cultured, with a faint accent that seemed to shift between languages. “You rubbed the lamp together. You freed me together. Therefore, you share three wishes. No more. No less.”

He took one graceful step forward. Joey flinched.

“Stay back!” Duncan shouted, cradling his blistered right hand against his chest. The pain was excruciating, like someone had pressed a hot iron into his palm. Blisters were already forming. Joey’s hand looked just as bad.

The Genie tilted his head, clearly enjoying their terror. “Such small injuries… and yet you tremble. How fragile humans are.” He raised his right hand slowly, deliberately, fingers spread. Purple smoke began to drift lazily from his fingertips. “Allow me to demonstrate my sincerity.”

Joey’s breathing quickened. “Don’t touch us! We don’t want anything from you!”

But the Genie ignored him. The smoke drifted toward them like living tendrils. Duncan tried to scramble backward but hit the trunk. The smoke gently coiled around both men’s injured hands without touching their skin. A strange warmth not burning this time, but soothing, almost silky enveloped their palms.

“Oh God…” Duncan breathed.

At first, nothing visible happened. The pain remained sharp. Then, very slowly, the Genie closed his eyes as if concentrating. The smoke pulsed. A tingling sensation spread across Duncan’s palm, like thousands of tiny needles dancing just beneath the surface. The redness began to fade from the edges inward. Blisters that had started to rise flattened gradually. The raw, angry skin lightened from crimson to pink, then to healthy flesh. The deep throbbing eased into a gentle itch, then disappeared entirely.

Duncan stared, wide-eyed, as he flexed his fingers. No pain. No mark. Nothing.

Joey’s healing was even slower, more theatrical. The Genie clearly wanted them to feel every second. Joey watched in horrified fascination as the blisters on his hand shrank, popped without fluid, and the skin knitted itself back together. The process took nearly a full minute. When it was done, both men’s hands looked completely untouched, as if the burns had never happened.

The Genie lowered his hand. The purple smoke dissolved. “Better?” he asked, voice dripping with mock politeness.

Duncan examined his palm under the attic bulb, turning it over and over. “How… how did you do that?”

“I am a Genie. Healing is among the simplest of arts.” He smiled again, but the expression never reached his eyes. Those eyes held centuries of cruel entertainment. “Now. You have three wishes. I suggest you use them thoughtfully. Many before you have regretted hasty words.”

Joey swallowed hard. His mind was racing. Part of him still screamed that this was impossible a prank, a dream, gas leak, anything. But the healed hands were undeniable. The being in front of them was undeniable.

He looked at Duncan. “We should just leave. Run. This thing is dangerous.”

Duncan hesitated, breathing heavily. “And if it’s real? If we actually have three wishes?” His voice dropped. “Joey… we’ve been talking all night about how we fucked up our lives. This could be our only chance.”

They stared at each other for a long moment. Fear and desperate hope warred on both their faces.

“Fine,” Joey said finally, voice hoarse. “But we think carefully. No rushing. We discuss every wish.”

The Genie crossed his powerful arms over his broad chest and waited, clearly entertained by their mortal panic.

Duncan spoke first, choosing his words with care. “Before we wish anything… what are the limits? Can we wish for anything?”

“Almost anything,” the Genie replied smoothly. “I cannot raise the dead in their original form. I cannot force genuine love where none exists. And I cannot undo wishes already granted. Everything else…” He spread his hands. “Is negotiable.”

Joey ran a hand through his hair, thinking hard. “Okay. Okay. We need to be smart.”

They sat down again on the old Persian rug, keeping distance from the Genie. For nearly twenty minutes they talked in low, urgent voices, weighing possibilities while the Genie watched silently, his smirk never fading.

Duncan went deep into his regrets. “I’ve put on nearly thirty pounds since university. I feel old. Slow. Every time I look in the mirror, I see a guy who gave up. If I could just have my twenty-year-old body back lean, strong, full of energy that alone would change everything. I could actually enjoy life again instead of feeling like I’m already declining at twenty-nine.”

Joey nodded slowly. “I get it. For me… it’s the wasted potential. I dropped out after first year. If I’d stuck with it, gotten my degree in finance like I planned… I could’ve given Cynthia and the baby a real future. Instead, I’m pouring beers and worrying about rent. I wish I had actually succeeded. That I’d become someone.”

They kept talking, circling the same fears. What if the wishes backfired? What if the Genie twisted them? They tried to add safeguards, but every condition they imagined felt clumsy.

Eventually Duncan stood up, lamp in hand. His voice was steady despite the fear in his eyes.

“I wish I had the body I had at twenty.”

The Genie’s amber eyes flashed with dark delight. He bowed his head slightly.

“As you wish.”

A faint pulse of energy passed through the attic, but no visible change occurred yet. Duncan exhaled shakily. “It… it didn’t do anything.”

“It will,” the Genie said softly. “When all three wishes are spoken.”

Joey took the lamp next. His hands were trembling. He thought of Cynthia, of the baby on the way, of all the nights he lay awake wondering how he’d provide. His voice cracked slightly.

“I wish I had gotten my degree and made something of myself.”

“As you wish,” the Genie repeated, the same hungry smile playing on his lips.

Another subtle pulse. Joey felt a strange flutter in his chest but pushed it down. He handed the lamp back to Duncan.

They stood shoulder to shoulder now, holding the lamp together. The weight of the moment pressed down on them. This was their last wish the one that had to count.

Duncan spoke carefully. “We’ve spent our whole lives dreaming about this. Travel. Adventure. Real excitement. No more boring routines. No more feeling like we settled.”

Joey finished the thought, voice firm despite his fear. “We wish for the exciting life full of travel and adventure we were always meant to have.”

The Genie was silent for several heartbeats. His smile slowly widened into something predatory and ancient. For the first time, both men felt a chill run down their spines, as if they had just stepped off a cliff.

“As you wish,” the Genie finally purred, each word dripping with satisfaction.

He raised his hand dramatically.

The air in the attic grew thick with purple smoke and electric tension. A low humming filled their ears. Both Joey and Duncan felt a strange warmth bloom in the center of their chests pleasant at first, then rapidly intensifying.

They looked at each other, eyes wide with a mixture of apprehension and exhilarating hope. For a short moment, they felt like they were on the edge of the greatest adventure of their lives. They had found the long-lost spark that animated their hearts and days.

In front of them, the genie was standing straight, a malicious smile covered his tanned cheeks and with a sweet movement of his wrist and fingers, he snaped.

Purple smoke exploded outward like a living storm, choking them in thick, electric heat. Joey gasped in surprise first shortly followed by an intense sensation of discomfort followed by pain as the agony ripped into his legs. “AHHHHHHH THE FUCK IS THAT!!! IT HURTS! MAKE IT STOP!” His thighs and calves shattered and swelled violently, bones lengthening with wet cracking sounds while powerful new muscle tore through his flesh. He collapsed to his knees as his feet followed, toes breaking and stretching, arches rising painfully as his shoes split apart. Joey tried to look around with the hope to see his friend ready to help him or the genie about to snap his fingers again to cancel this clearly bad outcome of their wishes but he saw nothing, only purple glittery smoke bocking everything from his view. “HELP ME!” He screamed one more time with the hope of finding help but he only heard a villainous laugh back in return echoing through the smoke and mist and coming back to his ears. What has been granted cannot be taken back, master… Duncan roared in terror as well. In the blink of an eye, the attic was gone and now all he could see was purple smoke all around him. He could still feel the wooden floor under his shoes but he couldn’t even see it. “Joey! Joey, are you alright? Where are you?! JOEY!!” he creamed for his friend feeling the anxiety skyrocketing through his veins. “JOE… AAAAHHHHHH!!” his sentence was cut short as he felt a rush of heat followed by pain of breaking bones crashing through his legs. Joey could feel his legs ballooned next, muscles exploding with brutal force far beyond anything from his youth.

The Genie hovered closer, smiling with dark amusement. “Begging already? How precious. This is only the beginning, Masters…” his voice echoing to both of them through the smoke.

The burning surged upward. Both men gasped and screamed as their chests expanded with sickening pops. Ribs widened, pectorals ballooning into thick, heavy slabs of muscle that stretched their skin painfully tight. “It’s breaking me apart!” Duncan howled. “Please… make it stop!”

Coarse dark hair erupted in their armpits as fresh sweat glands activated, flooding the attic with a thick, pungent masculine musk, heavy testosterone and raw male sweat. A dense treasure trail raced up from their groins, spreading across their newly carved abs and fanning over their swollen pecs.

Joey whimpered brokenly, “I can’t… I can’t breathe… please…” as he was feeling his overheating body starting to shut down and his vision blurring darkly because of his restarting nervous system and rearranging organs.

Duncan was crying and screaming in pain as he could feel his limbs starting to spasm on their own, muscles activating by forced electric signal sent by his brain drowning in a cocktail of hormones. He could feel his heart beat in each of his cells and could hear the sound of his pumping heart. Duncan was starting to dissociate when he heard the genie snap his fingers one more time. Out of nowhere, he felt his senses coming back to him as he heard the genie talk directly in his brain. “We don’t want you to miss the best part of the show, do we?” Out of nowhere, Duncan felt blood coursing through his body in one central position as he could feel his cock straining his jeans and getting trapped against his muscled and hairy thighs.  

His cock surged forward with vicious intensity, thickening and lengthening into a massive uncut cock and with one more spasm from his un-controlling body and pumping heart, his cock contracted and torn apart his fly as he felt it slap hard against his hard rock forming abs. in the blink of an eye, it started to feel active and soon he could feel precum pumping out of his urethra and slushing all around his hairy abs.

Joey could feel changes happening to him as well. He was screaming in pain and fear as he could feel his cock straining against what was left of his Calvin Klein underwear. He could feel his heart beat in his hardening cock head as he could feel his foreskin starting to tighten around it because of the pression caused by his blood system. He could feel his nuts pulling lower and lower as sperm started to be product in huge proportions. His cock head was starting to look downward because of its weight and now was permanently bent down and slightly on the left side because of his left ball which were bigger than the right one.

“Please…. Stop, thi… iis” Joey said as he could feel his throat starting to heat up shortly followed by his chin and whole face.  His features twisted in agony as his jaw sharpened, cheekbones rose, and his eyes tilted. “HHAAAAaaAaaAaaaAAaaa… UUUHHHHhhhhHHHhH “screamed Joey as his voice cracked and shattered mid-scream, shifting into a younger, melodic tone thick with a heavy Arabic accent. “MAkE iT stoP!!” Joey screamed one more time as his voice settled for a younger one.

Duncan’s own face hardened into something rugged and commanding, heavy stubble exploding across his jaw while a thick mustache appeared above his upper lip. “What is happening?!” he screamed as his voice dropped into a deep, authoritative baritone.

“You two already sound way more in character!” said the genie to himself as he could see the possibilities opening for both of his masters in front of his eyes, appearing and disappearing in the purple mist.

Joey was still crying in fear and pain, his knees still on the ground when he felt the heat coming back. “GOD NO, NOT AGAIN… PLEASE!!” the heat continued to climb and hike all around his tightened skin, leaving behind a rich golden-bronze hue, turning his skin into smooth coffee-toned perfection while Duncan’s deepened into a reddish sun-bronzed, powerful athletic glow. Joey was crying as he could see his transformed and tanned hands in front of him, no sound coming out of his mouth because even the sound of his voice was terrifying to him now. Creeping behind him, he heard the low baritone voice of the genie once again and felt chills running up his elongated spine. “Something is missing… I don’t see your character fully… But what is it…” the genie continued as Joey turned around trying to face him and thinking that maybe if he did, he would be able to beg him face to face to turn him back but when he did, he saw nothing except the purple void. “Found it!” he heard once again coming in front of him. Joey’s eyes opened wide as he saw the genie materialized in front of him and with the flick of his wrists, he felt his torn clothes disintegrate into glitter that swirled in the mist.

Joey was hoping to see the kind face he saw when the genie first appeared to them but all he saw was the manly face wearing a vicious smile. The genie opened his hands and Joey could feel pressure building in his dick. “What are you doing?” He asked shaking in fear of what was about to happen. “Please tell me, what are you do… AAAAHHHHHHH” The genie reached down and roughly seized Joey’s foreskin still covering the head of his enlarged new cock. Joey’s eyes widened in pure panic.

“No! No no no… IT’S GONNA BREAK, STOOOOO!!!” he screamed.

Duncan stared in horror and fear as he could hear the deep accented voice of someone echoing back to him, slightly muted by the mist hugging his modified body. He could feel his body continuing to spasm on its own without him having any control on it. He could feel his dick exhaling drops of precum with every heart beat, smashed against his hairy abs and leaking along his muscled thighs. The Genie turned his back to Joey and smiled as he saw Duncan was still lost in the haze of his hormones and sensations while continuing to tear on Joey’s foreskin. “I’m begging you… Please… Stop teari…”

SCRATCH With one flick of his wrist, the genie torn out the foreskin as it detached in a snapping motion, releasing Joey’s cock that flopped back down against his legs, pointing downwards. His cock head now fully uncovered and extremely sensitive as he could feel the particles of purple dust touching his extremely sensitive skin. Joey was crying in fear as he realized the pain was completely gone.in fact, in a couple of second, all sensations were gone. It felt like his nerves had been numbed by years of frictions and movements against his now hardened cock head. He looked down and realize a neatly crafted scar was circling the base of his cock head. He tilted his head back up to the genie as he watched the genie looking with a smile at the palm of his hand. “Why have you done that… What have you done to me…” Joey continued to ask in a febrile voice. The genie didn’t even look at him. He just continued to smile as he grabbed back his thick veiny cock in the palm of his left hand.

The Genie held the twitching piece of foreskin in his palm, exhaled a stream of purple smoke over it. The piece of foreskin started to levitate and rotate faster and faster in the palm of the genie. Joey could start to feel like his cock head was getting jerked off even though no one was touching it. The faster the foreskin went, the more he felt he was on the edge of cumming. Joey tilted his head back up with almost out of breath as he could feel the orgasm rushing to him and his mouth barely open to let his breathing flow out. The genie was looking at him and with a quick movement, he closes his hand on the foreskin. Joey could feel pressure building in his groin as it felt like he was getting jerked off faster and faster. Then as he was about to cum, his eyes starting to revolve inside his skull, the genie opened his hand again and all the sensations were gone, leaving Joey out of breath on the edge of orgasm. In the palm of his hand, the foreskin was gone, reformed as a shiny golden loop earing with a blue sapphire on it. Joey didn’t understand any of what happened, his brain still trying to function properly as it still was lacking oxygen from the forced edging session. “What was that… what have you… done… Where is it…” Joey asked out of breath but the genie never answered, he just snapped his fingers and suddenly the golden foreskin earing disappeared in shimmer. Instantly, Joey felt a pressure building on his left lobe as he could feel it heating up with a pinching sensation. joey was left flabbergasted, not understanding any of what just happened and what happened to his foreskin. He tried to look around, maybe catching his reflection in a shiny surface or something, but he didn’t see any of it. All he could feel was the cold wind on his numb cock head and the sensation of something dangling from his ear.

