I had just returned from the past. This douche ran into me on the street and had the audacity to say it was my fault. So I made sure he went to football camp instead of business school.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
He smiled dumbly. “Nah, man,” he chuckled. His eyes flitted down to my crotch.
In need of assistance - AI muscle growth himbo sequence
George adjusted his tie and got comfortable in his chair as the IT guy tapped away on his computer, as head of marketing and sales he was eager to get this new AI assistant programme some of the other department heads had been raving about. It was said to make organisation, spread sheets, emails and data analysis a breeze.
"There we are Mr Harris, the programme is installed and I have done most of the set but I have left the customisation for you to finish. Mr Higgins down the hall went with a woman with a sweet, southern sounding voice but I think you can create an avatar and everything."
"An Avawhat?" George said while raising an eyebrow at the man about to leave. Who was about to answer before George's human assistant walked in.
"Avatar Mr Harris, is like a body for the computer assistant they have installed. Speaking of which do you think I could have one as well, it would help with scheduling and organising so much easy."
George scoffed "Johnny this programme was very expensive and cutting edge, the company isn't going to waste it on assistants. Now grab me a black coffee and a doughnut I have that meeting with the Europeans up on 78 in half an hour." George said dismissing Johnny and turning to look at his computer not noticing his assistant pouty face and whispered curse word as he went to fetch the coffee and snack.
George looked at the programme and lent closer to read the small text, at 58 his eyesight was only getting worse and being in front of screen all day wasn't helping. George read some text and barely understood most of the jargon but then read a word he had only learnt about moments ago. "Upload Avatar" George muttered and then his thoughts turned to what the IT guy had said about Higgin's new AI assistant, perhaps he could upload some hot twenty something bimbo with blonde hair and pigtails. George looked around as his cock started to stiffen in his pants, hearing a sexy dumb blonde every time would certainly make work more interesting. George then happily clicked upload and suddenly a sharp electrical shock ran through him, his computer screen turned a vibrant blue as a swirling portal like hole appeared. George's instincts were to pull away but he was quickly and violently pulled towards it and before he could even let out a yelp his whole body was thrown forward and his whole world began to spin.
George's whole vision went black and he felt like he was floating, he tried to shout but no sound emerged from his mouth, he tried to move but it was like he was embedded in rock. Then a white light flashed in front of his eyes and slowly his vision started to clear, he could see the window in his office, his filing cabinets, his office chair and his computer keyboard but something was off, the angle was wrong. George blinked more as he tried to search for his computer screen and what had happened to it and to him but, with the electrical buzzing around him, his new view and perspective George quickly understood why he couldn't see his computer. It was because he was now stuck inside of it and looking out at where he had just been sitting!
George tried to move again but his arms and legs stayed firmly down by his sides, the tried to scream for help but while his mouth opened and moved no sound emerged. George panicked he was like a mime trapped in a box except he was now a chubby 58 year business man trapped in his own computer! George's panic was then interrupted as a knock came from his office door and Johnny walked in holding the coffee and doughnut he requested.
"Mr Harris I have your coffee and I got you a selection of do- Oh, and you are not in here...great. The dick must have already gone to his meeting."
George was screaming for Johnny to see him, to help him but his muted lips did nothing to attract Johnny's attention as he dropped the coffee and doughnut on the side. George flailed against his invisible bonds but his body refused to move, he needed help desperately as he screamed until his face went red and then Jonny's face appeared in view, looking curiously at the computer screen where he was trapped. Johnny then came closer and sat down at the computer and George breathed a sigh of relief Johnny would see him and save him! This trapped nightmare would be over and he wouldn't be late for his meeting up on the 78th floor. However, George started to become worried as Johnny grabbed the mouse and started clicking but did not acknowledge George at all.
"Eurgh of course the asshole would make his AI assistant look like himself, what a fucking narcissist"
George tried to yell out, to explain that it was really him , he wasn't AI that he was trapped but his little sad expression and flapping mouth did nothing to attract Johnny's attention and he started to click on tabs and windows around George, his little electronic body feeling them around him and without reading he found himself knowing and sensing what the text said, it was like he was part of the computer, part of the network! George was bombard with a ton of information and he processed it all within moments all without his consent.
"Looks like IT did a good job setting him up." Johnny then looked to the office door and out the window to see if anyone was looking his way. "I'm sure Mr Harris wouldn't check if I take a copy of the programme home, but I ain't taking you Mr AI Harris" Johnny laughed as he clicked on the customise option.
George could sense the window that appeared around and even though he couldn't move to read it he knew exactly what it said, it was as his mind was connected to the computer. He could see the detailed description of his body, his face, his outfit and his overall impression where he was a little offended by the title of 'sale support role'. However, George quickly got over his offence as worry plagued him as he felt Johnny click on the appearance and began to edit, change and type.
Johnny typed away and spoke to himself "If I'm going to have my own AI I’m not having some chubby old guy, no thanks!" Johnny then began changing George's description and as he typed George felt something in him changing, something buzzing and electrical as his code started to get eaten up and rewritten to Johnny's liking. George tried to scream but his little open mouth was ignored by the rapidly typing Johnny. George squirmed as he could feel what Johnny wrote about the man being handsome and 20 years, young and fit. His hair being styled and neat, his eyebrows striking and his eyes now blue.
George winced as his felt his entire body buzz and change as the weight from his belly rapidly reduced and a strong flat stomach replaced it. The fat around his arms, legs and face also vanished and a smaller bulge of muscle appeared to give him a toned and athletic body, while his face buzzed with electricity as his eyes changed colour, his hair lengthened and thickened into a suave chic style as his eyebrows were shaped and plucked into line. George tried to shout again as his faced buzzed as he grew younger, his skin getting smoother, his jawline becoming more defined and masculine until he looked like a much young, more handsome version of himself. George would have been thrilled at the changes if he had been the one in control and not trapped and under the command of his assistants whims!
"That's better." Johnny said but it was obvious he still wasn't impressed or finished. "I think we need to get you out of that stuffy suit. I know how about..." Johnny said before trailing off and typing away.
George still tried to shout to Johnny even though he knew it was pointless, he had no voice, he had no say, he had no control! George could only whimper and he felt Johnny's changes to his clothing typed up beside him. Gone was the suit and instead it was slowly being replaced by an outlandish, bright and deeply homosexual outfit. George could feel his clothing being stripped away as his jacket faded to nothing and his expensive dress shoes shimmered and changed into big white trainers with neon stripes. His trousers receded exposing more and more of his legs until the stopped at his upper thigh, the material became shiny and pink and attracted attention to his bulge. While his shirt became see through as it turned to a mesh material, the bottom became cropped exposing his lower abdomen and a deep v appeared down the chest exposing his chest. Everything became tight and revealing and George felt exposed and vulnerable but could do nothing to cover himself up!
"Ooh looking hot!" Johnny said pleased with the next outfit George was sporting even though George was still desperately calling for help and getting no response. "Hmmm but now that your body isn't covered up it could use some improvements, I wonder how big I can make you"
George winced, what did Johnny mean by big? George didn't have to wait too long to find out as Johnny's typings went straight to his head and immediately began editing his body. It started with his height as he grew taller by an least another foot, then his muscles started to expand. George's back grew wider and his shoulders rounded as his deltoids surged with new mass, capping his frame like cannonballs. His biceps throbbed and inflated dramatically, veins snaking over peaks that rose higher with every heartbeat, while his triceps hardened into dense horseshoes beneath them. His legs grew just as rapidly and wildly as his quads ballooned outward as thick columns of striated muscle pushed his legs apart. Then came his chest and George now understood what Johnny was talking about when he wondered how big he would get, as his pectorals ballooned outwards and hung from his chest like tits. The massive mounds of muscle blocked his view looking down and in his mesh shirt, his hard nipples were impossible to hide. George desperately wanted to move he wanted to feel and see his new body, not just know that he had changed. He hated how his brain seemed to be directly connected to the computer and even though he wanted to shout to escape a new part of him wanted to tell Johnny about his spelling mistake and a better way to phrase his sentence!
"Damn those are some big titties" Johnny chuckled enjoying creating his own assistant, blissfully unaware of the turmoil George was going through. "Hmm while I like it, I do think I need to look at someone a bit more exotic on my home screen" Johnny said as he started to type carefully thinking more carefully about what he meant.
George once again yelled, his silent scream ignored by his engrossed and now slightly horny assistant. It was only one small change to his description but those few little words, 'muscular Brazilian' changed everything about George as immediately his brain was flooded with Portuguese and his English knowledge was greatly reduced. George's skin started to darken as a deep rich bronze tan raced from his head all the way to his toes, his hair turned jet black and thickened considerably. George could feel his nose widen and his lips plump up, while his pectorals seemed to expand even further becoming even more prominent and oversized. George found his mind buzzing as well as instead of memories of home he found himself remembering a tropical beach, volleyball, carnival and the sounds of the rainforest. George tried to shake his head as if to shake the new memories away but his mind continued to buzz as his new code replaced his family, friends and home with an entirely different set of memories of living in South America. George just wanted to cry, he wanted to be himself, he wanted to be free and no longer did he want to be tormented by Johnny.
For the first time Johnny seemed to notice something wasn't quite right about the muscular, Brazilian hunk he had created as he looked at his shocked and sad expression. Curious, Johnny clicked on another tab and began reading before finding what he was searching for "Oh now I see why you have that sad look on your face." Johnny said and for the briefest of moment's George had some hope, hope that Johnny had finally worked out it wasn't just a programme that it was his boss who was trapped and was silently begging for help for the last 10 minutes!
"The man is hard-working, dedicated to the company, will feel hurt and disappointed if he fails the user, needs to be working 24/7 with an intense love for work and giving 100% to the company. A perfectionist and detailed orientated workaholic. Jesus no wonder you are miserable, standing around must be killing you. Don't worry I don't think I need someone like that. In fact looking at that beautiful face and sublime chest I doubt you are going to help me with much work." Johnny chuckled as he moved his hand to his pants and adjusted his growing erection before typing again.