The Genie laughed softly, stroking his own massive erection. “I knew something was missing, master… now you look exactly like you should have, ready for your next big adventure.” The genie took a step back and snapped his fingers one more time. Both Duncan and Joey felt like a weight had been lifted from their shoulders and like they could breathe again for the first time since the mist invaded their lungs.

As the two men collapsed, gasping and twitching in their new bodies, their old clothes finished to dissolve away. They stood there naked and, on the ground, as they could see the mist starting to fall to the ground and with them changing the dusty attic into a new room. Something with white industrial lights handing from the rooves. Then tiles started to appear on the walls soon followed by the ancient wooden cabinets turned into metallic lockers covered with stickers and grim. as the mist finally reach their heads, new clothes started to shimmer into existence around their transformed bodies. A tight pair of black sport shorts for Duncan and a fitted V collar T-shirt with a black baseball hat. Then a pair of well used white trainers and high sport socks appeared on his bigger feet. On Joey, a white jockstrap appeared on his body, forcing his cock to look downwards again, now fully entrapped inside the cotton prison and almost nudging against his own ass hole. The pouch being extremely prominent. Then a pair of tight-fitting black soccer shoes appeared on his tanned musky feet as socks finished to materialized against his legs climbing up to his knees.

The Genie kept lazily stroking his enormous, throbbing cock, veins pulsing under his bronze fingers as he watched the two broken men on the floor. His smile widened with sadistic pleasure.

“Look at you both… already so pretty in your new skins.” He then grabbed Joey by his thick, dark hair and yanked his head forward. “Open up, stud. Time to taste your new reality.”

Joey tried to pull away, eyes wide with terror. “No! Please don’… I’m not… I won’t…!” But the Genie’s grip was iron. He slapped his heavy, leaking cock against Joey’s plump new lips, smearing sticky precum across them.

“That’s it… fight me. I love when masters start to realize I am the one holding the cards.” The Genie laughed, low and cruel, then forced the thick head past Joey’s resisting lips and deep into his mouth. Joey gagged violently, eyes watering as the massive shaft stretched his throat. The Genie held his head in place and began thrusting with slow, deliberate strokes, fucking his face with relish.

“Mmmph! Mmmghh!” Joey’s muffled screams vibrated around the Genie’s cock. Tears streamed down his bronzed cheeks as he choked and drooled.

The Genie groaned in pleasure and taunted him between thrusts. “Yes… just like that. Suck it, stud. This is what your exciting new life tastes like. Keep crying… I love how your throat squeezes when you panic.” He laughed again, deep and mocking, pushing even deeper until Joey’s nose pressed against his hairy musky shimmering pubes.

After several long, brutal minutes of face-fucking, the Genie’s balls tightened. “Here it comes, boy. Drink every drop like the good little whore you’ve always been.”

With a loud, satisfied roar, the Genie came hard. Thick, glowing ropes of purple-tinged cum flooded Joey’s mouth and throat. Joey thrashed, desperately trying to pull back, but the Genie held him firm while laughing in pure pleasure. “Swallow it all. That’s it… good boy.” Joey continued to resist, gasping for air as he could feel cum rushing directly in his stomach. A weird feeling invading his throat and mouth as it felt like his tongue was numbing a bit. After a couple of minutes frozen like that, the Genie slowly pull his still rock-hard cock free with a wet pop. Joey immediately tried to scream for help and gasping for air.

“Air, I need air…. Huuuuuuuuuu. I couldn’t breathe…” But the words that came out were completely different: “هواء، أحتاج إلى هواء... هووووو ...!” His eyes widened in pure panic. He clutched his throat, trying again. “What the fuck?! Why can’t I speak English?! WHAT THE FUCK!!” Only fluent, desperate Arabic poured out: “يا إلهي! لماذا لا أستطيع التحدث بالإنجليزية؟! يا إلهي!”.

No matter how hard he tried, English was completely gone. He kept repeating frantic Arabic pleas, voice cracking with rising hysteria.

“أرجوك… أعدوني! أنا لا أريد هذا!” (Please… change me back! I don’t want this!)

Duncan stared in the distance, his head still spinning and still feeling dizzy from the smoke leaving his older lungs, taking more time to regain his senses. “Joey? Are you ok? Where are you, where are we?! What happened to us...”

The Genie turned away from Joey’s sobbing of incomprehension. He took a look at Duncan and with a happy smile of work well done, he snapped his fingers.

Duncan suddenly gasped, clutching his head as memories began flashing violently before his eyes. Kelly smiling at him on their first date suddenly appeared clearly in front of his eyes, he felt like reliving this moment in the smallest detail but as his lips left her, he opened his eyes only to realize Kelly was now burning from his memories as in her place stood a very muscled Latino athlete looking at him with eyes full of admiration and hungriness. He couldn’t understand what happened or why that happened, suddenly he blinked and he was no longer on a bench in the park but instead in his living room with his computer on his laps, Kelly hugging him as they were planning their honeymoon, the house they wanted to buy, lazy Sunday mornings together… One by one they ignited and disintegrated. In their place, new memories flooded in with brutal clarity: the thrill of sneaking young athletes into hotel rooms during tournaments, the wet sound of tight asses stretching around his thick cock, the addictive taste of sweat and submission, the roar of stadium crowds mixed with moans in locker room showers.

“No… no, stop!” Duncan screamed, voice breaking.

“Kelly! Stop that please… KELLY!! I … I… Get out of my head! That’s not me… I’m not… I want to marry her… I love her… I… love her? Fuck… I love… her tight… No that’s not me, STOP IT!!! I love… his… ass? I LOVE FUCKING ASS!! NO Please… don’t…. do this…. Kelly… I love…” He fell to his knees as more of his old life was ripped away. The memory of proposing to Kelly burned to nothing and was replaced by the image of him balls-deep in a muscular exchange student after a late training session. Every time he tried to cling to who he was, another piece turned to ash. His personality was shifting, getting confidence, dominance, and an insatiable hunger for male bodies overwriting his old shy, settled nature.

“Please… I don’t want this… I’m Duncan, I’m not…” His resistance grew weaker as the new identity took root. Suddenly a new memory appeared in flashing color in front of his eyes, a new name appeared and engraved itself in his brain. Noah. He is Noah, he has always been and always will be. He is the coach, Noah. The traveler. The predator who lived for the next tight hole and the next victory.

The Genie watched with dark delight, lazily stroking himself again. “Welcome in your new life, master Duncan.”

The man who used to be Duncan, now fully Noah, stepped up as his manly hands caressed his hairy pecs, a dominant smile appearing on his cheeks as he took his first step into his new life, his cock rock hard and pressing against the front of his shorts, leaving nothing to imagination. He took another step and suddenly Joey heard the Snap echoing again. Suddenly, he felt his body starting to levitate from the wet musky tiled floor to the seat of a wooden bench that had seen thousands of athletic asses through the years. Joey tried to resist but his body was completely immobilizing by the purple magic controlling and positioning him, his legs then were positioned up, giving free access to his tight hole. Joey tried once again to scream for help but was still in incapacity to talk anything else then Arabic. He heard the genie laugh as he saw Duncan getting closer and closer to him, positioning himself between Joey’s forcibly spread legs.

His thick, veiny uncut cock throbbed angrily, already drooling precum onto the boy’s smooth, tight hole. Joey’s heart hammered in terror.

“Duncan, please don’t do this. We are friend, remember about Kelly. No don’t please, DON’T!!” he begged in fluent Arabic, voice shaking.

“أرجوك... هذا ليس أنت! أنا جوي! توقف!!!” (Please… this isn’t you! It's me, I’m Joey! Stop!).

Noah didn’t understand a word. He just grinned, spat on his cock, and pressed the fat, leaking head against Joey’s virgin entrance. With one brutal thrust, he forced half his massive length inside. Joey screamed, back arching off the bench as his hole was violently stretched open.

“AAAAAH! ألم! أرجوك توقف! إنه يؤلمني!” (It hurts! Please stop! It hurts so much!). Noah groaned in pleasure and kept pushing deeper, inch by thick inch, until his heavy balls rested against Joey’s ass. “Fuck… so goddamn tight. This Moroccan bitch was made for cock.”

Joey’s eyes rolled back as Noah started fucking him with long, powerful strokes, each one slamming harder than the last. The wet, obscene sound of skin slapping skin filled the locker room. Joey’s heavy circumcised cock bounced uselessly against his abs, leaking despite his horror.

Suddenly, Joey noticed movement above them. The Genie hovered near the ceiling, lazily stroking his own enormous cock and watching with cruel delight. Their eyes met. The Genie smirked, raised his hand, and snapped his fingers.

In that instant, the Genie’s form disappeared in shimmer. Then Joey saw from the corner of his eyes the air near the lockers next to the door starting to move and agitate. He then saw the genie’s silhouette appear and stated to melt and shrink, transforming into a tall, muscular young athlete with short black hair and a cocky grin. At the same moment, the locker room door swung open.

Captain Josh and four of his teammates walked in, already half-hard in their shorts thanks to the very intensive training and the overdose of testosterone and horniness running through their veins.

The newly-transformed Genie simply stepped forward and joined them, laughing with them all like he had always been a part of the group. No one else noticed anything strange and then even started to laugh back and talk like they truly know each other from years of practices and friendship.

“Coach! you already started without us?” Josh laughed loudly. “Look at Ahmed. Little slut can’t even wait.”

The players quickly stripped, tossing their clothes aside. Thick, hard cocks sprang free. Joey tried to plead with them, eyes wide with panic.

“أرجوكم، أتوسل إليكم، يجب أن تساعدوني. أنا لست أحمد، أنا جوي، لدي حبيبة وسأرزق بطفل قريبًا. أريد العودة إلى بيتي، ساعدوني، أرجوكم!!” (Please I’m begging you, you have to help me. I am not this Ahmed, I am Joey, I have a girlfriend and soon a baby boy. I want to go back home, Help me, please!!!).

The players just chuckled, not understanding a single word that came out of Joey’s mouth. One of them then took a step forward, his thick veiny cock in hand as he lazily jerked off. Joey opened tilted his head only to realize it was the genie now in the jock’s body. “أرجوك لا تفعل ذلك، لا أريد هذه الحياة، لم أتمنَّ ذلك... مممم ...” (Please don’t do that, I don’t want this life, I didn’t wish for that… mmMMMmmGGgMGgggGG) Joey couldn’t even finish his words as the genie grabbed Joey by the hair and shoved his thick cock straight into the boy’s pleading mouth, cutting off his words. “Shut the fuck up with that Arabic shit,” he laughed. “Good little cumdump doesn’t need to talk.”

Everyone roared with laughter as they surrounded him. “Let’s go guys, we have a tanned bitch to fuck!” Josh mocked while lining up his cock at Joey’s already-stuffed hole alongside Noah’s.

“Maybe you’ll start to pick some words up after taking so much American cream!”.

They descended on him without mercy. Noah and Josh double-penetrated his ass, stretching him brutally wide while two others took turns fucking his throat once the genie was done with him. Hands roamed over his sweat-slicked bronze body, slapping his ass, pinching his nipples, and constantly tugging on the golden earring. Every pull sent humiliating jolts of forced pleasure through his cock.

“Fucking perfect exchange student,” one player grunted as he hammered into Joey’s throat. “Came all the way from Morocco just to be our team bitch.”

“Bet his family would be so proud seeing him like this,” another laughed. “He truly lives his American dream!”

Joey could only sob and gag around the cocks in his mouth, tears streaming down his face. “مممغhhh— أرجوكم… أنا لست مثل هذا… أريد Cynthia… أريد طفلي…” (Please… I’m not like this… I want Cynthia… I want my baby…). None of them could understand him and they didn’t care. They just kept using him harder, rotating positions, filling every hole, painting his bronzed skin with sweat and spit.

After what felt like an eternity of relentless pounding, the Genie still wearing the jock identity saw that Joey was on the edge of losing himself, his cock played with like a joystick by the one currently fucking him. He felt like he was on the edge but never close enough so he could be forced to cum. The genie then grabbed the athlete that was hard fucking Joey by the shoulders and tapped his scapula as he asked for him to give him the space so he could finish inside the bitch. The athlete laughs and then took his cock out of Joey’s opened ass. “أرجوك... لا أستطيع فعل ذلك بعد الآن... أرجوك...” (Please… I can’t do …that, anymore… Please…). Once again, Joey was cut short as the genie got his mouth closer to his ear and murmured. “I hope you’ll enjoy your new life, Master!” Suddenly, he grabbed the earing between his calloused fingers and Joey felt like someone was directly playing with his cockhead and whole length. It felt like he was getting jerked off by the most delicate hand ever, it felt like he was getting sucked by the warmest mouth. His breath started to path faster and faster as he we slowly losing his sight, invaded by a pure feeling of pleasure. In front of his blurring vision, the genie smiled as he started to fuck him faster and faster, enjoying the view of Joey slowly losing his grip on reality and falling into dissociation. With one more thrust of his cock deep against Joey’s prostate and a pinch of the hearing, the genie came hard and deep inside Joey’s welcoming hole, and as he did, Joey felt the orgasm finally rushing past the point of no return as he could feel his length starting to contract and in an instant, starting to release the only trace of his Britannic DNA.

A devastating orgasm ripped through him. His circumcised cock exploded hands-free, shooting thick ropes of cum across his own chest and abs while every muscle in his body spasmed around the cocks buried inside him.

In that exact moment, his mind shattered and reformed.

Memories burned away in purple fire: the old house at Blackthorn Lake… the summers with Duncan… proposing to Cynthia… the ultrasound pictures of their unborn baby boy… nights at the bar dreaming of travel… all of it turned to ash. New memories flooded in to replace them, a sun-drenched childhood in Morocco, arriving in Huston at 21 as an exchange student, struggling with English, quickly discovering he was gay and addicted to getting fucked and used like the sextoy he truly was. The endless locker room sessions, the hotel rooms during away games, the thrill of being passed around by the team. He was Ahmed now. A 21-year-old power bottom who lived for cock, especially Coach Noah’s and his teammates’. English was hard for him, but his body spoke fluently.

When the orgasm finally faded, Ahmed blinked slowly, a slutty, satisfied grin spreading across his cum-covered face.

“Coach Noah…” he moaned in heavily accented English; voice hoarse but eager. “المزيد... مارس الجنس معي بقوة أكبر، من فضلك...”.

The players laughed and kept going, knowing their favorite cumdump was ready for another round.

Coach Noah was waiting behind them, his arms crossed as he felt his cock jump in anticipation knowing he would require a private session with Ahmed later on in his office. Only Ahmed and him.

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In the months that followed, Noah and Ahmed lived the exciting life full of travel and adventure they had wished for so desperately in that dusty attic.

They flew from city to city, country to country, following the demanding schedule of international university tournaments. New hotels every week. New locker rooms. New opponents, and new teammates, eager to celebrate victories deep into the night.

Noah’s powerful 6’3” body, thick with muscle and commanding presence, was everything Duncan had once dreamed of and more. He thrived as the dominant, respected coach who lived for the game… and for bending young athletes over whenever the mood struck him.