George wanted to scream as Johnny was no longer changing his appearance he was changing his very personality. Johnny started by erasing his eagerness to work, his perfectionism and his memory of all the knowledge of the company and soon it was replaced with gym routines, diets, locations of gay clubs, cocktails and gay club wear and fashion. George's mind swirled as he desperately tried to cling to his years of experience, the years he has spent working his way to the top but all of it began to slip away like it has never existed. George thought of his wife and kids but their faces now felt like images from an old dream. Instead all he could remember was eating plain chicken breast, working out his chest, chatting with other gym bro's, drinking to much and dancing until the early hours of the morning. George wanted to cry as his life was rewritten effortlessly into an entirely new person. George whimpered as Johnny typed up his new personality with words like 'bubbly, vapid, kind, sultry, arrogant, confident, show off'. George's mind began to slow as his jaw slackened and his stance relaxed. His terror and fear was pushed to the back of his mind along with any traces of the old him, who was trying with all his might to hold on but was losing. George felt his expression change as although he wanted to scream the new relaxed, vapid, vain him just smirked enjoying how much of his body he got to show off.
Johnny was now very pleased and now had one hand down his trousers as he touched his cock, while also looking at the door to make sure no one was close to approaching him and his himbo AI assistant. Johnny then moved the cursor over to the new George and to his delight found he could move his new assistant so he could see his new creation at all angles. George felt like vomiting as he was violently spun around on the spot, his face however also looking back out at the screen. George's panic and fear was concealed as the new Brazilian him who was more worried about his muscles than being trapped as an AI for his old assistant just smirked and flexed.
Johnny grinned as he looked at the back of his new creation and the cute little bubble butt that strained against the shiny pink hot pants.
Johnny then couldn't help himself, he had already given his new AI massive pectorals perhaps he could give him an ass that could rival their size. George was terrified and embarrassed as he felt his ass cheeks being to swell and expand, however the new him was thrilled as new thoughts of thongs and bent over ass selfies entered his head. George was fighting a losing battle as his cries for help, his humiliation were all confined to a rapidly shrinking area of his mind. When his ass cheeks had finished ballooning. each was now the size of basketball and wobbled obscenely as Johnny moved him around. Johnny was almost salivating over the man he had created and part of him was now wondering what to do with him, since he wasn't appropriate for work.
"What am I going to do with you...George? Eurgh I can't have you named after my boss!" Johnny pulled a disgusted face before tapping his fingers and thinking, then with a lightbulb moment he began typing. George could only scream "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" as his name was erased and so was the last of his control and the new him took over, the new himbo, vain, arrogant, show-off him took over. Rodrigo took over.
"Yeah you look much more like a Rodrigo and someone like you isn't going to be working in a silly office." Johnny smiled as his phone buzzed with the familiar notification sound that came from his dating app and suddenly Johnny knew what to do with Rodrigo.
Johnny then went into the inner workings of the AI settings and decided to give George or rather Rodrigo a new function. George could only whimper as his function was written deep into his very being. No longer would he be managing a team of accountants and setting up million dollar deals, no instead it seemed he would now being managing Johnny's dating life. George tried to fight back what was being written into his very code but it was pointless he had no control as Johnny rewrote his very purpose. 'Rodrigo's primary directive is to find attractive, muscular men from ages 18-50. Rodrigo will search all appropriate men's profiles, pictures and videos. Rodrigo will store and file all images and videos sent, organising pictures and videos and saving overtly sexual and adult content. Rodrigo will analyse images to find men with large penis's and large, shapely buttocks. Rodrigo will store and organise adults videos by type, length and fetish for example armpits, piss, farts and double penetration. Rodrigo will also search the internet for appropriate videos when requested by the user. Rodrigo will always present as sultry, sexual and horny willing to please his user with all requests.' Johnny smiled as his horny brain took over as Rodrigo would become his personal porn and hook up assistant, the best wing man a guy could ask for.
George just began sobbing as he realised what the rest of his life was going to be, he was going to be nothing for a gloried porn bot! A straight man trapped and watching, searching and organising hours and hours of gay porn and thousands of hours analysing men's bulges and butts. He was a smart, sophisticated, intelligent man now reduced to a pair of bouncy pecs and a fat peachy booty. George could already feel his body thinking of lewd poses it could stand in and out of no where a pink lollipop appeared and his new body stuck its tongue seductively and smirked a his new user and master.
"Fuck you are so hot Rodrigo, you first job is to find me a real guy that looks just like you" As Johnny moved the cursor and clicked the finish button, George Harris ceased to exist besides a tiny line of code trapped in the new himbo's head.
"Now let's see you in action big guy" Johnny then opened up the website for his dating profile and sure enough Rodrigo popped up. George was then barraged with images of men as he was forced to stare at their cocks and ass cheeks, analysing every single one. Looking closely at muscular men's physiques and faces to discern who Johnny would find the most attractive. However, George's disgust would never be seen as Rodrigo was thrilled at the bounty of beautiful men and had already found 8 that Johnny might like.
"Fuck all of them are so hot! How did I ever live without you Rodrigo?" Johnny smiled as he pulled out a pink flash drive from his pocket. "Now you are coming home with me, I need some action tonight and you are going to find me the perfect man."
George was sobbing and crying as he felt his entre being being sucked away and into darkness, taken away from his office, his life, his friends, his family all to become Johnny's new assistant where he would never get a raise and never get to go home.
The first few weeks were brutal for George as he was used endlessly and he organised over 500 hours of gay porn from the basic sex to the hardcore stuff. George had looked and watched hundreds of jerking cocks, dildo's in assholes and muscular men posing and flexing that his mind had almost started to snap at the thought of him watching this kind of content for the rest of his life. He programme would run continuously, meaning he never slept and never stopped, it was constant gay men for him every seconds, of every minutes of every day. George cried out for a break or even a change from the thousands of hours of porn he was forced to watch.
However, Johnny quickly found other programmes where Rodrigo could be useful. George was thrilled at the possiblity of being used for something else but it seemed that Johnny had been curious about a new adult fantasy role play game and he had just the right character to upload. Rodrigo was more than thrilled to flirt, kiss and fuck all the different characters but George on the other hand, he would never stop screaming when he had to spend the night with Gurt and Klugg the biggest horniest orcs on the internet.
[Thank you to @axeeglitter for donating the first image!]
God, isn’t my boyfriend Kevin hot?
Like, maybe TOO hot? I constantly worry he’s going to be stolen away from me by some jacked-up jock who’s more his speed. I don’t really get what he sees in me. Especially considering how much I see in him.
Like, look at how I’m looking at him right now.
This is how my face looks every time he’s in front of me. I can’t even focus on the totally Instagram-worthy coffee shop café thing he’s dragged me to. I couldn’t care less about coffee, really, but Kevin wanted to come (“they have coffee sommeliers that come right up to your table, Andrew,” he said, as if that wasn’t what regular waiters did at regular restaurants).
Anyway, I don’t know why I get so worked up about how hot he is. He adores me. He always tells me so. He doesn’t care that I don’t play basketball or go to the gym as much as he does. He says he likes having a respite from all of that when he comes home.
He says everyone at the gym is stupid and boring. He even called them “pretentious,” which made me laugh. You can’t be pretentious about macros. They’re not, like, fine art. But it’s just Kevin being Kevin. He just calls anything he hates “pretentious.”
That’s because what Kevin really hates is pretentious people. He hates when people put on airs and pretend to be cooler than they are.
That sure isn’t how I operate. And he loves me. He’s proven that time and again. So I gotta accept it. That’s what my therapist says.
And I believe every word of his constant “I love yous,” for so many reasons. Like, this schmoopy across-the-table gaze thing is a two-way street. If you could see the way he’s looking at me right now… Puppy dog eyes, I swear. He’s toying with my hand and picks it up to kiss it gently. This sweet gesture earns us a snort of derision from this jacked guy walking past our table.
He is exactly who I’ve always secretly feared is Kevin’s type. Expensive fitted clothes that are made to look like they’re off-the-rack. Tattoos that highlight how thick his neck is and how burly his bicep is. I hate him already.
He’s clearly about to say something, but Kevin shoots him a glare and says “keep walking, pal.”
And the guy does keep walking. If only every problem in life had such a simple solution.
As soon as my food shows up, I need to pee. I can’t explain how this always happens to me. But it’s like clockwork. While I’m peeing, I type a reply to my sister Julia’s latest text. It takes longer than I anticipated, and I eventually snap out of my phone trance, realizing that a few minutes have passed since I left our table.
I wash my hands and dry them in a rush, pushing the restroom door open with my hip and hurrying back to my seat…which is currently being occupied by a big, burly man. The guy who scoffed at us earlier. Douchebag stole my seat! I storm up to the table, preparing to eloquently tell him off, but - finding myself unprepared - all I can say is, “what the fuck?”
The stranger looks at me like I’m the dirt underneath his shoe.
“What’s up, little man?” he says in a casual voice laced with condescension.
“You’re in my seat,” I say though gritted teeth.
“No, I’m in my seat,” he says.
I change tacks and turn to my boyfriend. “Kevin, tell him that’s my seat.”
Kevin just shrugs and says, “He’s been sitting here the whole time, pal, I don’t know what to tell you.”
Is this some sort of prank? Is this some friend of Kevin’s from the gym that he got to help him mess with me or something? I start to say something else when I see Kevin rest his hand on the interloper’s thigh. He’s squeezing the bulky muscle and sliding his hand too close to his crotch for comfort. I don’t think Kevin would do that just to prank me. It’s too cruel.
“Jesus, Kevin,” I say, tears welling in my eyes. “Right in front of me? That’s rich. After all the times you said my worries were unfounded. That you loved me for me.”
“Why would I tell you I loved you?” Kevin asks. He has a quizzical expression that seems genuine, and I’m lost for words yet again.
“Yeah, you’re really not his type,” says the other guy, who needs to stay out of this.
“Of course I’m his type,” I spit out.
“No offense,” says Kevin, looking me up and down, “but you’re really not. Honestly, I’m sure a lot of guys dig your vibe, but it’s a bit pretentious for me. I much prefer my big oaf here.” He accompanies that last statement by grabbing the stranger’s shoulder and giving it an affectionate little rub with his thumb.
I feel like he’s just dumped a bucket of cold water on my head. “Pretentious? Pretentious? How can you call me pretentious when this guy is wearing designer sunglasses and has a neck tattoo?”
“It’s called style, man,” says the stranger.
“Shut up, I’m not talking to you,” I spit back.
“Hey, hey,” says Kevin. “Let’s not be rude to my boyfriend.”
Hearing him say the word “boyfriend” practically made my brain implode. I gaped at him mutely, like a fish who was just unexpectedly pulled from the water onto dry land.
I can feel tears pricking the corners of my eyes. “You told me you loved me not 12 minutes ago. Now you’re feeling up some other guy in front of me and calling me pretentious. What gives?”
Kevin narrows his eyes. “What aren’t you getting? I have no reason to love you. And why wouldn’t I call you pretentious? How else would you describe that outfit?”
My sweater? I look down, confused, only to see the thick woven fibers of my top blending together into a smooth texture. As the uniform green-blue color begins to turn mottled and patchy, fading into a design of autumn leaves, the collar droops, the opening getting looser and looser to reveal first my clavicle, and then my entire bare torso as the entire sweater splits in half down the front. Buttons sprout from one side and I hastily do them up, blushing, but not quite registering that my hands stop just halfway up, leaving half my hairless chest on display. A chest that looks a bit skinner, a bit more hollow than I remember.
I feel a breeze around my ankles and look down to see that my blue jeans have become baggy, tan capris that flutter around my knees. It looks like a garment that an extra in an Indiana Jones movie would wear.
I reach out hesitantly to touch the soft fabric, light glinting off a pair of chunky rings that now adorn my hand. I feel overwhelmed by the sudden shift in my clothes. I feel dizzy… I feel-
Kevin clears his throat and I realize I have been letting his question hang in the air.
“My outfit’s not pretentious,” I say, jerking my chin toward the stranger. “Like he said, it’s called style.”
“But what about your hair? Don’t tell me that’s not pretentious.”
My hair? What about my hair? I reach up to pat it and my fingers get tangled up as the strands start growing around them, flowing around my knuckles like a river current making way for a set of boulders. My hair extends down past my nose and past my chin, eventually settling atop my shoulders in wild waves that tickle my exposed neck.
The tickling increases as my clean-shaven face suddenly explodes with bristles. I untangle my fingers from my hair to poke at my cheeks in shock as prickly stubble gives way to patchy growth, eventually becoming a soft and downy beard that feels heavenly to touch. I do use a good conditioner, after all.
I grab a hair tie from around my wrist and do up my hair in a messy bun, then return to answering Kevin’s questions. I’m still angry with him, because of… Because of why again? Oh yeah, he called me pretentious.
“For your information, I happen to look hot like this. Haven’t you noticed?” I ask. “It’s not pretentious to want to look your best.”
“OK, sure,” said Kevin, “But it’s more about the way you think. The way you carry yourself. The way you think your opinion matters more than anybody else’s.”
That statement sends me reeling. Kevin knows everything about the way I think, and he knows I’m not like that. I would never… listen to the opinions of just anyone.
I mean, if I only watched what the mainstream watched, I’d have wasted my time watching those Transformers movies in high school instead of exploring New Queer Cinema classics. Was I better than my classmates because I was watching The Watermelon Woman and The Living End? Well, yes. Yes I was.
If I only listened to what the mainstream listened to, my lovely, beat-up, vintage record player would only ever be used to play the latest Taylor Swift releases. I shudder at the thought.
If I only drank what the mainstream drank, I’d be imbibing that burnt swill that Starbucks serves up on every street corner.
But still… pretentious? I open my mouth to speak again when the big guy cuts me off.
“OK, look…” he says, squinting squints at my name tag “Andrew, is it?”
“Actually, it’s Anders,” I say, rolling my eyes. People are always getting my name wrong. It annoys the shit out of me.
“Anders. Why are you standing here arguing with my boyfriend and I? Don’t you have something you should be doing?”
I briefly think that what I should be doing is correcting his grammar. It’s “my boyfriend and me.” But then I snap out of it. Of course I have something I should be doing.
“Yes, of course. Sorry about that, sir. Well, you indicated on your digital menu that you prefer more bitterness in your coffee, so I think you’re going to want to start with this new blend we just got in, using beans from South Africa. The soil there really…”
———
After my shift ends, I brew a cup of coffee just for myself, which is my favorite part of the day. In spite of my expertise as a coffee sommelier, people always chose the safe, boring options instead of the exuberant, rich beverage experiences that they could have had if they actually listened to me.
Like that couple earlier. The buff dude didn’t even smell the South African beans I recommended. He and his boyfriend just went for the regular Americano. And get this… they asked if we had milk for them to put into it. For crying out loud!
They called me pretentious, but that’s only because they wouldn’t know taste if it bit them on the ass. I shake my head and take another sip, letting the deliciously bitter taste wash the memory of those shitty customers away.
Yes, I’ve always been this handsome. I think you’re just going crazy. I didn’t have an awkward phase, when puberty hit, I never got a single pimple, a single imperfection in my skin. My bone structure is just that good. Basically all of the girls in school had a crush on me, and some of the guys too. It’s hard to ignore such a pretty face.
I’ve always been this big too. Ever since puberty hit, I’ve just been growing nonstop, my biceps are the size of footballs and my pecs are so big I can’t even see my abs that well, and I didn’t even have to hit the gym that much for it. My doctor said it’s some sort of genetic thing. That genetic thing also makes my dick huge for some reason, go figure.
It’s also totally normal that everyone is irresistibly attracted to me. Can’t blame them, it’s their primal instinct upon seeing such a genetically blessed man. Some of the guys don’t even try to fight it too, they just let their girls go have some fun with me, then I bring them home after. The ones who don’t? I usually beat them up, or maybe just offer to fuck them after too or let them suck on my hog, that usually sweetens the deal for them.
It’s also normal for you to be hard right now, and even more normal to be wanting to suck my dick. Still think all of this is wrong? No? Well, good thing you’ve come back to your senses. As a treat, I’ll give you the carrot now. Yeah, suck it fuckin’ goooooood. Who’s the fuckin’ cock sucker now huh? You are, fuckin’ bitch. Just keep on milking me, since this is all sooo fucking normal.
A/N: Hey there, so this is actually the last story from that original stockpile I had. Since then I've written a few more, but wanted to make a note of it.
Ever played a prank before? Mac had. Lots of times. It ran in the Grogan men DNA. Never mean or cruel, just things that would make both father and son laugh or give a good freight. That’s why Mac hid under his dad’s bed, there was enough space and behind the dresser was too obvious. The closet? Too uninventive. In truth, he had hidden everywhere at this point, but the bed just couldn’t be beat. Under the bed he could pop out, scare his dad and run out before he was caught. It was procedural at this point.
As he crawled under this time, getting into position, pajamas dragging on the wood floor, he spotted it. Laying there under his dad’s bed, on the opposite side of where his dad usually slept, was grey fabric. Mac grabbed at it but couldn't quite make it out. For all the talk his dad gave him about keeping a clean bedroom, it turned out his dad could be messy and forgetful too. He waited and listened. Didn’t sound like his dad was coming. He slowly got from under the bed to see the item in the light.
Underwear.
That was obvious, but it didn’t look like any underwear he’d seen. He wore briefs. His dad wore boxers. What was in his hands felt like briefs but looked like his dad’s boxers. As was a son’s right, he had rummaged through his dad’s drawers multiple times, whether playing or just being nosey. He’d never once spotted these. Did his dad keep them hidden? Well, Mac had seen them now. The longer he held the underwear, the more curious he got. What did it feel like to have them on? He had played in his dad’s boxers before; nothing special. But these felt different. Mac let his curiosity guide him, taking off his pajama bottoms to slide into them.
Once he got them on, Mac felt good, really good. Better than he ever did in his briefs and better than his dad’s boxers. He didn’t need to hold them up like he did with his dad’s boxers. The elastic waistband on them snapped to his waist even if the rest was roomy. A strange warmth flowed out from the underwear into him. There was a pop then a crack, Mac thought his dad was coming in, but the door was still closed. It wasn’t until his viewpoint was yanked up that he realized the sounds were coming from him. His body was changing—growing—rapidly. It started with a few inches in height, then got his muscles in on the action. Mac wasn’t just growing up; he was growing out. The drifting of his shoulders further started it, broadening his back allowing them to round as his traps grew stronger. Then his pecs bubbled out, spilling into the open, no longer one cohesive unit with the rest of his torso. His pajama shirt was split open, two tragic halves dangling on to his sides. It wasn't enough, abs ingrained their own importance onto his body further disrupting its unity for preference of grooves and divides.
The valley between Mac’s pecs grew deeper as his arms bulked, feeding directly from the shoulders. The pajama halves fell off. Light brown hair cropped up over his forearms and his legs’ and spine pushed him higher into the air. The same hair migrated to his legs before his thighs doubled, then quadrupled in size. His calves were no different, experiencing the same changes, expanding with newfound power. The change in his feet was undeniable, stretched across the floor, morphing into true heavy stompers, supporting his new weight. A tension in his neck released, a thickness had taken over. “GUH!” the first sounds of his new voice escaped. Far richer and deeper than any sound he made before. Mac’s face was restructured, soft and rounded features removed for solid harder edges. A beard emerged, dark brown chocolate, that swallowed up his lower jaw and upper lip and yet made his jawline appear all the harsher.
Then came the sudden pressure between his legs, as his cock filled out, with two weighted balls churning with seed behind it. Mac knew his cock wasn’t even hard, it just hung heavy, but it was more packed than anything he’d seen in his life. A pump of his butt gave his glutes the workout they needed to firm out to fruition. The hat and necklace appeared out of thin air. One second not there, the blink of an eye on his body as if they always belonged there. Mac stared at himself in the mirror. He was older. Even his thoughts were more complex. The strength of a man flowing through his veins. He looked it, he felt it. An older Mac, who still looked like himself but repackaged as a man. He didn’t resemble his father as much as he would have expected. Rather, he looked more like…Mrs. Derabond’s nephew: Tony.
Mrs. Derabond lived two houses down and would sometimes ask her nephew to do chores for her. He was a young handy man, between his late 20's and early 30’s, often taking on odd jobs for her. Mac’s dad had once asked him for help with their own house and the man agreed to help out. They were close in age and got on well.
There were thoughts and memories swirling around in Mac’s head. Were they new or old? And a different face when his eyes looked in the mirror.
Images and flashes of his dad and Tony making out, winding up in bed together, multiple times. And this last time Tony was in such a scramble to respond to his aunt, he left his underwear at the side of Mr. Grogan’s bed, accidentally kicking it under on his way out. Mac was in Tony’s underwear, not his father’s.
The bedroom door opened as Mr. Grogan stepped inside, freezing upon seeing the Tony-sized Mac in his room. The father didn’t look angry or scared; he just curiously pointed. “You’re one of Tony’s friends.” he gestured to the hat and necklace. “Did he set this up? I thought he said tomorrow.”
“Set this up, kinda.” Mac said with a gruff voice. “By not picking up his stuff!” his thoughts finished.
“Shoot, I don’t know how long we have before my son gets up.” His dad poked his head out of the bedroom, then came back in and locked the door. “We should have time.”