Ahmed, the 21-year-old Moroccan exchange student, had become the star attacking midfielder everyone wanted. He had gotten his degree in the form of a sports scholarship and was well on his way to making something of himself and his life, at least on the pitch and in the bedroom. His bronzed, athletic body and eager, talented hole made him the team’s favorite power bottom. He barely spoke English, but he didn’t need to. His body communicated perfectly.

Every night after training or matches, Ahmed found himself exactly where he now belonged: legs spread wide, moaning sluttily in Arabic and broken English as Coach Noah and the boys took turns wrecking him. The golden earring made from his former foreskin remained his most sensitive spot, one playful tug and he would cum hands-free, shaking and begging for more like the perfect cumdump he had become.

All that remained were sun-soaked memories of Morocco, the thrill of arriving in Huston, and the addictive rush of being passed around by his coach and teammates. He was happier than he had ever been, a gay, cock-hungry 21-year-old who lived for the next load and the next victory.

The wishes had been granted and they would finally live the lives they craved for.

They no longer remembered Cynthia and Kelly. They no longer remembered the baby and their bored lives. They no longer remembered Duncan, Joey, the attic, or the terrified man they used to be.

High above, safely tucked away in the ornate brass lamp that now rested on Coach Noah’s office desk, the Genie leaned back in his lamp with a contented sigh. Once known as Uncle Richard many decades ago, he had learned this lesson the hard way himself after wishing for a life full of magical adventures and being able to help people while having a long and joyful life full of pleasure and happy moments. Now he made sure others learned it too, slowly, thoroughly, and without mercy, one wish at the time.

Some dreams are better to be left in the past.

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Hello everyone!!

I hope you’re having an amazing day! This is the story you guys voted for, with a little twist from my side. I had a blast writing it, and I think this one might be one of my all-time favorites to this day.

Thank you so much to everybody who voted in the poll, and thank you so much to @bremenmask for sending me this ask. I really appreciated it, and I hope you’ll enjoy it as much as I did writing it.

This story officially marks my first step into my thirties, and I hope they’ll be just as good as the previous decade. I want to thank all the friends I’ve made along this journey, and I can’t wait to meet new ones.

To everybody who has sent me kind messages, please know that even if I don’t reply to all of you, I read everything, and I love interacting with you as much as possible. So please continue to send me messages if you want to talk about ideas or simply if you feel lonely :)

A huge thank you as well to @mystrangetfs for his very useful help in brainstorming and putting this story together, especially for helping me create and find the pictures.

I can’t wait to hear your feedback, and I hope you’ll appreciate this story as much as I do.

Here’s to our 30s and to the rest of our lives.

Wish Granted...

[misctf]

The Game Show

You can think of a few reasons why you found yourself in the audience that night. Well, really one. When you heard "Are You Smarter Than A Himbo" was putting on a show in your neighborhood, you couldn't resist. Sure, it was kind of stupid. You'd seen the clips online. They'd bring some braindead jock up on stage to flex, laugh, crack jokes, and answer basic trivia wrong. The poor idiot would laugh along as the audience laughed at him. You'd always figured the dunce was too dumb to realize they were laughing at him. But fuck, those guys were hot. So if anything, you'd get to ogle at some hot guy flexing all night and maybe get a few laughs out of it too.

"Do you think Zak's pecs are real?"

"Jason is like totally the hottest."

"I think Ryan isn't as dumb as he lets on."

"Did you know Mike is single? I can't…"

You roll your eyes at the fanfare all around you. These people were seriously into it. And then it starts.

"Welcome everyone!" You watch as a lanky man struts on stage with his hair slicked back and a wide grin on his face, "Are you ready!?" The crowd- mostly women and a few guys cheered in response, "I said: are you ready!?" You roll your eyes as the host worked the crowd, "Alright, alright… welcome." The host smiles wider, "Put your hands together for our main man!"

The host gestures toward the side of the stage and Zak strolls out with a slow, confident walk, his arms flexed as if expecting applause. He’s got thick curls falling over his forehead, and his chest is packed with muscle, tight under his white tank top. The crowd goes wild as he steps onto the platform.

“Y’all ready?” Zak shouts, raising both arms above his head. “Let’s go!” He pulls off his shirt in one smooth motion, and your eyes widen as you take in his massive pecs and perfect abs. The crowd similarly goes wild. Zak grins, flashing a perfect set of teeth, "I'm so fuckin' pumped to be here tonight! I fuckin' love you guys!"

"But Zak, I think you have something to say to everyone. Right?" The host interjects, patting the massive jock on the back.

"Yo dude yeah, for real." Zak nods, "Like, this is gonna be my last show, ya know? With the whole modeling thing blowin' up and all." The audience groans, "I know, it sucks majorly, trust me!" Zak frowns, "But like, you'll get to see plenty more of me. Trust me brahs." He winks and the crowd cheers.

The host claps, "That’s what I like to hear! Alright, let’s get started!"

You lean forward in your seat as the first audience member is brought up. It only takes a few questions for her to utterly humiliate Zak, who just laughs and flexes like the dumb himbo that he is. As the contestant returns to her seat, the host's eyes scan the crowd, zeroing in on you.

"What about you there in the blue shirt? He looks smart, right Zak? Let's get you up here!"

Initially you're shocked. You? The host gestures for you to make your way up to the stage. You can feel your heart pounding as you climb the stairs, palms feeling a little sweaty. The bright lights, all eyes on you. And as you step onto the stage, you get an up close look of Zak. His biceps bulge impressively, glistening with a light sheen of sweat. But god he smells like a wet gym sock.

"Sup bro, nice to meetcha!" Zak grins and throws a muscular arm around you, "Dude, you ready for this?"

"Aw do I sense a budding bromance?" The host grins and the crowd cheers. After settling them down, he turns to you. "You know how this works by now. Do you think you're smarter than a himbo?"

"Yeah, I think I am." You reply.

"Heh we'll see about that, bro!" Zak guffaws, "I was just goin' easy on that last chick."

"The confidence!" The host laughs, "Let's put it to the test. Your first question: Which is the only sea without any coastlines?"

You ponder for a moment. A sea without a coastline? That's... god what was that? You feel your cheeks flushing red, as you realize you don't know the answer to that. But if you don't know the answer, Zak would definitely not know either. Speaking of Zak, he's bouncing his pecs like the oversized gym bro he is.

"Is it the Caspian Sea?" You shrug, eyes still locked on his massive pecs. Of course the host shakes his head with exaggerated sadness.

"Ah, seems Mr. Smartypants here was a bit too distracted admiring the view to ace that question!" He winks at the audience, while Zak flexes.

"No shame in that, brah!"

You feel your face flush red with embarrassment as the laughter from the audience washes over you. Great, now they all think you're just another hormone-addled fool who can't string two thoughts together because of a pretty face.

"Alright Zak, a question for you now buddy!" You figure Zak is about to bomb this question anyway- round will end in a tie and you can walk away with some dignity, "What color are bananas?"

Zak scratches his head, "Dude… tricky." He chuckles, low and dumb, "So, I want to say yellow, but also green when they're not ripe. Oh but brown too if they go for too long!"

"Fantastic answer Zak! Well thought out!" The host grins as the crowd cheers, "Uh oh, looks like Zak has pulled ahead!"

The fuck kind of question was that? You look at the host and then Zak, who is doing a victory dance. The color of bananas? Of course Zak would know that- he's a fucking ape. You smirk at your own joke.

"Okay okay, let's try another one! Mr. Smartypants, are you ready to redeem yourself?" You're ready, more than ready. You're not..., "What pigments are responsible for the red color of leaves?"

Your mouth opens, but no words come out. You don't have an answer for that. Maybe you did know it, but between the flexing stud and the stage fright, you couldn't find the information.

"Chlorophyll."

"What a shame! That is not correct." He smiles at the audience, "It seems Zak may have a chance to widen his lead! Hey big guy, what day of the month is Christmas celebrated on?" It takes Zak maybe a minute or two to answer that one correctly, "Look at that folks, Zak is now up by two!" He turns to you with a grin, "Seems our guest is not much of a smartypants after all!"

Again, your face flush reds, "No worries, little dude." Zak ruffles your hair, "I uh, I got some smarts, ya know." He looks out towards the audience, "Last show brahs but first win!"

The crowd cheers and it dawns on you that you might be the first person to actually lose this stupid game. Frustration bubbles up inside you as the host and crowd continue to mock you. You're better than this, smarter than being made a fool of. Screw it, you're going to show them all up.

"I could answer every single one of those easy-ass questions he's getting," you mutter under your breath, but the mic picks it up anyway. The host's eyes light up.

"Oh ho, is that so?" He raises an eyebrow, a smirk gracing his features. "Well then, why don't you prove it, hot shot? Let's see if you can handle something a little more…your speed. Here we go bud - how does the body cool down during intense exercise like a heavy workout session?"

You chuckle. Really? This was the question? You clear your voice, "Sweating. That's how it keeps from overheating."

"Correct!"

"Woah bro, nice one!"

Yeah... that was a nice one. Finally got a question right... finally... You wince as a warmth fills your upper arms. At first it's just a gentle tingling, a warm buzzing beneath your skin. But quickly it builds to a throbbing, insistent pressure.

"What the…?"

The sensation intensifies, an intensifying heat pulsing through your upper arms. Your skin prickles and tightens as your biceps and triceps stretch against the sleeve of your shirt. It feels like the most intense pump after a grueling workout, but magnified tenfold. Your arms throbbing, aching. You feel aware of just how much more space they're taking up. And the twitching- it's incessant. Unconsciously, your arms start to rise, muscles tensing, flexing…

"Whoa…" you mutter, marveling at the sheer size and density of your upper arms, "How…?"

The host clears his throat pointedly, breaking you out of your awestruck reverie. "Ahem, moving on! Thanks for that… demonstration." He shoots you a knowing wink, a sly grin playing at the corners of his mouth. "Let's see if we can't challenge that big ol' brain of yours with another question, shall we? What does the acronym SBD stand for in powerlifting?"

"Oh brah, way too easy." Zak chides, crossing his massive arms over his muscular chest, "Even I know that one."

But your head is swimming. The powerful feeling in your arms send pleasurable waves of warmth through your body. But your mind. You're reviewing the question. Thinking it through. SBD? In powerlifting?

"SBD... SBD..." You rub your chin, unconsciously flexing your now massive bicep, "Huh... like... That's uh..."

You look over at Zak and he's making some kind of motion. A goofy grin on his face as he squats. Squats. Squats!

"Bro!" You grin, "Squats, dude! Yeah, that's what the S stands for." You grin, but the host shakes his head, "C'mon what?" You pout.

"You're still forgetting the rest." The host smiles, "And the timer is counting down."

You shuffle anxiously on your feet. You know this, right? But why would you? You're not into powerlifting. But like, it should be easy. If S stands for squats then like, wouldn't B and D also be something to do with working out? Yeah? Totally, that makes sense. But like, what else is there? What other... huh... shirt is getting kinda tight too. And fuck, you can't help but notice how warm your chest feels. Nice and warm, pressing more and more against the fabric of your shirt. Stretching it out against your big, meaty...

"Bench press, brah! B stands for bench press!" You say with a grin as your shirt starts to tear away, revealing a set of massive pecs and a chiseled torso, "Huh where'd my shirt go?" The audience cheers and you grin, staring down as you bounce your pecs.

"Excellent job, but unfortunately, you didn't finish. You missed D, you big dunce."

The host laughs, and you laugh along with him and the audience. Big dunce. Yeah that's... that's you? You pause for a second and start to feel that same embarrassment from earlier. They're laughing... not with you, but...

"Dude, can't win em all!" Zak slaps you on your increasingly wider back and you turn to him- now at eye-level, "But like, brah, you've got this next one!"

"Y-y-you th-think so.... brah?" Your tongue feels heavy, the words feel sluggish. You notice your voice sounds deeper to your ears, "I..."

"You have to focus there, smartypants!" The host interrupts, "Two more questions. Are you ready?" You nod slowly, "In a deadlift, how high are you supposed to lift the barbell before lowering it?"

"Deadlift..." Your eyes light up suddenly, "Wait, bro! The D! That's what D stands for, brah!" You say excitedly.

The whole audience laughs, as does the host. You look at him, feeling a strange sense of confusion bubbling up. Why were they laughing? What was so funny?

"Good job there, but that was the last question. We've moved on, big guy."

"Oh..." You chuckle, a grin forming on your lips as you let out a deep, dumb laugh, "Huhuhuh that was pretty stupid of me." The audience and the host laugh even louder, and you find yourself joining in, "Alright, gotta lock in, gotta... brah what was the question?"

"Dead lifts..."

"Oh fuck yeah! I fuckin' love deadlifts."

The host grins, "Yes, exactly! So tell us, when doing a deadlift, how high do you lift the barbell before lowering it?"

"Yeah... uh..." You bite your lip, thinking hard. Your fingers drum against your swollen bicep as you try to concentrate and with a sigh, lift your hands behind your head, "Oh nice..."

Your eyes lock on to your bulging bis and tris and you're momentarily distracted. But the sharp tang of your own musk drifts up from your armpits, momentarily derailing your train of thought. Fuck, you smell good. Really fucking good. But since when did you...?

"Brah, c'mon you got this." Zak says, watching you closely.

You shake your head and run a hand through your perfectly gelled, styled hair, before pausing- fuck your aesthetic is probably cooked. You awkwardly pat at your hair.

"Worry about your hair later, you've got a question to answer." The host says.

"Fuck, sorry..." You let out an awkward chuckle, "Just gotta..."

Your body moves instinctively into the proper deadlift position—back straight, knees slightly bent, hips pushed back—as if you've done this 1000s of times before. As you demonstrate the form flawlessly, a new awareness floods your lower body. Your glutes feel… alive. Heavy. Round. Perfect. You grin as you squeeze them unconsciously, feeling the dense muscle fibers contract.

"The answer is hips, bro."

"Let's fuckin' go, brah!" Zak cheers and slaps you on the ass, sending a wave of intense pleasure reverberating through your meaty glutes.

As the crowd cheers, your eyes lock on Zak. The pleasure from him slapping your ass still making you shudder. You drink him in, fixated on the prominent bulge straining against his gym shorts.

"Fuck..." You mumble- he's packing serious heat there.

Your mouth waters involuntarily as fantasies flood your mind—Zak pinning you down, those huge hands squeezing your meaty ass while he drives his massive cock deep inside you. The image of you riding his thick cock sends shivers down your growing frame, and you imagine running your tongue over every inch of his sweat-slick skin. You lick your lips and grin at the thought.

When your eyes meet again, Zak doesn't look away. Instead, his smirk widens as he catches you staring, and the few brain cells he has recognize exactly what you’re thinking. He flexes for the audience, but he turns to give you a quick wink, letting you know all that flexing was just for you... because he wants you to know he wants you too. After all, you know there's not way he could resist you either. With your... bulging pecs? Massive arms? Thick glutes?

"Wait..." You mumble. You can feel the rusting gears in your increasingly empty head turn ever so slightly, drool dripping from the corner of your mouth.

Your head was spinning, brain trying to make sense of all of it.

Something’s off, right? Like... this ain’t how it used to be. You know that. You weren’t… this. But then... what were you then, dude? Cause, like, look at you. Seriously... just look. You’re absolutely shredded. I mean, c’mon, those arms? That chest? You don’t just wake up lookin’ this jacked without bein’… well, this guy. So how could you not be you if you straight-up look like you? Right?

A dumb chuckle escapes your lips as all that thinking overwhelms and shuts down whatever last remaining brain cells you have.

The host snaps his fingers in front of your face, breaking you out of your haze. "Earth to bro, we still got one question."

"Huh? Wha-" You blink slowly, your expression vacant and slack. Drool slips down your chin as you stare blankly ahead.

"Are you smarter than a himbo?" The host grins.

"Nawww, bro, 'course not!" You reply with a big, dumb grin spreading across your face, "Can't be smarter than a himbo cuz… I AM the fuckin' himbo, bro!"

The host laughs, shaking his head, "Well folks, I guess that settles it! Looks like we've got ourselves a new resident himbo to take Zak's place. Give it up for… COLT!"

The audience erupts into cheers and applause as you beam proudly, basking in the spotlight. You feel Zak sling a muscular arm around your broad shoulders, squeezing you close.

"Dude, so fuckin' glad you're joinin' the fam, bro!" Zak enthuses, his hand drifting lower to grope your ass possessively, "Trust me bro, you're gonna love it."

Zak's strong grip on your juicy ass makes you shudder and you can tell by that grin that he's thinking exactly what you're thinking.

The host clears his throat loudly, snapping you out of your lustful stupor. "Don't forget to wave to the crowd, champ!" He gestures encouragingly towards the audience.

With a dopey grin, you raise a hand in greeting, relishing the adoration pouring in from all sides.

"Thanks y'all, this is gonna be fuckin' sick!" You call out enthusiastically, grinning like an idiot.

And as Zak digs his fingers into your massive ass, you lick your lips hungrily. The only thought in your empty head was that once this show was over, you'd be giving him a private encore performance that neither of you would forget…

[dumbjockwannabehuh]

triple frat bro tf

Mason, Liam and Thomas were 3 college friends. They had all been friends since 3rd grade and been through a lot together. Now in college, they felt as if their life’s weren’t interesting. So to make it more interesting, they decided to do some stupid things here and there. Knock over a trash crash, spray water at random people, but it was all childish and wasn’t really what they wanted. They were all nerds and never even seen a frat party before. Nobody had ever invited them, even though there was a lot of frat bros at their campus. So they decided to go ahead and spy on one through the bushes. It wasn’t hard to know when one was happening, nor where. As the biggest frat group at their campus always had a set house and set dates. So at the next party they went into nearby bushes with binoculars and started spying.

They saw a bunch of the frat boys from their school, most of them not even wearing a shirt.

”dude I wish I could go around like that” Mason commented. “really? Those frat boys don’t even know what 1+1 is!” Thomas said.

“No! I mean just like in a buff nerd kinda way”

“whatever man”

“guys are those dudes smelling each others feet?” Liam pointed at one of the bedroom windows.

“eww all they do is drink and smell each others feet??” Mason made a disgusted face.

as they were talking with each other, they didn’t notice the frat boy going out back for something who noticed them. He quickly ran inside before any of the nerds could spot him. The nerds continued speaking, when they noticed 3 guys leave the front and walk away from the house. They all just moved on, thinking of it as them just leaving early for whatever reason. That was until they felt something get wrapped around their mouths, and the next second they were out.

When they woke up, all three of them found themselves shirtless and tied down to a bed with tape over their mouths. They noticed all the frat bros around them and tried screaming for somebody to help them. But with the tape, barely any noise came out. Then one of the frat bros walked over, “dudesss what were you like doing watching us… that’s like so dumb… your suppose to be like uhh nerds bros.” Mason tried speaking again, but the tape stopped any noise from reaching the frat boys ears. “I mean we should like… be thanking you dudes. We haven’t had any fun with nerds like you guys for like uhhh long time yeah?” The nerds were immediately scared by this and tried screaming again, when one of the frat bros put his foot on Liam’s head, forcing his head in place, “who wants to make him smell your feet dudes??” He shouted. One of the guys quickly walked up and put his foot in front of Liam’s nose. Then another dude put his foot on Thomas’s head, with another guy putting his foot in front of Thomas’s nose. And it then lastly ended with Mason. They tried not smelling the feet, but because they could only breathe from their nose they were forced to. As they breathed in the smell, they all became more drowsy and less resistant. Eventually they were all breathing in the feet, with almost no resistance at all. Then one of the frat bros shouted “BEER TIME!” and the guys put their feet off the nerds mouth and noses, before removing the tape. The nerds tried screaming now, but their resistance was to low, and they couldn’t do anything about it. Then the frat bros brought it beers and started making each nerd drink them. The nerds quickly panicked, they would never drink in their lives! But it was useless, all resistance was gone in their bodies, even if they still had some left in their mind. All the frat boys started screaming “CHUG CHUG CHUG!” Simultaneously, and the nerds did, even if they told their bodies not to. Quickly the nerds bodies grew, their feet turning massive, their chest expanding, and some abs started appearing to. They all looked in horror as this started happening, but they still couldn’t do anything about it. Eventually their legs and arms grow, and their faces changed. Still the “CHUG!” Chant was going, being almost painful in the nerds ears. That’s when the effects reached their brains, quickly their eyes glossed over and their intelligence started dropping. They felt this change start happening, but they couldn’t do anything to stop it. Their memories were then getting erased and replaced with memories of a frat boy. Eventually Brad, Tyler and Logan were all untied, in their jockstraps, and were screaming “CHUG!” And making people smell their feet in no time.

[dumbjockwannabehuh]

The delivery

Frank was a stereotypical nerd, loved reading, loved anime, had good grades and most of all: hated jocks. Little did he know, this would soon not describe him well…

Frank was lucky and had gotten a scholarship. Sadly, the college he ended up going to had a mild jock side to it. The college also loved the jocks and had always favored them. So he was a bit worried about being bullied or just having to deal with them overall existing. When Frank finally moved into his college dorm, he didn’t have time to unpack much and wanted to go to bed immediately, as it was late at night. Suddenly though, there was a knock at his dorm. Frank went over and opened the door, but found nobody, not down the hall, no where. When he looked down, he noticed a big box with a stick note on it. “Hope you like it bro!” Frank was, obviously, confused by this. So far he had barely met anyone that goes here, and also definitely had no friends and no way would he let someone call him bro. He still brought it in, looking for something to indicate it was for someone else. But instead he actually found his name scribbled on the box quickly it seemed. Frank decided it must’ve been some kind of last second gift from the college or something and opened it up. First thing he saw laying on top of something concealing the next item, like a shelf, was a simple cap. Though he never liked caps, he thought, might as well put it on to show thanks. Though once he put it on, he felt very uncomfortable but felt the odd need to turn it backwards. When he turned it backward, it suddenly slowly felt very comfortable and he actually really like it. He was a little surprised it felt like it was morphing onto his head, or was his head growing into it? Frank didn’t think to much about it, not noticing his growing arms and legs. He then revealed the next item in the container which was… a jockstrap!? Why would someone ever give him a jockstrap? He didn’t like them and knew people knew he was a nerd. So why did someone give him it? And why did whenever he thought about not wearing it, it felt like his thoughts were blocked off. Before he knew, he was stripping. He then carefully put in the jockstrap before realizing just what he did. Why did he do it? But it did feel so very good. So good in fact, Frank didn’t notice the ever growing body of his, muscles forming on every place of his body, his chin becoming so defined, abs forming… Thats when Frank felt the heat, the need, the horniness suddenly building up in him. He never jerked off much, so why would he suddenly feel the need to now? But by then, it was to late. He put his now very big hand, in his jockstrap, where his dick had filled in any empty space that was there before he put it on. He started jerking off very quickly, feeling the pleasure build inside him so very fast and so very much. Then Frank realized, why was he so big? Why did he have so much muscle? Why was he wearing a cap and jerking off in a jockstrap!? He would never do this! This isn't him! But it was to late, he came, his cum smearing and almost fusing with the jockstrap as his old life and intelligence drained into it, being replaced by the need for muscle, sports, his bros and to obey his coach by the cap.

the next day when he woke up, he quickly put on the “Team USA” shirt from the box, and even though he didn’t have his cap on, he couldn’t resist sending a photo to coach.

[dumbjockwannabehuh]

Jock tf

Jack was a real nerd, top of his class and everything. He went to a less sport focused college and focused on technology for his career. Because he was one of the biggest nerds on campus, he was an easy target for bullies. Luckily for Jack, his college had few bullies that were mostly jocks. He had still ended up friending one of the more soft hearted jocks, Brad, which lessened the bullying. Recently though, the jock population at his school had started to grow. Not only that, but the nerd population was getting smaller. Suddenly nerds would be here one day, and than the next they would be gone. The only thing left after they left was usually a message saying something along the lines of “emergency” or “moving colleges, too many jocks here.” And the school started to focus more on sports because it was gaining more attention. Jack didn’t like this and planned to ask Brad what was going on. The problem was that he couldn’t find a time to ask him. Brad, had been turning more into the other jocks lately, which Jack had worried about.

One fateful night, Jack would find out why the jock population was growing. While studying, Jack got a message from Brad, “Hey dude I fogot to mention but can you like go 2 my dorm and like housesit for me over the wekend? Thanks bro” with the code to his dorm attached. Earlier that day, Brad had been acting more nice to Jack, and Jack was hoping Brad had returned to his normal self. Not to be rude, Jack went ahead to Brad’s dorm, planning to study there. But he did wonder why Brad needed a house sitter, he never did that before when going away for a few days. Jack brushed it off and went into the dorm. The dorm has a strong musk smell to it, which irritated Jack. He went over and sat at the couch. Luckily Brad had kept the room clean, so Jack was happy. But that’s when he noticed that Brad left a closet open. Jack went over to close the door. Inside the closet, Jack noticed a ton of sports and gym gear, but he ignored it. That was until he noticed a jockstrap sitting at the bottom. It caught Jacks eyes, and he felt drawn to it. He tried resisting and went to close the closet door, but he couldn’t. His need to grab the jockstrap was increasing by the second. He didn’t even understand why he wanted to so bad, he didn’t even know what he would do after grabbing it. But he eventually gave in. He picked up the jockstrap and then immediately stripped naked. He put on the jockstrap without a second thought, it was a little big but it felt oddly comfortable and right. He then felt a need to put on the rest of the sports gear, which he did. Once he was done he felt so comfortable, right and horny. Jack didn’t even know why he felt this way and wanted to take everything off and forget this ever happened. But he instead went over and stood in front of the mirror. He then unconsciously started flexing and starting at himself. He felt more pleasure and felt even hornier as he looked at him self. Until he gave in, putting his hand inside the jockstrap and started jerking off. It felt so good and necessary. He hadn’t even done it much, and didn’t like it. But this was so amazing he couldn’t stop. He only kept getting faster and faster. He tried stopping himself, but his body had more control then his mind and continued. Then Jack cummed, filling the jockstrap with his semen. It felt so good, Jack didn’t even notice his cock, filling in the empty space of the jock strap. He didn’t notice his chest, legs, arms, expanding. Abs forming, becoming so defined. His face, becoming defined and dumb looking. When Jack finally noticed, it was to late. He tried stopping it, but he couldn’t take off his jockstrap, or any of the sports gear. He felt his intelligence start to drain out and get replaced by sports and muscle. His memory started getting replaced with memories of long gym sessions, sports, locker room, being with the bros. His mind slowly got replaced until it was just the kind of a dumb jock. Just as the transformation finished, Jason turned around to notice his best bro Brad walking through the door, he went over and greeted Brad, and got ready for a late gym session.

[wakeup01]

PINK!

Warning, the following story contains repeated use of the F slur, even tho it is often not used in a derogatory context. Read at your own discretion. This is an older story that failed to publish here before now. Enjoy!

It sounded too good to be true, a free haircut? When is anything really ‘free’? But that’s what it said on the voucher. It arrived in the post a few days ago, apparently adverting a new hairdresser opening in town, as if there weren’t already several dozen.

As a college student, I wasn’t one to pass up on free stuff, and well, my hair had grown pretty long. So today I had decided to check the place out, maybe they would be good enough to replace my old barber. Upon arriving, the most obvious thing was the pink. A lot of pink. Pink signage, pink exterior, and the name - ‘The Pink One’. Creative.

Someone definitely had a favourite colour and it wasn’t blue. I didn’t necessarily have an issue with the colour, but it did seem a bit gay. I really hoped no one I knew would see me enter, I quickly checked my surroundings before rushing through the front door into the reception room. Wait, do barbers usually have receptions? Granted, I’d never really been into any highbrow salons but this place looked way above my pay grade. Lucky I’m not paying this time huh? Inside is, unsurprisingly, more pink.

There were several chairs in what looked like a waiting area and a main desk with a bored looking woman, idly swiping at a phone. The chairs were all empty, I guess business wasn’t exactly booming just yet; no wonder they’re giving out free cuts. I walk up to the desk and notice a little sign saying ‘we’re hiring, no qualifications required’ in pink bubble text. No qualifications? That makes me somewhat nervous, my hair isn’t gonna be cut by some intern, is it?

I stare at the receptionist as she does her best to pretend I don’t exist. She turns away and sighs at her phone.

“No, swipe left.” She groans, spinning her chair in place.

“Excuse me?” I attempt to interrupt.

“Ugh can’t you see I’m busy?” She says incredulously. Again turning away from me.

“Well… no. I have a voucher for a free haircut?” I say, unsure of myself.

Immediately she stops, freezing in place. She slowly turns back around to face me.

“Thank god, I mean… why didn’t you say? That doesn’t matter now! Where was I… yes. If you would just like to take a seat and wait your turn.” She hurriedly yells, as if the building was on fire. Her whole demeanour changing at the flip of a coin.

“Um… there’s no one else here though.” I point out, turning to face the empty chairs.

“Hahaha. Aren’t you a smart one! I like you! SIT. DOWN.” She yells before immediately whispering, menacingly.

I quickly turn and take a seat, looking over my shoulder as she flashes a nervous smile in my direction. Damn - I’m not sure this is worth it for a haircut. What a screw loose. I wait several minutes before the receptionist calls across the room at me.

“Room two! Toni will see you now!”

Toni? At least the hairdresser will be a girl. With any luck, one a little less obnoxious. I stand and walk to a door on the left with a ‘2’ nailed to it. And yes, the door is pink.

Okay, so Toni is actually a guy. I do a bad job at hiding my disappointment when they welcome me.

“Oh…”

“Hey there, I’m Toni.” They offer their hand in greeting. I reluctantly shake it.

“I’m Jacob.” I state plainly, pulling my hand away to take a good look at the ‘man’.

Toni is, how do I put it? Slightly effeminate. They have peach pink hair in a undercut, one half is completely shaven with the other hanging over his face. He has a crop top that reveals a piercing in his belly button and his eyes are clearly accentuated by black eyeshadow. Right, so he’s probably gay. Don’t say anything stupid, I tell myself.