“Wha—
His father’s lips were upon Mac’s own. The man’s tongue dove inside Mac’s mouth. Mac’s eyes widened, but his tongue already knew what to do. Tony’s skills had imprinted onto him and were going into action. His dad’s hands landed on Mac’s back and migrated to the small of his waist, pulling him in closer. Their cocks brushed against each other, his dad’s cock inflated rapidly and Mac’s wasn’t far behind. It was like acing dance moves to a song he’d never heard.
Mac had never seen this side of his dad before. There was happy, playful, disappointed, sad, and of course the twins stern & strict. This was ‘ready to fuck’. His dad grabbed the back of the underwear pulling them down, just below the cleft, so he could knead the cheeks like dough out in the open. Mr. Grogan’s hands, still larger than Mac's, easily grabbed a large portion of the glutes.
No space was left between their bodies. His dad’s chestnut chest hair pressed into Mac’s supple smooth pecs. A tickling sensation as four mounds of muscles competed with each other. Mac’s beard, one he didn't have—couldn’t grow—seconds ago, brushed against his father's beard and enticed Mac for more. This was how his dad and Tony preluded their escapades prior, and yet as Mac and his father existed in the space, something new was taking shape: evolving. His dad’s kiss became more tender, less hasty. The hands on Mac’s ass slid up to wrap around his back. There was no rush for time, they had all the time. Their story wasn’t one of a backed-up single father trying to dump his nut in the neighborhood stud. It was similar, but not close.
They opened their eyes at the same time. Lips parting under his father’s lead. Mr. Grogan looked at the man in front of him; his thought process was clear as day. A kiss that started like Tony’s had morphed into something more: Mac’s own. Mac could sense the change within himself too, but more importantly, he saw the lust in his father’s eyes, not vanish, but giving way to a soft look of love. His dad rested his fingers on Mac’s beard, a gentle placement and brushing. “You know, I didn’t get your name…”
“Dad,” Mac let out.
“Dad?” Mr. Grogan blinked. “Oh, so you’re into that? Okay, no names, I can work with it.” The man nodded his head, as if assuring himself. He walked over to the bed, pulled down his pajamas, kicked them off to the side, then sat down, legs spread, cock hard. He patted his thighs: An invitation. Mac slowly walked over and once close, his dad reached out and dragged him in by the front waistband of his underwear. Then his father yanked the underwear down fully. A beautiful fat cock twitched in the air, balls nested perfectly underneath as heavyweights, surrounded by a brown bush.
Mac saw how his cock was very much like his dad’s, huge lengths. The only difference came from Tony’s contributions. While his dad had decent mass, Mac’s cock looked overfed, girth more akin to a small arm. His dad placed his foot on the gray boxer briefs, which allowed Mac to step out of them. “Come here, son.” Mac climbed onto his dad’s lap, not speaking. Lips found each other as their tips met. Just two men kissing, and one sex organ meeting its progenitor. Mr. Grogan placed Mac’s hand on their cocks. Warm flesh that felt pleasurably scorching under another’s gaze.
“You got a nice cock boy, looks like Daddy’s.” Mr. Grogan whispered, kissing his way up Mac’s neck. A bead of precum leaked out of his father’s cock and slicked them both. They kissed more. The man gave a small laugh, pulling away for a bit, “Sorry, your dad’s making things a bit messy here.” The precum was still going, Mac’s cock was getting soaked. “Let dad, take care of you.” He had Mac sit up on his knees over his lap. Mr. Grogan opened his mouth and took his son’s length inside him. Mac jerked when his dad’s tongue lashed against the underside of his cockhead. His dad moaned loudly once he got his mouth further down. A real struggle, compared to Tony’s mainly girthy cock. His dad was determined though and kept going swallowing more dick.
“Oh, fuck me dad…” Mac’s legs wobbled.
Mr. Grogan pulled off with a wet plop, “Oh, I intend to, but first.” This time he sank back down and went to the bush, throat opened, as Mac’s hand rested on his head. His dad’s hands gripped Mac’s muscle ass as Mr. Grogan force fed himself Mac’s cock. The sensation beat out every single memory Mac had of his dad sucking Tony. His father had never been this kind of cock hungry before. The man was slurping like his mouth depended on it. Mac watched in total awe of his dad, and when his dad looked up with those warm brown eyes at Mac, he lost it. Like Tony before him, Mac erupted inside of his dad’s throat. His cum escaped in multiple shots, as his dad moaned at the taste.
Making an unknowing show of swallowing his own grandkids all down, Mr. Grogan licked his lips “Fucking delicious.” He pulled off, kissing the cock head. “Look at this fat fuck, baby boy. Not even soft.” He lightly slapped the dick, as Mac writhed, before burying his face in Mac’s pubes and licking his balls. The cum factories were under a glorious attack by their father’s tongue, compelling them for more. They had more to give and then some, having been empowered to mimic Tony’s own big cum-filled stud balls. But Tony wasn’t here right now, and Mac could tell his dad didn’t even mind it.
Mr. Grogan warped his arms around Mac’s waist, before falling back with Mac on top of him, both laughing. An instinctual casual air had taken over, no thoughts about sons, or annoying aunts to run down the clock. Just the feeling that everything they needed was right in that room. When Mr. Grogan was ready; he flipped their bodies, so he was on top, with Mac underneath him. Their bodies ended up pressed together, with Mac’s legs around his dad’s strong build.
“We're really about to do this, son?” Mr. Grogan said for the roleplay as his cock opened Mac’s ass. The man’s furry dad tits bounced for distraction, as his dick made a new home in Mac’s insides. Memories were great and all but actually taking his dad’s cock was another beast entirely. A member that happy fucked its way inside a new partner. Mr. Grogan’s lips found Mac’s mouth again as they made out. It took Mac a moment to register that alongside the coffee, the other taste in his dad’s mouth was Mac’s cum. The young man’s orgasm built up like a rushing wave as his father thrusted. Each pound, reminding Mac, his dad was about to deposit his brothers inside him. Mr. Grogan hadn’t grabbed a condom; he ALWAYS grabbed a condom. But for this, his mind didn't think about it. Mac saw the realization hit his dad in real time, unable to stop the thrust of his hips. The look sent Mac over the edge and his cock nutted mercilessly between them.
“Look at me, making my son cum like a hose.” he growled, but then stopped as the grip of Mac’s ass began to milk for what it was rightfully owed. Mr. Grogan collapsed, flooding Mac’s insides.
A few minutes later both men laid in bed naked, facing each other. Warm smiles of satisfaction were plastered on their faces. Mac had his hand on his father’s chest, tracing to his arms as Mr. Grogan was stroking Mac's cock, which was hard once again.
“You and Tony are like the energizer bunnies.” The man laughed as he toyed with the dick, “But I’ll be honest Tony and I never had an experience like that. Usually, it’s a struggle to see how much time we have. I couldn’t think about anything else but getting inside you.” He fondled the plump balls, “Maybe next time, you can get inside me?” He reached over and slapped Mac’s ass before caressing it. Then he slowly got out of bed, “I have to go see if my son’s awake, strange I haven’t heard from him.” Bending over to step into his pajamas, he plucked the gray underwear from the floor. “Huh, I think Tony has a pair just like these.” He looked up and narrowed his eyes “Is that weird? He’s not your cousin or anything, right?”
“Definitely not,” Mac said, still feeling the cool drool of his unborn siblings out his ass.
“So, now can I get your name?” Mr. Grogan arched an eyebrow tossing the underwear over. Mac caught it in the air.
“My name’s Mac.”
“Mac?” Mr. Grogan leaned forward, “That’s funny, that’s my son’s name.” He began walking to his door then froze. He turned and took another look at the man in his bed. Recognition lit in his Mac’s eyes, no doubt now seeing his own familiar features on the other man, “MAC?!?!”
“Hey…Dad.” The older Mac said, too well fucked to properly emote. He just dangled Tony’s underwear, gesturing if they weren’t his.
The understanding of what happened dawned on Mr. Grogan. No words were said. He stood in silence for a moment. Then his pajama bottoms began to rise in the crotch as he stepped away from the door, and slowly sauntered back to bed, where Mac laid
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.
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.
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.
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…
"Hey Richard is that you?"
Richard sighed, he had only just sat on the couch with a beer after a very long day and his roommate Trent was already bothering him. "Yep who else would it be?"
Trent lumbered in and starting digging around in his waistband, his huge biceps flexing as he rooted around. Richard grimaced and wondered what he was doing, to tell the truth they hadn't really spent much time together, they had become roommates out of convience not friendship. Richard needed another person to rent the apartment, his sister was friends with Trent who also needed a place. They had been courteous to each other but it turns out they had nothing in common. Richard was a data analyst who spent more of his day on a computer and in his free time gaming, while Trent was all about fitness and sports. Richard was careful with money and Trent had been short on the rent the last three weeks that was until today when Trent finally fished out a large wad of cash from the back of his jeans.
"Here you are bro, all the money I owe and the next 3 months worth of rent paid up in advance. Hope you don't mind me paying now, you know how I can be with money" Trent smiled and then rubbed the back of his head anxiously
Richard was shocked as he took the money, there was well over 4,000 in the stack, how had he made so much money? "Wait Trent, you made all this? I thought you only started this new job like two weeks ago?"
"haha yeah, it pays really well!" Trent said proudly
"You will have to get me a job there! This is more than I make in two months and you made it in two weeks!" Richard said enviously.
Trent put his hands on his hips "I don't think you'd like it bro, I think you're too smart for what I do, it doesn't take a lot of brainpower!" Trent laughed "Oh crap is that the time bro? I need to get to work." Trent then turned away and grabbed a duffel bag by the door.
"Are you really not going to tell me where you work?" Richard yelled after Trent while standing up to look at his leaving roommate and only a received a dumb chuckle in response. Richard then looked back down at the cash on the table and deeply jealous he made a wish. "Damn I wish I worked with Trent, bet I could earn even more money than him." Richard scoffed, his tone thick with arrogance.
Richard was about to go back to sitting and drinking his beer when suddenly his body felt hot and he was filled with a burst of almost euphoric energy.
Richard felt strange, like he could run a marathon or lift a car! His t-shirt and shorts suddenly then started to feel tight and as he looked down he could have sworn his body looked bigger, that his arms looked more toned and that his stomach looked flat.
Richard then started to panic as the more he looked the more his body did seem to be growing bigger, stunned Richard watched as pectorals started to swell from his chest, his little belly faded away and the beginnings of a six pack started to appear. His biceps grew rounder and a thick veins started to snake down his arms. His legs thickened with muscles as his thighs started to touch and definition started to appear all over them. His shorts were rapidly shrinking as his size increased and soon Richard heard the straining and tearing of thread. Richard would have thought he looked great if the growth wasn't so sudden and terrifying and unstoppable.
Richard groaned as his muscles and body continued to swell and grow. His pectorals were now rounder and more prominent, while his six pack looked like it has been chiseled into stone. His legs almost seemed to double in size changing his stance to accomodate the massive amount of muscle that continued to grow. Richard looked down frightened at his arms as his biceps became cannonballs and with his triceps quickly following his arms would now never comfortable sit be his sides ever again. Richard winced as his shirt ripped along his back as he grew in height and width becoming a monster of muscle on par with a bodybuilder. Until finally his shirt could not hold on any longer and the tattered remains fell away, while his shorts were almost wedgied up his new musclar ass cheeks, the tight fabric threatening to cut off his circulation.
Richard stood stunned as he looked at his new big hands and the massive muscles that covered every inch of his body, he had to weigh at least 300 pounds of pure muscle. His torso looked like it had been sculpted by the gods, his thighs and calves looked bigger than any human he had ever seen and his arms felt like they could punch through metal. Richard had no idea why his body had suddenly erupted with muscle, did he need to call for an ambulance? But before Richard could think of doing anything else, a searing pain then ran down his left arm, like a million tiny pin pricks running backwards and forwards over it all. Richard grabbed at his arm to try and find the source of his pain but couldn't see what it was but as he looked closer he could have sworn he saw something appearing on his skin, was that a rainbow?
Richard was so utterfly confused and terrified that he froze, he watched in horror as bright, gay, rainbow tattoos appeared all the way down his arm. Richard at first tried to rub them away like they were fake but he soon found the ink was deep and permanently part of his skin and it seemed that wasn't the only addition to his new jacked body. With a wince Richard felt pain in both of his ears as he quickly reached up to find two diamond stud earrings. This was followed by a painful plucking sensation in his eyebrows and burning of his scalp, turning to the mirror he now saw his new thin, styled eyebrows and bleach blond hair. Richard then let out a scared whimper as his skin darkened from his face all the way to his toes giving a deep rich tan. He now looked like a completely different person, like some flamboyant, gym obsessed fairy!
Richard then bcame even more scared as the familiar, horrifying heat of transformation returned but this time it wasn't in his whole body, it was only in his chest, it was only his pecs.
Richard grabbed at them as they started to grow and push outwards, he tried to push them back in but this made them only expand faster and further. The two mounds of muscles soon became moutains, a massive shelf that blocked Richards view of the floor and his feet. The muscles now took up most of his torso and look comically huge!
When they finally stopped growing Richard couldn't believe the size of his pectorals, they were bigger than most women's tits! Why was this happening to him!?
Richard knew he needed help, he needed to find a doctor or a scientist anyone to explain and reverse his sudden growth but as he turned to the door the heat returned and again it remained in one place. Richard felt like crying as he felt the burning heat warming from his new muscular, giant butt.
Richard felt at his butt cheeks, they were already ginormous there was no way they could get any bigger, but Richard was soon proved wrong as each cheek began to bloat and inflate.
Richard felt tears pricking at his eyes as he felt his ass cheeks balloon with muscle and fat. Each cheek grew outwards and kept its perfect peachy shape. Richard winced in pain as his shorts were driven further into his ass crack the larger his butt became, crushing his cock and balls in the front.
When the heat finally left his butt, Richard was left with a mammoth sized booty, one that would become rock hard when flexed but when relaxed would wobble and jiggle endless, drawing all eyes towards it.
Richard put his hand on his head in distress as he desparately tried to work out what was happening and why it was happening, he couldn't leave the apartment like this! He looked ridiculous, his giant pecs and ass made him look like some exaggerated gay cartoon character! Richard needed to find his phone he needed to call for help but before he could his clothes begun to shimmer and change.
It started with his feet when he felt himself raise up from the ground a couple of inches and as he looked down he saw a pair of large, bright white sneakers had appeared, along with his socks changing from black to white and inching up past his ankles. Then his shorts, they remained tight and form fitting, leaving nothing to the imagination but turned from black to bright orange, making sure to grab everyone's attention so no one could ignore his humungous bouncing booty. Then to finish his new look a white crop top appeared just above his chest, leaving his new massive muscle tits to hang out the bottom.
Some text was written across the crop top along with what looked like an owl but before Richard could read it the world around him seemed to blur as his surroundings started to change and came back into focus in a new location. There was music, the smell of food, people, tables, drinks, Richard then realised he was holding a tray of burgers and fries and two bearded muscular men sat in front of him, smiling, waiting.
"Hello? Earth to Dicky! Is that our food?"
"Oh you are such a dumb blonde Dicky! Just put it down already"
Richard shook his head as they called him Dicky and then out of his mouth came words that he didn't consent to, words he didn't want to say. "Sorry babe's I can be such a ditz!" Richard's voice was high pitched and slutty as he placed down their food while giving them a big dumb smile.
Before he walked away Dicky stuck out his massive rear, where the two men happily stuffed in their dollars bills and gave his big ass a spank. "Thank you suga, y'all need anything else you just holla" Dicky said in a perky, bubbling, charming way before mincing away.
Richard then felt himself clawing for control, driving Dicky down just so he could be back in the driving seat. What the hell was happening! Richard managed to stop himself in the middle of the restaurant, he looked at the wall 'Himbo Hooters', he looked at his uniform and the other men serving food and drinks, it was then he spotted someone familiar and Richard practically ran to them across the room.
"Trent!!"
Richard raced over to Trent who greeted him with a smile.
"Oh hey Dicky, I didn't know you were doing a double shift today! But you'd be silly not too, with that ass and those big ole titties you always rake in the most cash!" Trent said while giving Richard nipples a little tweak. It was at that moment that Richard realised why this had all happened, why he was a gay man's wet dream, why he was dressed in this uniform and why Trent was in front of him. He wished to work here and not only that but to earn more that Trent and now he would as this big slutty muscle freak with a giant ass and big juicy muscle tits.
"Aww Dicky why'd you look so glum? I know what will cheer you up." Trent then turned around a slapped a big red button, the restaurant's lights lowered, disco lights started flashing and a bassline thumped loudly across the restaurant. "Dance break!" Trent shouted and all the waiters began to dance and gyrate. Richard knew it was wrong, that he didn't want this, that he didn't want to be paraded like some piece of meat to be squeezed and leered at by men, but that's not what Dicky wanted. Richard screamed as he felt his body begin to dance without his consent, his mind sinking into a swamp as Dicky took control and started dancing and shaking his fat ass and titties much to all the cheers of the many horny men in the restaurant.
Richard was gone and all that left was dancing, ditzy Dicky and his best mate Trent.
Constantly annoyed by his androgyny, David stumbles onto a spam ad that leads to his first facial hair and unknowingly condemns his latest overly masc ex to the twinkdom he's leaving behind.
Pretty standard role swap/masc theft! Twinky bottom to hairy top though much of the opposite changes happen off screen. At any rate, hope you enjoy this tale of Twink Theft! -Occam
And so began the same argument that has led to the end of each and every one of David’s previous relationships. Sure, he knows he’s beautiful. Angelic many of his one night stands and observers from afar frequently point out. He’s a model by default and his face card is perfect bait for men to just fall at his feet.
David frequently finds himself with men almost stereotypically masculine, alpha bros and DL hoes are always drawn to his androgyny. But rarely do they ever consider anything but his looks. When the cherubic man can no longer hold back his ire at being considered just a pretty face they fight and then abandon him for some other waifish twink. Leaving him feeling like nothing more than a soft-skinned doll for them to play with and abandon.
Curled up in the passenger seat of his current horndog fling’s car, David looks from underneath his tangle of perfectly coiffed curls as Mattias just stares down the open road. Glancing at the hairy jungles covering the man’s torso and pits, David yearns to feel the scratch of hair against his body. The closest thing he can ever experience to growing it himself.
For half a moment the model believes that perhaps Mattias is reflecting, thinking about their argument. Considering David’s point of view at all. When a hand drifts to adjust a bulge clearly visible in his pants it’s clear there’s only one thing on his mind. And David is certainly not going to let that happen tonight.
“You’re not even listening.”
“Shiiiit, I mean c’mon babe. Be serious. You couldn’t even grow facial hair if you tried. I just dunno why you’re being such a lil bitch about it.”
Bony arms hugging his long legs, draped with pants he purloined from a shoot, David feels a fire burning within him. He’s not even been allowed to try. His agency would can him on the spot. Staring at the small mustache decorating Mattias’ upper lip he reaches to feel his own smooth, soft face. He’s going to try.
“I don’t care what you think, I’m going to stop waxing. Keep complaining, see what else I might decide to try. Asshole.”
Eyes flitting to his passenger, Mattias reaches over to feel David’s inner thigh. “So, uhhh, that means we’re not-”
“Fuck off you horny fucking- Spend half an hour thinking about anything but my ass and maybe, maybe I won’t lose your number.”
Clicking his tongue, Mattias throws his head against his headrest and starts rerouting to drop David off at his home. Sure that his dick is anything worth craving he assumes David’ll come crawling back to him by the end of the week, femme-er than ever. Smirking as he nods farewell to the man, he imagines soft hairless cheeks bouncing on him come Tuesday and quickly redownload Grindr to try and satisfy his still throbbing cock.
Watching yet another mindless jerk abandon him to his insecurities, David is of a different mind. This time it’s going to be different. As soon as the tail lights of Mattias’ shit box are out of sight, David begins his research.
It’s not long at all before David comes across a targeted ad. Formatted like any other, on the left there’s a twink that the model swears he’s seen before, on the right is a perpetually bear-faced man. Face overgrown with itchy stubble and capstoned by a burly mustache that makes David’s mouth water.
Averse to cumming in his pants from a spam-ad, David does his best to stop imagining the twink’s journey to become the hairy hunk opposite him. He can just picture the bleach blonde hair giving way to that ruddy brown as his hairline retreats. Stubble growing so quickly it’s not even worth trimming. David bites his lip to stop from imagining his bulky figure out of frame.
Trailing past both the familiar ditzy twink’s lolling tongue and the alluring garden of chest fur on his alleged new self, David reads the caption. ‘How I became a man with ONE simple trick’
Rather than inviting whatever malware hides behind this jpeg onto his system, David scrawls through his instagram hoping against hope that he does actually know this man. Lo and behold he miraculously finds him, though as of late the twink’s has been dry.