“Gay, right?” Shit.

“Yep.”

My curiosity is sated at least. Toni turns the chair towards me and I climb on without a word. He places a cloth over me before facing the chair towards a wall mirror. My hair is like a birds nest, I could definitely play a mad scientist in a shitty tv drama.

“Been saving up for me or something sweetie?” Toni teases, winking at me in the mirror. I try and hold back a wince.

“What are we doing with THIS.” He shakes my dark brown hair playfully, making it fall over my eyes.

“Ahem, I guess a tidy up all over. Not too drastic though.” I particularly emphasise that last part. I don’t want to have to explain some f@ggy cut to my friends.

“That goes without saying. Leave it to me. Sir.” I don’t like how he said ‘sir’ sarcastically like that.

I feel my hands shake, for whatever reason haircuts always make me anxious. Something about giving someone else control over my body freaks me out. Toni rummages across the counter in front of me and picks up a spray can. He turns, and without warning sprays the can all over my head, it smells like sweet strawberries. A puff goes straight into my face and eyes. I flinch them shut, the stinging causing them to start watering.

“Fuck man!” I yell in pain.

“Whoops, should of told you to close your eyes. They’re closed now at least!” Toni chuckles. I’m not exactly amused.

He wastes no time and takes a trimmer to my overgrown hair. I squint through bleary eyes, my head dizzy. All of a sudden I feel groggy, all my thoughts seem to dissipate. All except one thing.

PINK

I have no idea why, but my brain seemed fixed on that one word. That one concept. That one way of life…. Huh. My mind is shaken back awake as Toni roughly pushes my head down.

“Huh?”

“I said head down. You were spacing out like a ditz.” Toni answers, his hand placed firmly on his hip.

My cheeks blush a bright shade of PINK, embarrassed by the fact I lost my train of thought. I manage to open my eyes clearly now, noting how my hair already looks a lot shorter. Toni starts up the trimmer again, the pleasant hum buzzing next to my ear as hair falls from my head in clumps.

“So, are you a bottom or top?” He asks, nonchalantly.

“What? Uh, I’m not gay thanks.” I reply bluntly.

“Really? Then why did you ask if I was?” Toni pauses, looking confused.

“It’s kinda obvious you’re a gay bottom dude.” My eyes are sore and pink from the spray, but it doesn’t stop me from rolling them as I watch myself in the mirror.

“Who says I’m a bottom?” Toni sharply pulls my head to the side.

“You’re a top?! I hate to see what the bottom looks like.”

Toni pushes the trimmer behind my ears. The buzzing intensifies, a steady thrum making me relax back into the seat. Its sound seems to become ingrained in my head. I hear Toni saying something to me in the background but I feel myself zoning out; the world around me fades, until there is nothing but the room, me and Toni.

He takes the spray can to my head again, the wonderful scent of strawberries wafts into my nose.

I see myself staring dimly into the mirror, my hair becoming shorter and shorter, the sides now being buzzed into a fade. I can’t seem to muster the energy to care right now, even though a voice in the back of my mind is telling me to say something. A bigger part of me is wondering how my hair would look if it was

PINK

A little groan escapes my lips. My dick chubs up in my jeans, a drop of pre forming against my underwear. I absentmindedly grope at my crotch, a sense of bliss overcoming me.

“We’re getting there! What do you think about a french crop?” Toni smiles and places a firm hand upon my shoulder.

My mouth opens to respond but I’m finding it hard to find the right words. I do know I need to object somehow.

“Too f@ggy.” I slur.

“And? Don’t worry hun, it’ll look great on you. You trust me, don’t you Jacob?” His smile is captivating.

“Trust you.” It’s easier to just go along with it. He is a professional after all. So what if he’s a bit ‘fruity’.

“Good boy.” He whispers.

The praise sends a shiver down my spine. My hand automatically begins rubbing at my tented groin. I should feel so embarrassed, feeling myself up in a public situation like this. But I can’t seem to stop, it just feels right. Toni continues to style my hair, combing the front forward and trimming it to just above my eyes. Maybe it was just the lighting, but my hair colour looked a shade lighter.

I hear the familiar sound of the spray, the room gains a thick PINK haze from the particles swirling around me.

“You know what this product is called?” Toni absently asks.

“PINK.” We both say in unison.

I take a deep sniff of the air, the smell acting like an aphrodisiac. My thoughts become fuzzy again. There’s a strange sensation coming from my rear, I squirm in the seat as I feel my butt clench. My body is lifted up higher as my butt cheeks push out behind me.

“Mhmmm.” My voice whines, seemingly several octaves higher.

I furiously pull at my crotch, my tented dick feels less pronounced. It’s no longer giving me the same level of satisfaction, instead a dull itch pulses from my asshole.

“The fuck’s happening…to…me.” I say between breathy pants.

“Oh that, you’re just becoming a bottom sweetie.” Toni states matter-of-factly, tilting my head while he fades the back of my head.

My brain is operating in slow motion, his words reach my ears but I’m instead fixated by my hair, or what’s left of it. The sides have an extreme skin fade and the strands on front hang seductively over my eyebrows. But the most worrying sight is the colour, now a dusty light brown. I’m starting to look like a…

“Not a f@g”. I blurt out, my mind racing to catch up.

“No? You certainly sound like a bitch in heat. And that’s just the start hunny, just let it work it’s magic. Soon enough you’re be drooling at the thought of being a ‘f@g’.”

“No…” I unconvincingly protest. My voice cracking.

Toni smiles that dreamy smile again, and pulls in dangerously close to whisper in my ear.

“In fact, once we’re done, I’m gonna push you over this counter, and impale you with my juicy pole as you watch the spark of intelligence fade from your eyes in the mirror. At which point you’ll be begging to taste my cum like a cheap slut. Doesn’t that sound perfect, hmm?”

“Fu…frick.” My voice now decidedly effeminate.

None of that can be true, can it? That’s not me, I like girls. At the same time, the idea of letting him use me however he liked made my head soar to cloud 9. My mouth pulls into a sloppy grin.

“Tell me, what’s your favourite colour. Is it…?”

“PINK.” My mouth moves without thinking.

“Good boy. Just keep repeating that word in your head Jakie.”

Jakie? But wasn’t my name PINK. No…something was wrong with PINK. PINK. I couldn’t stop seeing PINK everywhere I looked. PINK walls, PINK tank top, PINK…hair.

My hair was pink. Bright strawberry pink. A quiet giggle slipped from my mouth.

“You look adorable, how do you like your new hair?”

I loved it.

Why wouldn’t I? PINK was my favourite colour. Besides, it wasn’t gay to like pink. And it definitely wasn’t gay to have a pretty hairstyle with your initials shaved into the side. It was totes cute.

“It’s um… nice.” I reply, sheepishly.

“It suits you. We just gotta make some finishing touches, on the house, then you’ll be ready. Eyes closed Jakie.” Toni holds the spray can up to my face.

I clinch my eyes shut. After a minute Toni instructs me to open them again. I blink several times, awestruck by my face in the mirror. It’s me, but at the same time it’s not. My nose had shrunk down to a cute button, my pasty skin now a expertly even tan. My eyes gleaming a bright unnatural blue, while my lips were deep PINK and awkwardly fuller, like I’d been stung by a bee. But most of all, there wasn’t a single blemish, my features perfectly symmetrical in every way.

“Heehee. I look soo good bestie.” My choice of words feeling slightly off in the moment, before I immediately shrug it off. So what If I giggle a bit, it doesn’t make me any less of a man.

Toni throws off the cloth covering my body and gestures for me to stand up. I get to my feet and wobble on the spot, my weight distribution felt wrong. I balance my footing and blush - my butt straining within the confines of my once loose jeans. I take a step forward and feel my bubbly cheeks jiggle behind me.

“G…go…gosh.” I stammer, looking behind my shoulder.

“Aww. You’ll get used to them.” he gives them a light slap and I hear them clap together.

Ugh. It’s time to go, I think. Before anything else happens. I feel…odd, like waking from a vivid dream. I’m thankful at least that I didn’t cum in my pants, it would of been hard to live that down - especially in the presence of a gay guy.

I turn to leave through the door but Toni stops me, pushing a PINK lollipop into my hand.

“Suck!” He instructs.

I ponder the object for a brief moment, before bringing the shiny ball to my mouth. I give it a little lick, and am rewarded by a sweet strawberry taste. I swivel my tongue around its length, savouring the flavour. Before long I’m slurping at the candy like my life depended upon it.

“You seem in your element there.” Toni beams at me, and I smile back.

For the first time I notice the prominent bulge in his tight shorts. I catch myself staring and immediately pull my eyes back up to his face. Now I really need to leave. I reach out to the door handle and…

“Aren’t you forgetting something cutie? I don’t get a tip? You’re such a clutz, Jakie.”

“Oh heck. Sorry.” I apologise, letting go of the door and letting my hand hang limply.

How could I have forgotten, sure the haircut was free but I still had to tip, especially after the brilliant job he did. The problem was, I didn’t bring any money, not even my wallet.

“Um, well…see. The thing is, I have nothing on me.” I stare down at my feet.

Toni places his soft hand under my chin and lifts it to face him. His other hand is resting at the hem of his shorts. He pulls at it slightly, revealing a bit more of his hips. The subtle outline of his tight abs catches my attention.

“That’s okay, I had something else in mind.”

He pulls his shorts further until they drop to his feet, behind them was a bright fluorescent PINK jockstrap. I don’t know why I’m not running at this point, in fact I can’t even tear my eyes away from his crotch. One of my biggest fears is coming true and I’m just standing here like an dummy.

Toni reaches his hand into his jock and pulls free a 7 inch cock. I instinctively gulp.

“How about it, my little dump truck?” He pulls at his foreskin and then looks me straight in the eye.

“I uh… I don’t know. Not really into guys.” My words barely audible as the lolly sticks out of my mouth.

“That doesn’t matter silly, you don’t have to be.”

Is that true? Isn’t it gay to let some dude frick you? I guess not if you don’t cum. It’s like helping out a friend, and he is my bestie. But more importantly, I owe him a big tip. I roll the tasty lollipop from left to right, my hands slightly shaky.

“‘Kay then. How do I…”

“Take those dull clothes off.”

Bleh, Toni can be pretty intimidating when he wants to be. But I do as he says anyway, removing my top and jeans, and then, finally my boxers. I look down, my dick a now meagre 3 inches hard; seeming rather poultry in light of his 7 incher. I seem to remember being bigger down here, but it’s hard to recall exactly.

“Cute nub. But let’s see what you’re packing back there Jakie boy.” Toni spins his hand in the air, indicating that he wants me to turn around.

I slowly face away from him, finding myself looking back into the mirror. My body is a girls dream, completely smooth with a tiny waist and wide hips. Where are my muscles? I look like a, like a…mhmm I get the sudden urge to feel my backside, and I reach my hands behind me. Ugh, my buttocks are ginormous, it’s like a half of my mass has moved back there. And I seem to be leaking, a moist viscous substance dripping from between my two basketball sized cheeks.

“Self lubricanting too, nice. You’re a keeper babe.” His remark felt more deriding than complimentary.

I pull my hand away, now sticky with the fluid from my ass. I give my fingers a whiff. Ah. Peaches. Sweet, PINK peaches. I’m lost in a daze. Toni’s hands begin to fondle my sensitive butt, every touch makes my nub ache. Satisfied, he pushes hard on my back. I bend forward, leaning against the counter in front of me - my legs move apart to balance my new rear heavy body.

“Mhmmm.”

He slaps his member against my back and grinds it down between my cheeks. I feel the tip of his cock push against my virgin hole. It dawns on me - it’s too late to back out now. In one swift motion Toni thrusts all the way into me.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” Toni grunts over me.

“T…tight” I echo back. I see myself panting heavily in the reflection. I spit out the PINK lolly, a strand of drool falls from my mouth.

‘Not gay, not gay’ I repeatedly tell myself. My body rocking back and forth as Toni begins taking me in earnest. I just have to make sure I don’t cum, no matter what.

“I told you this would happen, you’re a natural born slut, mhm. You can’t deny what your body wants fuckmuffin.”

“Wha…” I’m so confused.

My insides are pulled along the length of his shaft and then back again. Then again, and again. I felt like a fleshlight. Before long I sense myself pushing back against him, so that his cock can reach deeper into my hole, stretching me out fully. I never imagined dick could feel so good. My face in the mirror is one of complete lust, the sight sends a sudden jolt of fear to my head. If this keeps up I’m not sure if I’ll be able to hold back.

“Hmf…You’re gonna make an adorable PINK boi mmf… a coworker with benefits.”

What is he talking about, coworkers? I just came for a haircut, didn’t I? I’m not planning to work here. Besides, I don’t know the first thing about cutting people’s hair. Those benefits do sound pretty temping though. My butt is just begging to be pounded on the daily, as long as I don’t cum, it’s fine.

“Jakie, you’ll look so cute in a lil’ PINK thong and crop top.”

Yas, I would be cute. Being a PINK boi does actually sound adorbs. We’d like, have matching outfits! Hehe. Maybe I could even get a heart tattoo on my lower back.

“That’d be like, sooo fun bestie!” The sound of my own voice makes me cringe.

I’m talking like a stereotypical gay twink and I’m definitely not, I have some dignity. I need to pull myself together and act like a man. That’d probably be much easier without a cock lodged up my ass. I feel Toni speed up, maybe just to spite me. His hefty ballsack slaping against me in quick succession. My rock hard nub bounces under the counter, my tight balls churn. Frick, I don’t think I can take much more.

“Ah…It’s about time you let get go of that pathetic masculinity. What are you, hon?

“I…I…” Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

“I’m thuch a f@g!” I enthusiastically admit.

My little nub spurts a wad of cum across the wall, and with it go my inhibitions, my shame and my modesty. A little voice in my head yells out about something boring before quickly being drowned out by the image of my big booty stuffed into a pair of PINK shorts. Heehee. I’ve been utterly emasculated and I love it. In the mirror I have a huge dopey grin. Toni was like, such a good top. Gawd.

“Fuck, that’s hot babe! You’re almost perfect for the job.” Toni starts to slow down.

His 7 inch cock leaves my boi pussy and an emptiness sets in. It doesn’t last long as he spins me around and pushes me down to the floor. His dick slaps across my face. It’s dripping heavily with my own juices and his cum. The smell alone has me salivating. I can’t wait anymore and attempt to lunge at it but he pulls away.

“You gonna swallow every drop?” Toni raises his eyebrow and looks down at me. Did he get taller?

“Yes sir.” I whine.

In a smooth motion his cock passes through my pouty lips and pushes all the way to the back of my throat. I momentarily chock on its girth, but after a few thrusts I start working it like a pro.

‘How’s your own pussy taste?”

It was incredible! Like peaches and cream, an elixir of his cum mixed with my wet hole. Yum. I couldn’t get enough. I try and answer him but the words are muffled by my face full of cock.