Refusing to acknowledge the reality that this ad probably just stole an image from this mystery model’s account, David prepares to cold-DM this man he doesn’t really know. Desperate to feel the way he has always craved, desperate to change, he types his message:
‘Hey Hi! Peyton right? Funny thing :P I just found an ad of u and this like,,, lumberjackey otter? U know anything about this?’
Within the minute the man replies:
‘lmaooo ya thas me dude so u wanna fucc or what?’
Shocked at the bizarre response, there are a few false starts before David lands on a message. While he certainly wouldn’t be opposed to getting fucked by the man on the right, his eyes are on the prize of being more like him than anything else.
‘Ahhhh unfortunately I was more just wondering about the trick the ad mentioned. Like,, is that real? Surely thats like a joke huh?’
Across town and annoyed at the boner that won’t be satisfied now that Peyton knows what David wants, the hirsute horndog whines and starts absentmindedly playing with his cock as he prepares to offer David the route to join him. Much like David’s string of horny tops, he’s slightly disappointed for the world to lose such a pretty boy, but he would never stand between someone who wants to join him in his most-masculine form.
And he knows it’s not the only change to erupt from David’s ascension.
‘its easy brother just click the link and type the guys name in’
‘The guy?’
‘the dude who made u feel like shit lil bro sumone u want to take down a peg’
Obeying the strange man’s prescription, David takes a deep breath before clicking the ad to find nothing but a small empty text box. Left with nothing to go off besides the man’s words, David pictures the most recent jerk to wrong him.’
Imagining Mattias’ sneer as David explained the pain he feels when he looks in the mirror, the mustache twitching with his lips is impossible to ignore. He yearns to just rip it off the man’s face and put it on his own. David quickly types his name into the box. And nothing happens.
MATTIAS
Worried he’s fallen for some phishing scam or at the very least made a fool of himself, David quickly hits his keyboard to ask for next steps from Peyton:
‘What now?’ … ‘Hello, you there? I typed his name in’ … ‘K. Well thanks for nothing’
After spamming the man who got him this far with a few more dms, unaware that the man has simply muted his notifications to quickly masturbate, David refuses to be awake any longer and falls into his bed. Tomorrow he’ll be over it. It’ll be just another day. He’ll go to a shoot, pose, go home, do his regimen, and then go to bed again.
Sinking into his mattress, David stares at his ceiling. Dimly lit by the computer monitor left on he swears he can see Mattias’ cocky face watching him. After a blink he sees his own, gaunt and smooth, like carved marble.
Seeing his face reflected in the funhouse mirror of his mind’s eye, David doesn’t know when sleep overtakes him. When he begins to dream about the man he is going to be, a small smile twitches across his sleepful lips as the slightest itch begins to burn atop them.
The changes he finds in the morning are already too drastic to outright explain, if he could notice anything new besides the slight but unmistakable new mustache, that is. Fingertips instantly poking against the adamant new prickles decorating his face, David rushes to the bathroom to find his new reflection.
Quickly tearing out his phone to get permanent proof of his first facial hair beyond peach fuzz, David is ignorant to how his messy ringlets retracted into the spiky new fade that crowns his slightly retracted hairline.
So focused on the new lip candy as to miss this most prominent of changes, the many more minute alterations absolutely breeze past the excitable new man. Staring at the stubble promising future growth on his chin, he doesn’t notice the rougher hands holding up his phone or the ruddier complexion covering his face.
Underneath the shirt he fell asleep in the first steps of body hair begin to slowly prickle out. Struggling in a biome designed to prevent regrowth, David’s lasered chest and perma-waxed pits tingle as the first brave new curls begin the first steps towards a total rout of his smooth twinkish form.
Unable to do anything but grin as he delights in the first glimpse of a life and body he never truly saw for himself, David rushes to thank Peyton for putting him onto that strange site. He can’t believe all it took was some manifestation! Funny how a stupid little text-box prompt could be so helpful!
Blissfully unaware of the ocean of changes brewing beneath his skin, David is waylaid by a handful of notifications. Grin turning to a smirk as he imagines it’s his manager on his ass for being late to a shoot; little does he know he’s got a far bigger surprise in store. Scratching at the barely noticeable itch in his pits, his fingers free the musk that had been baking all night under his heavy shirt.
Half-preparing to send the selfie he took to the man who fought for him to stay femme more than anyone else, David instead finds the handful of texts are from his personal trainer. Of course he’s had one since he was brought on by his agency, but reading the handful of missed messages, David is thrown for a loop.
As far as he could remember their routines have always been on keeping him lithe. Maintaining his stick thin figure. Ensuring his cortisol stays low at any cost. To see message after message tearing into David for not taking strength training and bulking up seriously completely derails his train of thought.
Something deep within his chest turns at the idea and without even changing into something more appropriate for the gym, David tears out the door and sprints to his trainer’s side. With every step further from his austere apartment, his body continues to adapt to its new status quo.
Calves designed to be draped with baggy pants burst with muscle as each rushing pace springs with more strength. Working from increasingly strained shoes upward, his calves begin to blanket with a soft garden of hair. Burgeoning curls tug at the air soaring by as they yearn to connect with the thickening patch of pubes surrounding a permanent-semi that David is struggling with as he continues his heady jog.
Before he even arrives at the gym he has already become an altogether different man. The step-above-peachfuzz mustache that languished on his face when he woke up has continued to thicken and now hangs entirely over his upper lip. Across his whole body his bony figure has continued to fill out from the exertion of his sprint to the gym.
Biceps bulge onto his thin arms as they cut through the morning air on his run. Sleeves of a shirt not designed to be within a city-block of a gym are quickly strained as dark stains under his burgeoning shoulders show the beginnings of his tangled pits seeding proof of their existence.
Smelling the unpleasant odor of his morning breath joining the aura of body odor steaming in his wake, David feels his underwear strain as his hips readjust and grow mid stride. Panting like a dog he moans from soreness burning as new muscle strands thicken and bulge onto his powerful limbs.
Filled with gratitude greater than he can understand to the man who ushered him into this ecstatic change, he once more goes to message Peyton only to find a plethora of new messages from none other than Mattias.
‘What did you fucking do to me you bitch.’
Absolutely no idea what that’s about, David stares dumbfounded at the screen before his attention span in high-demand is summoned by his trainer as he bumbles into the gym, late. “You ready to go or what princess?” Butterflies in his stomach quiver at the words, he’s not a princess anymore. And he’s going to prove it to Mattias, his trainer, and anyone else who gets in his way.
His chest burns with a need to grow as he makes his way over to a bench. The act of laying down alone causes his thin chest to bulge larger. The buttons that always hung loosely on his sternum fly off into the gym as pecs fill his sweat-stained shirt to its breaking point before sending lancing tears further down his chest.
Through each new open seam and widening hole, the hidden hair prickling across David’s torso makes itself known. Having expanded well beyond a paltry patch connecting a handful of curls swirling around his formerly petite nipples, the swath of tangled jungle covering his bulging pecs races to make itself seen. His growing chest aids in this as the single button still feigning modesty on his shirt bursts free to reveal the curls climbing towards his neck.
Feeling the pump of growth, his heart racing, David grunts and groans as torso firms and expands to compete with his strengthening limbs and eye-catching chest. Quickly filling the shirt like rising dough in a tin, David barely holds back a horny scream as he feels the fabric tear to shreds off his body.
Standing nearby for obvious reason, David’s trainer simply stares blankly as his once doelike ward has grown into a stag. Watching as his face prickles with thicker stubble surrounding his gritted teeth, staring as arms that he swears were to be deliberately untouched thicken and trail with veins, the trainer has a burning urge to keep him here in the gym as long as possible.
To this end he reaches up to usher David to the next machine, opting to reach for the small of the man’s back for lusty greed alone, he bites his lip as he feels the beginnings of his trainee’s ass hair creeping up towards his shoulders. Unlike the still perma-poised David, the trainer doesn’t quite quiet a whimper from feeling up his sweaty back. “Mhhmm~”
Shocked to hear as much from someone David would’ve sworn was straight, David turns in surprise to stare at his visibly horny trainer. Blush paints the broish man’s cheeks and the twitching package he can’t hide makes it clear he’s certainly not red in the face from his own scant workout.
Stepping away David watches as his needy hands fall away. Gulping with need, there’s surely a part of the hitherto professional trainer that knows there is something strange alluring him to David, but when he sees the growing man’s bicep twitch even larger his train of thought has no recourse but to pull out all the stops to keep him close.
David knows he’s hot stuff, and this wouldn’t be the first time he’s gotten googoo eyes from a ‘straight man,’ but something’s off. Scratching his head he feels how his hair texture has shifted. As clear as he feels itchy tufts of thick hair in his pits rubbing the sides of his chest as he moves his arm, his thicker fingers feel hair that is both thicker and thinner than it should be.
Texture more akin to fur than the downy curls he once had, in real time he feels what’s left of his model’s do retract into a tight and rough buzz. Memories of a hair routine before bed every night dissolve to be replaced by David just rolling into a barber and getting the most basic cut they have to offer.
Glancing towards his trainer he feels something profound shift within his chest. He’s used to attention sure, but having a truly masc man stare at him with needy jealousy has awoken something within him. His own cock twitches and he reaches down to adjust it. When the trainer’s needy eyes follow David’s hand his newfound cockiness only grows.
He can almost feel the thick hair coating his chest thicken as his adorer’s mouth falls open in need. He does feel the cock that he’s only recently begun to fondle grows even more, only a semi thus far if David didn’t know any better he’d swear it was already larger than the most turgid erection he’s ever had.
Having humored the man enough, Dave feels a profound urge to play with his food for just a second longer before dipping. Glancing at the muscular figure he’s always admired he doesn’t feel nearly the same heat that the trainer evidently has for him. Feeling his phone still blowing up in his back pocket he’s reminded he’s got a bitch- er, he’s still got Mattias to deal with.
To point he challenges his trainer.
“What’s the problem with you?”
Sheepishly the trainer averts his eyes from the center of Dave’s chest where the hair is so thick that one truly can only guess that there’s skin beneath. Halfheartedly pointing to the next machine he viscerally feels any authority he once had over Dave slip away.
“Just let me go.”
Knowing deep within himself that this is profoundly wrong, that the twink he was hired to keep fit and keep femme has grown into a man like he’s never seen, when Dave pushes past him towards the exit of the gym the only thing he can do is giggle from feeling his sweaty skin against his own. Dave doesn’t even look back as he stomps out of the gym, hairy feet exposed as the tennis shoes he had on finally give way to the massive stompers this top heavy body requires.
Left behind, the trainer feels lightheaded as the source of his confusion leaves him be. Slightly worried he’s going to get chewed out for something out of his control, by the time Dave pulls out his phone and begins walking towards Mattias’ he doesn’t even remember having Dave as a client. It’s not like his employers had any interest in fashion for men who think deodorant is optional.
Finally free from the gym, Dave allows the asshole blowing up his phone some attention. Every message is whinier than the one that came before. Scrolling up to the first, Dave finds it the usual aggressive diatribe he’d expect from a man he chose explicitly for being a macho loser but with every step closer to the present his messages tinge with emotion.
“I no u did this u little bitch when i see u its over
“Look idk what I did but u need to stop it. Please I cant show up to my boys lookin like this”
“Fine, shit! Maybe I deserved it but you gotta stop. I don’t want to be some hairless twink.”
“Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease.”
Every message only makes the hunger within Dave grow. Reading Mattias beg and whine and cry only makes him feel more. Bigger, hairier, hornier. Each heavy step towards this man’s house hits harder as his thighs bulk up to support his widening chest and the thickening cock between them.
The mustache on his face thickens and hangs lower to cover the entirety of his upper lip. The dense thicket on his pecs decides it’s not enough as thick curls launch towards his shoulders and musty pits. His midsection continues to thicken as the thin arrow of a treasure trail that once pointed to his tangled pubes widens to engulf the whole of his heavy new muscle gut.
Gym shorts he didn’t remember changing into are taut on his ass as it sends a couple tears straight down his ass crack, partly exposing his jockstrap and the dense tangles it struggles to corral to the open air. Dave can’t help but continue to read Mattias’ appeals as he grows. Thick vein bulging down his biceps as a coat of curls races down his muscular shoulders to meet the prodigious jungle on his forearms.
Grunting as he feels his cock strain the front of his shorts he wonders if he’s going to make it to Mattias’ without being criminally indecent. Seeing his thick cockhead near the lip of his shorts he finds Mattias’ most recent messages have switched their tune.
“I’ll fucking do anything babe please, anything but my cock.”
“I wish I had a cock like yours…
“God you’re so hot, I just wish I could be more like you…”
Doubletaking at the idea of this once vainer than life machismo obsessed douche yearning to be like him, less than a moment later Dave smirks and remembers his reality. Of course Mattias wants to be like him, who wouldn’t. The twink’s wrapped around his meaty finger just like anyone lucky enough to get to ride on his cock would be. Scratching his hairy gut he decides he wants to see his prize.
Deigning to reply at last, Dave just sends two words. ‘Facetime me’
Within a second Dave’s phone is ringing for Mattias. Seeing his old profile picture Dave can’t recognize the middling man before him. Nothing like the twink he knows and loves to fuck, still he lets the mystery man’s face stay on his phone for a moment longer to leave Mattias waiting. Offering the perfect juxtaposition between Mattias’ new and old self.
“Hey daddyyyy~ Are you coming over or what?”
Even the most powerful supernatural effect couldn’t stop Dave from being stunned in his tracks, shocked at the twink, jittery with need, now performatively shimmying on the facetime call. Staring at the pathetic remains of the mustache and goatee Mattias once prided himself over, Dave feels his cock twitch and drip with pre as it finally escapes his shorts.
Accidentally grabbing a few curls on his thigh as he yanks his shorts back down to poorly hide his throbbing rod, Dave grunts in pain which causes Mattias to gasp as his thicker lips purse into a pout. “Are you okay baby?”
His airy whine drives Dave into one final wave of changes as he grunts out a “Be right over. You’d better be ready.” Shorts almost shearing off his meaty thighs as he begins sprinting towards his lay’s home, Dave pants like an animal in heat as he feels everything about him grow more extreme. No inch of skin is spared as his coat spreads to cover every inch of his sweaty skin.
Swinging between his legs, Dave makes no attempt to hide his thick cock during his flight. Prioritizing speed above everything, his hairy feet do their best and miraculously the accidental nudist arrives at Mattias’ house with nothing but his hairy ass having been seen.
Stumbling into the front door, always left unlocked for him, Dave follows his nose to the floral scented bedroom and finds Mattias just where he wants him. Even thinner and smoother than he was on their call moments ago, Dave smirks at the pouf of manicured curls on his head and the pitiful few strands of hair clinging to his pits, the dregs of his masculinity.
Pouncing on the bed to straddle Mattias, he sees a sparkle in the twink’s eyes as his massive cock bounces hard in the air. Shocked at just how large it is compared to Mattias thin waist he rests upon the small man and rubs his smooth skin with hands rough from the gym and a life lived with altogether no attention to skincare.
Feeling his cock buck of its own accord as it spews viscous pre onto Mattias’ hairless chest, Dave experiences for the first time just how powerful it feels to be The Man in bed, in a relationship, in life. Give him a few seconds and he might just cum from the very feeling.
Doing his best to restrain quick-cumming he leans down to whisper in Mattias’ ear, he feels his mustache scratch the twink’s regimented cheek. “Get on your stomach and let’s get this started.” Blushing like he’d never have done before, what is Mattias to do but obey the sexiest man he’s ever been with.
In the sun-dappled glow of the Madrigal casita’s ornate inner chamber, vibrant patterned ceilings swirling with greens and golds overhead. Camilo stood proudly in Mariano Guzman’s towering form, every inch of his sweat-slicked skin gleaming like fresh oil under the warm light filtering through the tall windows. His massive pecs rose and fell with each slow breath, the thick slabs of muscle so swollen and round they jutted out obscenely, dark nipples stiffening into fat nubs as a bead of perspiration rolled down the deep valley between them.
“Mmm, Carlos… you’ve been staring at me like that for a while now, haven’t you? Desnúdame con la mirada cada vez que me veas caminando por la plaza.”
Camilo's voice already turned into Mariano’s rich, velvety baritone, his full lips curling into a lazy, teasing smirk while one thick hand lazily raked through his dark wavy locks, flexing the cannonball bicep until it peaked like a mountain. The motion made his enormous chest bounce heavily, the wet slap of flesh audible as sweat flew. Carlos swallowed hard, cheeks flushing deep crimson, his eyes glued to the hypnotic sway of those glistening man-tits.
Carlos shifted on his feet, the wooden floor creaking softly beneath him as he tried not to let his gaze drop lower to the ridiculous eight-pack abs glistening with rivulets of sweat that disappeared into the waistband of loose trousers already tenting obscenely from the thick bulge of Camilo’s borrowed cock.
“I-I don’t know what you mean, Camilo… or, uh, Mariano? This is so weird but… Mierda, you look exactly like him,” he stammered, voice cracking with nervous lust while his hands fidgeted at his sides. Camilo chuckled low and deep, the sound vibrating through his barrel chest as he took a deliberate step closer, the heat radiating off his pumped body like a furnace.
“Call me whatever feels right, Mi amor. I shifted just for you—felt every muscle swell bigger, thicker, this fat cock getting heavier between my thighs the second I thought of helping you out." His fingers brushed Carlos’s arm, leaving a slick trail of sweat that made the younger man shiver visibly. "Feel how real it is? You finally living your biggest fantasy, huh?”
The air grew thicker with the musky scent of Camilo’s transformed body, a potent mix of manly sweat and raw arousal wafting from his pits and the deep cleft of his pecs as he leaned in, his stubbled jaw brushing Carlos’s ear.
“Tu cuerpo está temblando, Carlos… but your eyes keep flicking back to these big, juicy tits of mine. Go on, touch them. I know you’ve been dying to since you asked me to become him for you,” Camilo whispered huskily, his breath hot and ragged, a soft ahhh escaping his lips as he arched his back to push those massive, sweat-drenched pecs forward invitingly.
Carlos’s hand trembled as it rose, fingertips grazing the warm, slippery skin right over one fat nipple, feeling it pebble harder under his touch with a wet schlick from the slickness.
“Holy shit… they’re so fucking huge and soft yet hard underneath,” Carlos breathed, voice thick with awe and hunger, his own cock twitching visibly in his pants.
Camilo groaned softly, the sound low and throaty like as Carlos’s palm pressed firmer into the yielding muscle, squeezing the heavy pec meat until it bulged between his fingers.
“That’s it, squeeze ‘em harder… fuck, feels so good having this body all pumped and sensitive like this. Every touch makes my nipples ache, my balls feel fuller, this fat Mariano dick throbbing for you already,” he growled, hips rolling forward so the thick outline of his hardening shaft nudged against Carlos’s thigh with a heavy thump. The room’s colorful rugs muffled their shuffling feet as Camilo’s free hand cupped the back of Carlos’s neck, pulling him closer until their chests nearly brushed, sweat transferring in sticky strands. Carlos moaned quietly,
“Mmm… you smell so fucking good, all manly and sweaty,” his fingers now kneading both pecs in slow, reverent circles, thumbs flicking the stiff nubs until Camilo’s breath hitched in a sharp “hahh!"
Sweat continued to pour down Camilo’s chiseled torso in shiny trails, tracing every ridge of his abs and pooling in the deep navel before soaking into the fabric below where his massive cock strained, the head already leaking precum that darkened the material with a growing wet spot.
“Keep playing with them, Carlos… pinch those fat nipples like you mean it. I can feel my whole body getting hotter—just for you,” Camilo urged, his voice dropping into a filthy purr as he flexed his entire upper body, making every muscle pop and dance under Carlos’s eager hands.
The wet squish-squish of palms sliding over oiled skin filled the air alongside their mingled breaths, Carlos’s face now buried against the valley of those heaving pecs, inhaling deeply with a muffled mmphhh of pure bliss. Camilo’s hand slid lower, tracing Carlos’s spine teasingly, fingers dipping just under his shirt hem.
Carlos pulled back just enough to look up into those dark, smoldering eyes, his lips parted and glistening as another bead of sweat from Camilo’s brow dripped onto his cheek. “I’ve wanted Mariano—wanted you like this—so bad… but feeling it for real, all this muscle and heat… it’s making me so fucking hard it hurts,” he confessed breathlessly, one hand still groping a massive pec while the other dared to slide down the slick abs, fingertips brushing the waistband where the thick root of Camilo’s cock pulsed visibly.