“Yeah, let’s get you nice and dumb.” He grips my hair tightly and shoves my head into his smooth crotch.

“Ot…umb.” I try and tell him.

“No? Oh sweetie, once you swallow my cum, you won’t just be dumb, you’ll be basic. Not just gay, but capital G ‘Gay’. Happily submitting to anyone with a real dick. And our customers will be happy to oblige, before they too join you in blissful ignorance.”

Huh! No. Being gay was great, but I still wanted to have my wits. Not be some empty-headed slut, shaking my butt at complete strangers.

“Just imagine. You’ve finished on a clients hair, the colour now identical to yours. Well, they need to tip you somehow?” He puts on an exaggerated voice, as if talking to a child.

“Mfhmm.”

“Exactly! So you giggle, drop you shorts and push your bubble butt into their face. Don’t forget your pretty PINK thong, framing your rear like a thick cake. Then what do you say?”

“Hnnff!” I want to stop but the taste in my mouth is nothing short of addicting. If he could at least cease his talking…

“Close! You’d say, in that cute lisp: ‘Daddy, please eat my ass’.”

I try and desperately think of a way to end this. But each time his tip reaches the back of my throat it pushes away all my thoughts, like his cock is taking up all the space inside my skull. I go crosseyed as he rams my mouth like a bull. He was literally fucking my brain to mush.

“And you’ll be eaten out again and again, each time they’ll deposit their creamy load into your waiting mouth. So…you finally ready airhead?”

Please…

Toni humps three more times in quick succession before a geyser of his cum erupts in my mouth. On autopilot I swallow great gulps as the thick, full flavoured liquid flows down my throat. I drink every drop as he continues to unload his heavy balls. My tummy begins to bloat from the sheer volume of his strawberry milkshake.

With the release from his cock, I feel a release of my own, except mine seemed to be coming from up top. An abnormal amount of drool was leaking from my mouth, coinciding with my intellect draining from my brain. I attempt to stop the thick drool from gathering, to no avail, as my smarts literally drip from my mouth and soak into the pink carpet on the floor. After a few seconds I’m sat there with a completely empty look.

“Ahh.” I moan.

Uh, Wasn’t something bad supposed to happen? I didn’t feel very different. Like sure, my head was totes empty. And? It felt like, soooo gud. I really wanted to tug at my nub.

“Mmm.”

Can you say ignoramus, honey?‘ Toni pulls his cock free from my face.

“Um Ig…iglo…iglo-mo-must?” I try and sound out the word. It hurts my head. Whatever.

“Good toy. You’re hired.” His cock bobs up and down in front of me.

That’s nice. But I’m more interested in something else as I stick my tongue out and lick his pole clean. I can’t let any of it go to waste. Working under Toni sounds like a lot of fun, and I won’t have to worry about thinking too much; It’s basically perfect for me. And all the PINK!

“Mm, you’re good at that Jakie. But let’s get you dressed into something more your style. And then you can report to the receptionist for your training. You’ll be ready to serve by tomorrow.” Toni ruffles my hair and pulls me to my feet.

“Serve…” I bite my lip.

I make sure to get a good look at myself in the mirror. Like OMG, I’m stunning. Looking like a posable Ken doll. My tiny nub is the cutest thing, I can’t wait to see it be barely noticeable in a tight PINK thong. Wearing a cage at this point would be purely decorative. My eyes maybe seem a little dull now, revealing how little is going on behind them, but guys love that! They want a brainless boy toy, and that’s exactly what I give them.

It’s like I’ve been molded into the ideal twink: vapid, vain and without an original thought in my hollow little head. Before, I had a personality, ambitions and ideals. Now, I was totally basic, unremarkable and indistinguishable from a thousand other empty slutty bottoms. My whole identity replaced with sex, just another hole waiting to be filled.

Being unique is like, hard work - having to worry about what to say, how to dress and where to fit in; why bother when I can be ‘gay’ and let that label completely define me. Being cute and wearing PINK to match my bubble gum brain while others tell me what to do. Some may take being called dumb as an insult, but I take great pride in it! Smart people spend their whole life working to get ahead, all I need to do is drop my pants and bend over. Heeheehee.

“Jakie! Stop spacing out like a Himbo and bring that butt over here! Take these.”

I walk up to him and he hands me a pile of dull looking clothes; a pair of black jeans and a plain top. Bleh, how ugly. I bundle them up and toss them in a bin in the corner. Toni is now holding up my new uniform. I take the thong and pull it up between my legs, the thin piece of fabric rides up between my cheeks and presses against my sensitive hole. A little indentation is visible where my tiny cock pokes out in front.

I ‘cover’ myself up with a pair of tight booty shorts, they don’t leave much to the imagination; the fabric bunches up behind me. Finally I put on the florescent PINK crop top, it hangs off my tiny frame leaving my belly button exposed. On the front it says ‘PINK BOI’, and on the back is an arrow pointing down and the words ‘Open For Business’.

__________________________

You find yourself somewhere you never expected to be - a wall to wall pink room. It was definitely challenging your sense of masculinity. But hey, you got one of these ‘free haircut’ vouchers and if the only cost is being subjected to a gay as fuck waiting room, it’s worth it. Although the receptionist had certainly put a dampener on the whole deal. You hear her shout across the room.

“You’re in number one, they will see you now!” Her voice several decibels louder than necessary, considering the relative distance.

You stand up and walk towards the door. Quickly you move to the side as the previous customer brushes past you. A glazed look is plastered across their face and they almost walk straight into you.

Your hand wraps around the door knob and you look back and give them a sideways glare. You shove the door open and are greeted by the widest of smiles.

“Oh hai, I’m Jakie!” I greet you, shooting you a seductive wink.

[merryy3dbhsjsk]

Frat v.s. PTA

The mid-morning sun blazed over the Springfield college campus on a Sunday morning. Just off the main road, on a winding side street stood the well worn home of the Omega X Phi boys. A towering construction with multiple towers hanging on a wraparound porch. Three stories tall, whitewashed wood covering every wall. Multiple 20 something men were passed out on the front lawn from last night's rager.

A sharp knocking sound rang as a hand rapped the brass Greek letter knocker. The sound grew louder and more incessant when no one came to the door. Finally a hunky freshman by the name of Terence roused himself from his spot on the foyer. He stumbled upstairs, opening and closing the doors till he found the fraternity president. Johnathan or JB was sound asleep, sandwiched between a busty blonde girl and a bodybuilder type guy. Terence shook him awake.

“Yo, like, someone’s at the door. Think it’s some kinda narcs, bro.”

JB blinked awake, trying to calm his jittery brother. “Hey it’s fine, let’s go see what this about.”

He carefully climbed out of bed and gestured for Terence to follow him. As they climbed down the stairs JB kicked two other frat members awake. Chad and Kip, both recent additions to Omega X Phi. They opened the door, squinting in the bright light that helped their hangovers very little. 

Standing on the chipped wood of the porch, from left to right stood a varied and disgruntled group. First was the young athletic coach of the girls sports team, none of the hungover males could recall what sport. But who really cared about women’s sports anyway?  Besides her looking like the total opposite of the coach was a middle aged southern woman. Her hair clearly dyed to keep away the gray and her yellow blouse cut perfectly to her figure. Three more people stood huddled together, two willowly young men, a little too young to be on a college campus. They had both been dragged by the older girl in front of them, she was clearly in charge of them by the way they looked at her, a mixture of fear and respect. She had a fierce expression on her face, at odds with her nerd girl outfit. The skinny dude on the end looked very uncomfortable to be around the others. He didn’t seem to have such an obvious dislike of the frat. All of them had come, however for the same reason, the rumors of the frat's “unorthodox” approach to recruiting, especially after it had been linked to several missing people. 

Now let me clear something up: Omega X Phi had a long slightly magical history. Since the founding in the late 80s the frat had been linked to numerous missing persons cases. But those people were never harmed, all of them turned out happier in the end. Not that anyone ever figured out the truth, to be a member was to be sworn to secrecy but to be given powers beyond comprehension. Not very creative thinkers, they just used these abilities to create more frat brothers. JB, the newest president had immediately hit the ground running, but it seemed the frats' activities hadn’t been as discreet as he would have liked. 

“Yo can I help you guys,” JB said as jovially as he could through his hangover. 

“Help! Help! You turned half of my team into guys, I barely have enough left to field a team!” Yelled the coach.

The mom next to her broke in “And my daughter was the captain, set to be on the national team. Now he’s chugging effing beers all night.”

“Ugh, who cares about dumb sports,” broke in the nerd girl. “I just want my genius boyfriend back.” 

She kicked the boys next to her in the shins till they squeaked out similar sentiments. “Yeah, give us back our big bro.” “Give him back, give him back” 

The guy on the left shuffled his feet, “I’m not with them, I just want… um, ya know.”

JB looked at the guys around him, his gaze loaded with words only his fellow bros understood. And simultaneously the bros picked a target and lunched forward, way too fast for a hangover.

“God, I’m way too drunk for this!”

JB grabbed a football off of one of the sagging chairs and tossed it to the coach. She caught it with one hand. 

“What the hell is this!” She snapped annoyed

But suddenly a surge of energy shot up her arm, her veins thickening. Muscles becoming massive and dense, and her frame broadening. Her height shot up, legs becoming long and thick, covered in a scattering of light hair. Her skin darkened and became a dark tan, as if she was outside daily. 

“W-what’s happe-ning tooo me,” she yelled through clenched teeth. Her voice deeper as her neck grew a sizable Adam’s Apple.

Her body continued to grow as she desperately tried to stop the changes. Her breast pushed back into her chest, leaving a smooth hard pectoral shelf. A small treasure trail grows on top of her already defined abs. Her hair began to ripple, sifting into a short spiked style. Her face broadened, becoming something distinctly male. She felt a strange feeling in her pants, reaching a hand unconsciously in. She freaked out upon feeling a small still-growing male prostrate. 

“What- is this a…?” She trailed off

“A dick, yep,” JB chuckled. “Every football star needs one, how else are you supposed to fuck the cheerleaders.” 

“Football star?” She now sputtered as his changing hormones fueled a growing hornyness. 

He couldn’t help but touch his new dick as it grew erect, filling him with an unfamiliar pleasure. His school branded polo vanished as his shorts reformed into an old pair of blue sweatpants, long enough to benefit her new size. His feet grow to massive proportions, breaking free of his tennis shoes. 

A sharp pain rang through his head, as if a dozen hangovers had all hit at once. The pain so great he wasn’t aware as his mind was rewritten. Memories of growing up in a home of girls, advocating for female representation, and getting her dream coaching position replaced with flashes of growing up with a single dad who taught him how to throw his first football, playing varsity all through high school, and being accepted as the starting quarterback for Springfield College. His hormones changed as new desires coursed through his brain, the urge to run off the last nights partying, the scattered feeling of screwing the guy cheerleaders in the locker room. 

JB looked to his right to see Chad in a huge argument with his mother. 

“I’m a dude, mom. This is what I want, why can’t you just fucking accept that!”

“No, sweetie. They changed you, this isn’t what you want, you loved being a girl. Don’t you remember…” she said, her voice raising in high pitched panic. 

“No, I remember you dragging me along on shopping trips I didn’t want to go on, I remember you forcing me into sports. I don’t care what you think, this is what I want to be.”

Chad finished his winded speech with finality refusing to listen to the rest of his moms desperate pleas. 

“You’ll get it soon, ma,” He muttered.

Suddenly she stopped ranting and fell silent as she felt  a strange bout of nausea. And she too began to change.

Her transformation was quite different from the coach’s. She didn’t regress down at all, in fact she stayed the same middle age. Yet she seemed to become older due to her desperate attempts at staying young reversing. That couldn’t have been more clear as wrinkles began to come into existence on her face. Making her look older and more distinguished. Her hair began to darken, not graying dispite her age just turning her original brown. Her delicate manicured hands not escaping the change, they thickened into massive meaty mits. Years of labor making them broad and tough, her pink nails cracking off revealing bitten down nails at the end of stubby fingers. 

Her thin body began to grow at a rapid rate, her while body becoming enlarged with a both fat and dormant muscle. Her arms, legs, chest, and back growing to fit a lengthening bone structure. She could feel the change in strangth in her body, she rarely worked out and so the new found muscle was disorienting. She could feel the power with each muscle that grew, as she began to wobble with unfamiliar height.

Finally looking her middle age and feeling more comfortable in her skin then she had for years. Her body had become nearly double the size, packing on even more as time went on. Breasts already traded for hard earned chest muscles. Thighs touching from the thickness of both muscle and fat. His ass now far more soild, but still the same large size she had prided herself on. 

“Son.. stop this. Ugh.” She ground out, not even noticing the causal change of pronoun reference.

Chad just watched the transformation continue. A thick layer of body hair began to sprout in every visible place, which was quite a lot as her body had outgrown her former clothing. It spread down her legs and over her forearms. Coating her ass and rippled  abdomen. But her chest had the densest forest of manly fur growing out of it. As it happened her fomor nips become smaller and smaller, growing ever so slightly erect. Meanwhile the perfectly styled hair she’d kept since high school began receded all the way back into a tight crew cut followed by her nonexistent faical hairmbecoming a sparse mature beard. 

Finally the headache subsided, bringing forth the mental shift. The changes flooded her mind just as it had with the former coach and everything unnecessary vanished from existence. Detaching her from her former life completely before installing new wants, needs and goals into her brain. Forcing him to think like a man and think of herself as a man. As this new thought popped into his mind, a thick girthy manhood grew under a newly formed jockstarp. His brain forged newfound obsessions with drinking and american football that he couldn’t wait to indulge in. Filling his memory bank with endless amounts of dad jokes. Implanting an irresistible urge to work out enough to keep him thick and hot. And of course we can’t forget an insatiable desire for sex.

Chadwick sir blinked groggily, Chad grinned up at his dad.

“Told ya not to drink that much, you just can’t keep up with us young blood anymore.”

Terence on the other hand was being barraded by his former girlfriend and brothers.

“Baby, this isn’t you, please come back.” She begged through tears, the brothers echoed her sentiments.

“Just be smart again, big bro.”

“Yeah, we miss our bro.”

Terence rubbed his hands through his messy brown curls. “Look, I don’t need a girlfriend anymore, ya know. And you bros are always welcome in my life, you know that.”

“No!!! You will not fag out on ME!” Terence’s ex screamed, making him lose any sense of regret for what he had to do. His brothers saw the change in his face and tried to shut her up to no anvil. 

They all felt a sudden drop in their stomachs and smelled something gross. It smelled like a mixture of old socks and moldy cheese. They wrinkled their noses as the stink invaded their minds. They recoiled but couldn’t help but sniff more, as if to discover the source of such a disgusting smell.

The transformation hit them like a lightning. First all of their bodies shot up, becoming the indentical height of exactly 6”. Next thing they felt was their chest shifting, her breasts vanished in favor of wide man nipples. Hard pectorals began to develop and punched their way unto place on chests. Beneath their clothing soild sets of washboard abs formed out of fat layers. Under said abs, the girls transformation took on a slightly different form then the boys, as her vingia reformed into a average sized disk weighed down by usually large testicles. 

Their legs also began to change, making them steadier in thier changing bodies. One of the boys made a slight gasping noise as his quads began to tense into solid muscle, perfect for the running they’d be doing every day. As soon as their thighs were done blowing up, their calves followed. Expanding with solid muscle on top of more muscle. She felt her butt flatten slightly to match the other two’s smaller asses. Their arm’s transformation mirrored the rest of their bodies. Years worth of muscle work pumped into thier arms, their biceps and triceps expanding to melon like proportions. Their hands expanding to become a natural size for gripping a beer or dabbing up. 

Once their hands had reached full size their feet’s changes kicked into high gear.  They could feel them expanding, toes becoming little meaty sausages, until their shoes collapsed form the pressure. Revealing massive stompers, thick with vain and muscle. 

“Ya know, maybe it’d be, like, cool to join the frat.” One of Terence’s brothers remarked. 

The others two tried to speak but couldn’t through the thickness in their expanding throut. All of them moaning deeply and sniffing desperately at this point, trying to inhale as much of that glorious stink as possible. By the time their necks reach maximum thickness they sounded like the deep tones of masculine jocks. Till this point thier transformations had been almost identical, now’s as the changes spread to their necks they began to diverge in appearance. 

The girlfriend’s head began to stretch longer and thicker. Her hair began to turn blond, her tight bun just vanishing completely. Her remaining hair fluffing out the sides and growing out on top. As soon as it stopped growing, a hat plopped unto her head. One of the boys felt his cheekbones move up and his chin pushing down, causing his cheeks to suck themselves in. The remaining brother’s nose shrank a slightly and both of thier lips grew a little wider. Both of the boys kept their hair colors of blonde and brown respectively, but it was now styled in a more jockish style. All of thier eyes took on a dull glare, making thier resemblance to Terence even more apparent.

Their sniffing become even more intense as the origins of the smell slowly became apparent. They began to feel slightly itchy, looking down they realized a faint dusting of hair was coming in across their body. Heavily covering everything, arms, legs, chest, even in thier butts. The thickest places was the dense bushes on their gargantuan feet and the dense forest of armpit hair. Once the hair had stopped growing thier bodies began to produce the powerful musk. The small but mighty scatterings of body hair were currently stink factories working overtime. 

Terence laughed as he watched the now three boys desperately huffed each other. Tearing of each others clothing that reformed as quickly as it went. Their pants becomibg shirts in varying colors, black, green, and white. One gained a worn gray t-shirt, the fomor girl a sleeveless hoddie, giving the last, adorned in a mesh jersey, full access to his musky pits. Worn sneakers grow over thier massive feet and two gained a pair of sunglasses that made them look like the dochebags they had become. 

The more they greedily laped up each other scent, the more thier minds began to dull. Blankness becaming their default mood, Memories of family and high school began to disappear and respawn as memories of tons of friends, girlfriends, and secret relationships with other bros all perfect copies of each other. The fomor girlfriend’s memories of late night studying were now replaced with drunken homecoming bashes and late night bangs identical to his new brothers. All thier intellectual thoughts and ideas began to flow out of them, becoming a physical thing in the form of hypnotic musk. 4.0’s slowly became B’s, which dragged into C’s, and in turn dragged into barely even graduating. They remembered that dispite thier academic difficulties they where eagerly accepted on lacrosse scholarship. Making them able to enter collage at the same time as their big bro. Dispite the year difference, Terence had gotten held back twice and the triplets only once. 

The slim guy watched all this happen with excitement, and trembled with anticipation when Kip approached him, the gentle giant seaside nothing, instead raising his fist for the man to bump. 

Once there first touched, an explosion of color flooded the man’s vision. His body spasmed as his frame shot up to the sky, broad shoulders and long legs making him a massive 6,3”. muscle flooded into his new body. Rippling muscle twisted on his arms, in which plump vains swelled. Biceps and triceps gaining a powerful new roundness, ending in long fingered hands, also swelled thick with vains. Thick pectorals grew like balloons  his chest. Defined muscluler abs appearing out of thin air, leading teasingly down below. 

Speaking of down below, his formerly small member swelled to easily 8”. Hair growing over a heavy balls sack, the tests filling with testosterone and sperm. The growth continued down his legs. His thighs swelling as large as beer kegs, so large they rubbed against each other.  Spreading down, his calves bulked with soild muscle. And his feet expanding, becoming massive and sweaty. Filling with vein too, his feet stopped growing around a size 16. 

“Yessss, bye bye skinny boo.” He yelled as his transformation continued. 

His face began to change, gaining classically handsome features. A sharp jawline, proud nose, puffy lips, and natural bedroom eyes. His buzz cut grew out into effortlessly messy fringe, making him look like a tic-tok wanna be. Covered quickly by a backwards baseball cap. His black hoddie and sweats reshaped, becoming a tight fitting gray tank top and black shorts showing off the slight hair on his muscular legs. To complete the physical change, he flelt a slight weight on his neck in the form of a thick silver chain and a matching bracelet. 

He felt his brain fog over, years of low self esteem and social isolation replaced by partying all night and fucking long into the morning. He felt his strangth of mind replaced by strangth of body. As if all his smarts and awareness had been transmuted into physical form. Details filled in the blanks, growing up in an athletic family, coming out as gay at a young age, and fulfilling his life long dream of becoming a frat boy freshmen year. Once the final changes clicked in place, a hysterical smile grew on his lips. 

“Hello, big dick frat boi bf!”

JB looked around at the new frat brothers around him. The quarterback started to talk excitedly to him.

“I’m going to need way more bros for the team. Got, like, lots of ideas bro.” He said. 

Chad was trying to get his hungover father into the frat house. Muttering curses under his breath for not making his mom into a younger brother like Terence. Terence stood, however, dealing with his own issues.

“We’re so fuckin hot now, bros,” one of the triplets remarked.

“I’m obviously the hotest tho’,” another muttered.

“Hey,” yelled the last, “it’s me,”.

“You dudes are hopeless. Legit, y’all are identical.” Terence said, exasperated beyond belief.

As the day went on the new bros began to fade into the rhythm of the fraternity. That night they huddled on the roof, drunk, watching the sun set over the collage campus. Sending a clear message into the ether, Omega X Phi would never go fucking down, bro.

(A new original story! I really loved making this one, Greek Life forever dude. writing the first of the sequels right now, they will arrive in a couple weeks. In the meantime got some exciting stuff on the way…)

[frozenthrall]

Scholarship

30 days before annual Ashworth Math Competition

First week..

Sitting at his table, Leo was looking over the package that arrived earlier this morning. It came from a scammy site that promised to help him with his problems. It was a small package of powder that was supposed to slow cognitive abilities of whoever took it. The best part? It was undetectable, and by the end of the month, irreversible. Although Leo didn't really think it would work, he was desperate and desperate people do... Whatever it takes to win.

Ren, his roommate was the only obstacle standing between Leo and the Ashworth Scholarship. Full tuition, a stipend, and a guaranteed spot in the graduate program... The only issue was that there could only be one winner. The mathematics department would make their final decision based on the upcoming regional competition, and Leo knew, with the cold certainty, that Ren was better. Not by much. But enough.

Ren had that thing Leo lacked - genuine brilliance. Numbers sang to Ren. He didn't just solve problems; he understood them. Leo had to grind, to bleed, to sacrifice sleep and social life and anything resembling normal human existence just to stay neck and neck with someone who doodled fractals in the margins of his notes for fun.

It wasn't fair.

Thankfully, Leo seemingly found a solution. Even if it would just give Ren headache, he would be happy. Now, the side effects were listed in small print: Increased muscle density, heightened testosterone production, and some other. Unfortunately for a math genius he didn't bother too much to read everything a site had to offer as he was blinded by his wish to win...

Ren was already in the kitchen when Leo emerged from his room, feigning casualness. The dorm's shared space was small but functional: a mini-fridge, a microwave, a single counter that Ren was currently leaning against as he stirred instant noodles in a bowl.

"Morning" Ren said, his voice still raspy with sleep. He was tall, six feet even, with the hunched posture that made him look a bit smaller than he actually was. His dark hair was a mess, his glasses slightly crooked. He wore a threadbare t-shirt with a Star Wars reference "You're up early." Ren added

"Couldn't sleep," Leo said, which was true enough. "I was thinking about that equation we were trying to solve yesterday..."

"Tell me about it." Ren yawned, his jaw cracking. "I've got this theorem stuck in my head. It's like a song on repeat. I was dreaming about it."

Leo's jaw tightened. Of course he was. "Coffee?" He said with a soft smile

"God, yes." Ren said unsuspicious, simply craving a drink right now.

This was the moment. Leo moved to the counter, his back to Ren, and poured two mugs from the pot he'd brewed minutes earlier. The powder was already in his palm, a fine white dust that looked exactly like sugar. He tipped it into Ren's mug, stirred it once, and watched it dissolve completely. 'I hope this works...'

He handed Ren the coffee. Their fingers brushed. Ren smiled, genuinely, warmly, the smile of someone who considered Leo a friend. "Thanks, man. You're a lifesaver."

"Don't mention it," Leo said, dismissing it with his hand, as he watched Ren drink with a smirk crawling up his face...

And to his luck... The first signs came within few days

Leo had spent the day in the library, running through practice problems until his eyes burned. When he returned to the dorm, Ren was at his desk, staring at his laptop with an expression of mild confusion.

"You okay?" Leo asked, hanging his bag on the back of his chair.

"Yeah, just... I don't know. Feel weird." Ren rolled his shoulders "Like, sore. But I didn't work out or anything." He added standing up a bit to stretch.

Leo's pulse quickened... Was it already working? "Maybe you're coming down with something." He said trying to hide a smile as he thought of possibilities

"Maybe." Ren stretched his arms overhead, and his t-shirt rode up, exposing a strip of his stomach. Leo frowned. Was it his imagination, or did Sam's midsection look... tighter? Less soft?

"You been eating differently?" Leo asked, keeping his voice neutral, unsure if the powder could react so fast or was his imagination playing tricks on him...

Ren shrugged. "Just been hungrier than usual. I destroyed a whole pizza at lunch. Didn't even feel full." He laughed, but there was a nervous edge to it. "Weird, right?"

"Nothing weird about it. You were just really hungry probably" Leo said dismissing Ren's concerns.

By end of the week, Ren had stopped wearing shirts in the dorm.

Leo walked in from a late study session to find his roommate sprawled on the couch in nothing but gym shorts, a sheen of sweat on his body despite the air conditioning being cranked to maximum. The change was undeniable now. Sam's chest, which had been flat and undefined a few days ago, now sported the faint outline of pectorals. His shoulders looked broader, straining the straps of his backpack when he bothered to carry one.

"Dude, I don't know what's happening to me," Ren said, not looking away from the TV. He was watching a mixed martial arts fight, something Leo had never seen him do before. "I went for a run this morning. Just felt like it. And I ran like, four miles. Didn't even get tired."

"That's... good?" Leo offered, not wishing to raise suspicion. "Means you are in good shape..."

"It's weird." Ren finally turned to look at him, and Leo felt his stomach drop. There was something different about Ren's face. His jaw seemed squarer, his brow heavier, his eyes somehow... sharper. Did he know something?

"I tried to study today. Sat down with my notes and just... couldn't. The numbers looked like gibberish."

Leo manufactured a concerned expression, still trying to play a role of a supportive best friend. "Stress, probably. We've been pushing hard."

"Yeah." Ren scratched his chest absently, the motion drawing attention to the new definition there. "Maybe." He sniffed his armpit and made a face. "God, I reek. I've been sweating nonstop. It's like my body's on overdrive."

"Shower might help."

"Yeah, maybe in a minute." Ren's attention drifted back to the fight. One fighter had the other in a chokehold, muscles bulging, sweat flying. Ren leaned forward, his eyes bright with an interest "This is actually pretty sick. You ever watch this stuff?"

"No." Leo replied in an instant, not even remotely interested

"You should. It's way better than I thought." Ren flexed his arm unconsciously, watching the bicep rise. "I kinda want to try it. MMA, I mean. Or maybe just hitting the gym. I feel like I've got all this... energy."

Leo sat down at his desk, pretending to open a textbook. His heart was hammering. Were these signs of mental decline... Or just a new interest he picked up...

Second week

Leo was woken by a crash. He bolted upright, disoriented, to find Ren standing in the middle of the room, staring at a broken lamp on the floor.

"What happened?" Leo asked.

"I don't know." Ren's voice was deeper. Noticeably deeper. A rumble rather than the soft tenor he had a week ago. "I reached for it and just... knocked it over. I didn't even touch it hard."

He bent to pick up the pieces, and the seams of his t-shirt gave way with a long, slow tearing sound. The fabric split down the back, exposing a landscape of new muscle - trapezius muscles climbing his neck, lats flaring out to create a V-shape that hadn't existed before, it was... Magnificent.

Ren straightened, holding the ruined shirt in one hand. He stared at it, then at his body, then at Leo.

"What the fuck is happening to me?"

There was fear in his voice. Real, genuine fear. For a moment, Leo felt a stab of something like guilt. This was Ren. His roommate. His friend, even, before the scholarship had poisoned everything between them. But then Leo remembered the Ashworth. The future. The tuition.

"I don't know," he said. "But whatever it is, it's good, no?"

"Maybe." Ren was still looking at his own body, flexing his hands, watching himself in the mirror . "But... I don't know. I do feel kind of... good? Like, really good. Strong. I did push-ups this morning. It felt really nice to be active. You should try it sometime " Ren grinned, and even his grin was different too. Cockier. "Didn't even break a sweat. Although... I'm always kinda sweating now. But you know what I mean, bro"

He tossed the ruined shirt aside and walked to the bathroom, his chest wider, his feet landing heavier. Leo watched him go, noting the way his thighs seemed thicker, the way his boxers were straining across ass that had definitely grown.

The powder wasn't just working. It was exceeding expectations. If things went accordingly to plan... He was sure to get that scholarship~

Third week

Ren had stopped going to classes. It started with sleeping in. Then it was "I'll catch up later." Then it was silence, an unspoken acknowledgment that catching up was no longer possible. The textbooks sat untouched on his desk, gathering dust. His laptop stayed closed. Instead, Ren went to the gym.

He'd joined on a whim, wandering into the campus fitness center after a morning run and deciding to "try some lifts." From the first session, he was hooked. He came back that day with a manic light in his eyes, babbling about "the pump" and "feeling the burn" and a dozen other phrases that sounded like a foreign language coming from his mouth.

"Bro, you gotta come with me," he said, dropping his gym bag on the floor with a heavy thud. "It's insane. I bench-pressed like, two plates. First try. People were staring."

"Two plates?" Leo didn't know what that meant, but it sounded impressive.

"Two-twenty-five." Sam grinned, flexing his arm. The bicep rose like a softball, veins snaking across the surface. In two weeks, he'd gone from a soft-bodied academic to someone who looked like he'd been lifting for years. How was it even possible? What even was in that power... "Coach came up to me after. Asked if I played football in high school. I told him I was on the chess team and he couldn't believe it!" He laughed, a booming sound that filled the room. Leo forced himself to laugh along. "The chess team. Can you imagine this" Ren said pointing at himself "On a chess team. I bet my opponent would give up on sight due fear" Ren shook his head, the motion slower than it used to be.

Leo was looking. It was impossible not to look. Ren had grown. Not just muscle; height. He'd been eye level with Leo two weeks ago... A bit taller. Now Leo had to tilt his head up slightly to meet his eyes. The doorframes were becoming a hazard. And Leo only came up to his chest...

"Speaking of chess," Leo ventured, "we should probably review for the competition. It's in two weeks. The Ashworth is riding on it." He said testing the waters

Ren's face went blank. The word "Ashworth" seemed to register, then fade, like a stone dropped into deep water. "Right. The scholarship thing." He scratched his jaw, which now sported permanent stubble, the hair coming in thicker and darker than before. "Honestly, bro, I don't know if that's my thing anymore."

"What?" Leo's voice came out sharper than intended. He was honestly surprised there for a second "Ren, you've been working toward this for three years." Leo didn't even know why he said that. Perhaps he felt guilty about this whole situation... Did he go to far? Perhaps there was time to reverse the changes after competition.

"Yeah, but..." He struggled, visibly, to form the thought. "Math just doesn't... click anymore, you know? It's like trying to read a language I forgot. When I'm lifting, everything makes sense. The weight goes up, the weight goes down. Simple. Math's all..." He waved a hand vaguely. "Fuzzy."

Fuzzy. The word echoed in Leo's mind. He was definitely getting dumber... Ren's brain was literally being rewired to prioritize physical prowess over intellectual capability.

"Well," Leo said carefully, "if you aren't interested, perhaps you should not come. No use in just taking space among nerds there"

"Yeah, nerds" Ren's smirked "I'm better off not being there, spending time on something more important" He clapped Leo on the shoulder, and the force of it nearly knocked him off his chair. "You're smart, bro. Always thinking. That's why I keep you around."

Keep you around. Not "that's why we're friends." The phrasing was hierarchical now. Dominant and subordinate. Jock and his nerd.

The next evening, Ren brought a girl back to the dorm.

Leo had never seen Ren with a girl before. The old Ren was too shy, too awkward, too lost in his own head to even attempt flirting. Not to mention gay. But this new Ren, the one who walked with his chest puffed out and his shoulders back, apparently had no such difficulties.

Her name was Tiffany, a blonde cheerleader with eyes that never left Ren's body. Leo sat at his desk, trying to study, while he heard sounds coming from Ren's room. He stared at his textbook, the symbols blurring. He could hear them kissing, the wet sounds amplified in the small room. He could smell Ren's cologne, something cheap and musky that he'd bought at the campus store. He could feel the vibration through the floor as Ren shifted his weight...

"God, you're huge," Tiffany whispered.

"All natural, babe."

Leo's stomach turned. his was only a start of the night of loud moans and whimpers had just began... How much stamina did Ren have now?

Fourth week

By the start of week four, the old Ren was dead.

Leo knew this with absolute certainty the moment he woke to find his textbooks dumped on the floor, replaced on his desk by a pair of massive, sweat-stained sneakers. Size sixteen. They reeked of the gym and locker rooms.

"Sorry, bro." Ren's voice rumbled from the living room, completely unapologetic, as Leo went to the kitchen to make breakfast. "Needed somewhere to put 'em. Your desk was empty."

Leo turned. Ren was sprawled on couch that now seemed comically small beneath his frame, wearing nothing but a jockstrap that struggled to contain its contents. His body was a masterpiece of excess… shoulders like boulders, pecs thick that were probably bigger than most women's boobs, abs carved so deep they looked like a washboard. His thighs spread wide, taking up space, legs wide as tree trunks. He was easily 6'5" now, maybe taller, and every inch of him oozed that salty musk…

"My textbooks were there," Leo said quietly.

"Were they?" Ren didn't look up from his phone. "Didn't notice. Hey, you gonna eat that?" He gestured at Leo's untouched breakfast, a bowl of oatmeal.

"I was planning to."

"I'm fucking starving, dude. Be a bro." It wasn't a question.

Leo watched Ren consume his breakfast in four massive bites, oatmeal dripping down his chin. When he finished, he tossed the bowl onto couch, leaving a smear of saliva and oats on the sheets.

"Clean that up, yeah? Thanks." He said without even looking at it, Leo cleaned it, not wanting to argue...

But definitely the worst part was the smell.

Ren's body now produced a constant, pungent musk that saturated everything. The dorm reeked of it. A thick, masculine odor of sweat and hormones and something else, something almost chemical. Leo would come back from class and gag on the air. His clothes absorbed the smell. His bedsheets. His hair. So they both lived in Ren's stench, a constant reminder of who owned the space.

Arguably the only thing worse than smell would be the noises. Ren's libido had become monstrous. When he couldn't find a girl, which was rare, but happened, he would handle himself with a complete lack of shame. The wet, rhythmic sounds filling the dorm at all hours. Leo would lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to sleep while listening to moans coming from Ren's room.

"Bro." Ren's voice cut through the darkness one night, rough and commanding. "Bro, come here"

Leo mumbled from his room. "What?"

"You heard me. Get over here."

"I'm trying to sleep."

A low, humorless laugh. "I don't care. I got a problem and my hand's not cutting it tonight. You're gonna help so I can get to bed too. I have practice tomorrow"

"Ren, I don't-"

The lights flicked on. Ren was standing beside Leo's bed, completely naked. And between his legs, jutting upward was something that made Leo's mind go blank with terror. The powder had changed everything. Ren’s dick was enormous, grotesquely, almost comically endowed, thick as Leo's forearm and pulsing with visible need.

"You see this?" Ren gestured at himself, a smirk playing on his lips. "How am I supposed to sleep with this thing asking to be fed? It's so hungry bro.."

Leo's heart stopped. "What?"

Ren casually wrapped a hand around himself, stroking slowly "And now you're gonna help me. Like good roommates do.. Get on your knees."

"Ren, this is insane. I'm not-"

"Did I ask?" The smirk vanished. Ren's face hardened into something cold and cruel. "I said get on your fucking knees bitch"

Leo's body moved before his brain could catch up. Fear was a powerful motivator. He slid off his bed and approached, trembling, his eyes fixed anywhere but the massive thing Ren was stroking.

"Good boy." Ren's voice was a low, approving rumble. "Knew you'd see it my way."

Leo knelt on the cold floor, his mind screaming at him to run, to fight, to do anything but what he was about to do. But his body wouldn't obey. Ren loomed over him like a skyscraper, blocking out the ceiling light, casting him in shadow as all Leo could see when he looked up was a shelf of pecs that blocked his view of Ren's face. Maybe for the best. The smell was overwhelming this close… musk and sweat and something primal that made Leo's head swim.

"Open up," Ren commanded, one massive hand gripping the back of Leo's head. "Don't make this weird. A mouth's a mouth. It's not gay if you don't think about it. And don't you dare use teeth. Else" he said squeezing Leo's back, just enough to send a message. “You already know what'll happen”

But you used to be gay, Leo thought. You had a boyfriend sophomore year. You cried when he transferred schools. But that part of Ren doesn't exist anymore. Ren's existence had been erased and replaced with this towering, aggressive, painfully stupid alpha who viewed Leo as nothing more than a convenient hole.

"Come on, bro. I don't got all night." Ren's grip tightened in Leo's hair, pulling his face forward. "I told you I had practice tomorrow morning, I need to be rested. So you better suck on it like your life depends on it and be honored you are even allowed to touch my cock"

Honored. The word was so absurd Leo almost laughed. Instead, he closed his eyes and let Ren pull him in as he choked on the massive thing, barely fitting it into his mouth while not to start crying.

Afterward, he spent twenty minutes in the bathroom, brushing his teeth until his gums bled, scrubbing his face, trying to erase the taste and the shame. When he emerged, Ren was already asleep, sprawled on his back, still naked, still half hard somehow with his dick still leaking small amounts of cum over his sheets.

Leo barely slept that night. He laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to Ren's breathing. His jaw ached. His pride was in tatters. And somewhere, in the back of his mind, a small voice whispered: You did this. This is your monster.

The next morning, Leo tried to assert some fragment of normalcy. "The competition is Saturday," he said, his voice hoarse. "I need to prepare. I need quiet."

Ren was doing push-ups on the floor, one-armed, his free hand scrolling through his phone. He didn't look up. "Cool, bro. Have fun with your nerd party."

"It's not a party. It's a mathematics competition. The Ashworth Scholarship is-"

"Yeah, yeah, free money. You said." Ren switched arms, his bicep bulging obscenely. "You know what else is free money? My scholarship. Coach talked to me again. They wanna give me a full ride. Football. Coach says I'm 'a natural talent.'"

Leo's stomach dropped as he repeated "Football scholarship?"

"Hell yeah. Gonna be the star player. Coach say I'm the biggest guy he's ever seen walk onto the field. And I'm still growing." Ren stood up, stretching, and Leo watched in horrified fascination as his lats flared out like wings. "They're gonna pay me to smash people. Best deal. Ever." He grabbed his gym bag and headed for the door, ducking slightly to avoid hitting his head on the frame. Before he left, he paused, looking back at Leo.

"Hey, bro? Clean up a bit while I'm gone. This place smells like a nerd died in here."

The door slammed. Leo stood alone in the silence, surrounded by the wreckage of his plan.

Friday night. Twelve hours until a competition.

Leo was at his desk, reviewing his notes one final time. The equations were solid in his mind. If he could just get through tomorrow, just show up and perform, the Ashworth was his. Ren was no longer a threat. Ren couldn't solve a basic algebra problem anymore. The scholarship was Leo's by default.

"Bro."

Leo didn't turn around. "What?"

"Got a problem."

"You always have a problem. Handle it yourself."

A low chuckle. "Feisty tonight. I like that." The floorboards creaked as Ren approached. "But here's the thing. I already handled myself three times today and it's not enough.” Ren's hands landed on Leo's shoulders, massive and heavy, kneading the muscle with casual ownership. "Tiffany's out of town. Some cheerleading thing. So it's just us tonight, bro. Lucky you."

"I'm studying." Leo replied trying to get Ren off his back

"You're always studying." Ren spun Leo's chair around, forcing eye contact. "Here's what's gonna happen. You're gonna do what you did the other night. Then you're gonna do it again. And again. And again. Because I said so."

"No." The word came out before Leo could stop it. "I have the competition tomorrow. I need to sleep. You can't just-"

"Can't just what?" Ren's voice dropped, the playfulness vanishing. "Can't just what, bro? Say it."

Leo's throat closed. He stared up at the monster he'd created, at the thick neck and the square jaw and the eyes that held no recognition, no friendship, no mercy. This wasn't Ren. This was something else wearing Ren's skin.

"You think you're better than me?" Ren leaned down, his face inches from Leo's. "You think your little math contest matters? It doesn't. You know what matters? This." He flexed his arm, the bicep rising like a mountain. "Power. Strength. The only things that actually count in this world. You're smart, bro, but you're weak. And weak people serve strong people. That's just nature."

"I'm not your servant."

"No." Ren grinned. "You're my roommate. Which is even better. You can't leave. You can't escape. You're stuck here with me, and I'm gonna keep getting bigger and stronger and hornier, and you're gonna keep helping me out. Forever. Sound good?"

Leo didn't answer. He couldn't. His throat was too tight, his eyes burning with tears he refused to shed.

"Good talk." Ren straightened up, his shadow swallowing Leo whole. "Now. Knees. We're gonna be here a while." He said... And truly, by the time they were done, Leo lost count how many times did Ren cum into his mouth, but before passing out, he could swear he saw a sunrise.

Day of the Competition

Leo's alarms didn't go off.

He woke at 10:47 AM, gasping, disoriented, the morning light slicing through the blinds. The competition had started at 9:00 AM sharp. Registration closed at 8:30. He had slept through all of it... slept through his alarm, through his backup alarm, through the third alarm he'd set on his phone.

He grabbed his phone. The alarms were all disabled. Every single one. And there, in the notification history, a message he hadn't sent:

"I can't make it. I'm withdrawing from the competition. Sorry for the late notice."

"No" he breathed. "No, no, no-"

"Morning, bro." Ren said casually with a smirk

Leo whipped around. Ren was sitting on the edge of his bed, already awake, already dressed in gym clothes, a protein shake in his massive hand. He looked... content. Satisfied.

"You," Leo whispered. "You turned off my alarms."

"Did I?" Ren took a long sip of his shake, unbothered. "Must've been an accident. Your phone was making noise while you were asleep. Figured you needed the rest."

"You sent that message."

"Which message?" Ren's grin was a knife. "The one where you quit? Yeah. I helped you out with that. You were really stressed and tired last night after I was done with you. Said you didn't even wanna go. So I made it easy for you."

Leo launched himself off the bed, fury overriding reason. "Do you have any idea what you've done? The Ashworth was my only chance! My entire future was riding on that competition! You've ruined everything!"

He was pounding on Ren's chest with both fists, his blows utterly useless against the wall of muscle. Ren didn't even flinch. He just looked down at Leo with something between amusement and pity.

"You done?" The giant smirked

"I hate you! I hate you so much!" Leo shouted

"Yeah, I know." Ren grabbed Leo's wrists with one hand, effortlessly restraining him. "But here's the thing, bro. You're not going anywhere. You missed your nerd party. You're stuck here. With me." He pulled Leo closer, his breath hot and sour against his face. "So you might as well make yourself useful again, I can't go into gym with a morning wood"

"Let me go." Leo tried resisting, but it was all for nothing.

"After you are done with your job. Oh and don't worry. Coach called. It's official, I got the sports scholarship. Full ride. They're announcing it Monday. I'm gonna be a star, bro. A legend. You should be happy at least one of us gets a scholarship." He released Leo's wrists, shoving him backward onto his own bed. "And if you don't want to end up on the street, I suggest you start taking very good care of me. Every day. Because that's what good roommates do."

Leo sat on the edge of his bed, defeated, hollowed out, as Ren stood and stretched, his massive body blocking out the sun.

"Life's pretty good, you know?" Ren said, almost to himself. "Got the scholarship. Got the girls. Got you to handle the rest. What else could a guy need?" He laughed, taking out his dick in front of Leo's face and smacking him with it. "Open wide roomie" he said showing that monster inside Leo's mouth.

But Leo didn't protest or cry... he was too broken to feel anything as he sucked Ren's dick to the best of his abilities, chocking and gagging on it as Ren pushed into Leo's throat, not caring if the other boy could breathe or not. Everything was going so well... He was so close to getting that scholarship and now... Now he was stuck as Ren's cum dump... Forced to do whatever his roommate wanted if he wished to even get a penny and pay his school year...

After finishing inside Leo, Ren just pulled his shaft out of smaller boy's mouth. "Damn, that was good. You are getting better. I like how tight your throat is, how you squeeze me. You are better at this than Tiffany. Speaking of which, she is coming tonight. Tidy up the room and go somewhere. I can't be seen with a faggot like you " Ren said grabbing his gym bag and leaving the room