“Nngh… yeah? Then don’t stop, baby. Stroke it through the pants first—feel how thick and heavy Mariano’s dick is because of you, ahhhh…” Camilo sighed, the word stretching long and needy as Carlos obeyed, palm cupping the massive bulge and rubbing slow, firm circles that made the fabric stretch tauter. The obscene schlick-schlick of precum-slick cloth filled the quiet room, their bodies inching ever closer in the colorful light.
The chandelier above cast golden highlights across Camilo’s glistening shoulders and traps as he tilted his head back slightly, dark wavy hair falling messily while another deep groan rumbled from his chest—“fuuuuck, just like that… Me encanta muchísimo.”—his hips bucking lazily into Carlos’s hand with wet, rhythmic slaps of skin on fabric. Carlos’s own breathing grew ragged, cheeks burning as he squeezed the throbbing length harder, feeling every vein and the fat head flare under his grip.
“It’s so big… bigger than I imagined, and it’s twitching like it wants out already,” he murmured, voice husky with lust, free hand still mauling the heavy left pec until the nipple stood out like a dark cherry. Camilo’s eyes half-lidded in pleasure, a lazy smirk playing on his lips as sweat dripped from his chin onto Carlos’s upturned face.
“Then pull it out, Carlos… ¿Te atreves a hacer eso?" Camilo teased, voice thick with building lust, his free hand now running through his own hair.
A fun assignment- Muscle growth ai sequence and story
Alan and Mac stayed after class as instructed by their politics and economics professor. Alan shuffled awkwardly with his books trying not to look at the mountain that was Mac, the jock was huge in height, weight and muscle mass. Alan wrinkled his nose as he got a whiff of sweat and body odour that was radiating off of Mac, he couldn't believe that they even attended the same college, let alone the same class. How was it that such a dumb mountain of muscle was allowed to coast along while people like Alan studied day and night. Alan had just spent nearly two weeks solid in the library writing his report on the power of words of authority while he assumed Mac must have spent it in the gym.
Both men then turned to their professor, he beamed at them both. "Thanks for staying guys. I wanted to let you know that for the next assignment I'd like to pair you up for a debate. After reading both of your recent papers I think it would be enlightening for both of you to spend some time working together".
Alan almost gasped at the news but stopped himself.
Alan turned and sneered at Mac who instead grinned with delight. Of course he would be happy, he'd have a nerd to do all the work thought Alan before turning back to his professor and coming close enough to whisper.
"Please sir, is that really necessary? I don't have time to babysit some odorous gorilla."
The professor just looked down at Alan with a small amount shock and frustration "Yes. It will be good for both of you." the professor said sternly and turned and left leaving Alan alone with Mac once again.
"Odorous gorilla huh?" Mac said almost amused but with an undercurrent of anger. "I'll show you odorous"
Mac then proceed to grin like an idiot and bend over pushing his enormous muscular bubble butt directly towards Alan, the threading of his shorts ached as the massive muscle stretched it out to his limits. Alan had no time to react as Mac grunted and unleashed a booming, thunderous fart that blasted on for a strong 10 seconds before then bombarding Alan's senses with the concentrated scent of protein and ass.
Alan gagged as the smell assaulted him, the shock and disgust he felt soon turning to anger as Mac laughed at his own foul fart and Alan's pathetic reaction.
Alan was filled with rage as he pinched his nose which did nothing to get rid of the scent that now seem to stick to his nostrils and tongue. Alan's voice came out as almost a scream as the furiously little nerd dropped his books and pointed a the chuckling behemoth.
"You beast, you animal! You monsterous, smelly, dumb oaf! How the fuck did they let someone like you into college its a disgrace!" Alan said red in the face with fury.
However, Alan's fury quickly subsided as he looked at Mac who after being insulted was no longer laughing and instead now looked rather threatening and Alan realised he had just called a man twice his size a monster.
Mac then spoke into a loud commanding tone that instantly made Alan retreat into himself. "Monsterous? Dumb? Smelly? Is that all you think of me as? That's disappointing Alan, I was actually looking forward to working with you since we both got the highest grades on the last assignment."
Alan almost whisper "Highest?
"Yeah I found out some really interesting things when researching words of power and how they have been used in history. For example I learnt this neat little phrase -" Mac then took an deep inhale before then with a deep resonating shout said "ym eciov sdnammoc ym eciov si hturt"
Alan was confused by the jibberish and after standing in silence for a time finally asked "And what does that mean?"
Mac then grinned an almost sinster smile "It means that you will take off your glasses and smash them on the floor, you don't need them anymore."
Alan assumed it was just a threat, Mac's penance for Alan insulting him. Alan had no intention of smashing his glasses but then something odd happened, his hand moved without his consent and grabbed them from his face. Alan whimpered "Wait what's happening?!" confused as he dropped his glasses to the floor and raised his foot. "Stop! Why -crunch, smash, crunch"
Alan found himself violently stomping on his own glasses his body moving autonomously and without his control. When they were fully destroyed Alan found himself looking back up at Mac. He should have been blurry and hard to see but instead he was as clear as crystal, like he had never needed glasses in the first place.
Alan now more fearful look up at Mac's grinning handsome face and asked "How did you do that? Why did I just do that?"
Mac smiled "Words have power and those words have an awful lot of it." Mac then paused and folded his arms which made him look even more imposing. "Those words, they help me to command the truth, which is why you no longer need your glasses and it is also why you no longer dress like a dork and instead dress like a gym obsessed frat bro who loves attention."
Alan was still confused but then he felt a breeze on his legs and saw his trousers starting to shorten and his shoes turning bright yellow. Mac wasn't just commanding the truth, whatever he said became the truth! Alan looked down in horror as his modest button up shirt changed to yellow, its sleeves vanished and the fabric shrunk until only a ridiculously skimpy stringer tank remained. Alan's trousers became bright as they turned from boring grey to neon pink and then pulled themselves up past his knees up and to his thighs, leaving even more of his thin, pale, skinny body exposed to the world. Lastly were his shoes, the bright yellow covered them as they morphed into obscene sneakers that could be seen from a mile away. Alan could only look down in shock as Mac let out another chuckle at the skinny 100 pound nerd in the outfit of the most arrogant bodybuilder.
Mac grinned "You always dress like this even through the winter, you have to be noticed."
Alan then felt something in his brain change, a slight fuzz spread across his memories and now whenever he thought back he was dressed in similiar attire, every class he was in a tank top, even in the snow he was rocking the short shorts and his closet at home would blind him with the neon colours. Alan then looked at Mac was pure fear in his eyes, he hadn't just change his appearence here and now, no... he had changed his entire past and his memories!
Alan turned to Mac and started begging "I'm sorry Mac! I am sorry I didn't want to work with you, I am sorry I called you names, I am sorry that I assumed you were just a an idiot jock! Please just change things back, please just let me go!"
For a moment Mac's expression softened and for a second he considered letting Alan go and living the rest of his life in his new ridiculous outfits but then Alan's insults came back to him and his smile deepened.
"Monsterous...dumb...smelly oaf. Very unkind words I have to say Alan...but words that describe you perfectly."
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" Alan screamed as suddenly his whole body felt like it was on fire as his muscles started to flex and itch and swell. Alan winced in pain as his bones started to lengthen and his height increased pushing him upwards. His arms and legs ached as muscle began to grow and expand, his thin torso widened as abs and pectorals began to form as Alan started on his journey to jockdom.
Alan was terrified as the heat inside him then seemed to double as every muscle in his body grew expontially larger and his entire frame grew wider and more unwieldy. Alan looked down and saw his chest grow two large, plump, round pectorals that jutted out like a shelf, each one then flexed and bounced involuntarily. Alan groaned as his torso quickly sported a six pack which very quickly turned into an eight pack as his whole torso soon looked like had had been sculpted from marble. Alan then saw his biceps balloon as thick veins came to surface of his muscles and his biceps grew to the size of cannonballs. While his legs and thighs thickened and soon rubbed together due to their sheer size. What's more behind Alan his once flat pale ass had grow into a shapely round, perfect peach that was hugged delicately by his tight workout shorts, showing it off to everyone who would walk by. Alan now had the body of a gym bunny but still the heat increased inside him.
With one more painful burst of heat and energy Alan felt every part of him grow as his legs, torso and arms all grew in size. Alan looked at Mac pleadingly as he grew to match the jock's eye line and then kept going higher until he was three inches taller than Mac. When the heat finally subsided Alan was taller, heavier and more muscular than Mac, he had to be at least 6'5 and over 280 pounds of pure muscle.
Alan cringed as he looked at his new massive physique and how much of it was now on display due to his tiny skimpy outfit. Alan wanted to keep pleading with Mac but the jock placed his hand on his shoulder and cut him off before he could speak.
Mac was almost giddy as he looked at the newest mounatin of muscle on campus "Now that's the monsterous part, now here comes the dumb part, but don't worry Alan I'll let you keep all those smarts they'll just be locked up inside that head along with your nerdy self and who you used to be."
Alan was about to protest when suddenly the fuzz in his head returned and everything suddenly became harder to piece together. What was it that he wanted to say? Why was he so worried? Was there something that he wanted to stop? Didn't he use to think good? Was that the problem? Even a slight bit of drool started to form at the edge of Alan's mouth as all his knowledge of college, high school, elementary school and everything except the basics was sucked away to a tiny little part of his mind that his body no longer could access. Alan tried to get to it but it was like his mind was walking through thick mud and the more he tried to get to it the less he felt in control of his body and instead it seemed something else was taking control.
Mac grabbed his new creation by the shoulder smiling as he watched the twinkle in the eyes that use to be Alan become trapped at the back of his own mind. Mac then gave the walking wall of muscle a little shake "Hey bro you in there? Earth to Atlas my best bro are you in there or are you too busy thinking about the party tonight?"
Alan no longer could do anything as the fuzz in his brain started to clear and when it did Alan no longer recognised the memories and thoughts. No longer was he studying in his room for hours on end, no he was partying and or going to the gym with Mac and his bro's. There was memories of him drinking and smoking weed, getting tattoos, banging babes and being the best mate to his bro Mac. Alan wanted to scream as his old life, all that education all of his smarts, all of his achievements were erased and replaced with some arrogant asshole gym bro who only cared about his appearence, partying and his best mate Mac.
Alan could only sob from inside his mind in the body of Atlas as tribal tatoos covered his arms, a gaudy gold chain and watch attached itself to his body, while diamond studs appeared in his ears, while his whole body took on an almost fake tan hue. Alan wanted to scream and cry, he wanted his body back but no matter what he did he was still stuck in the mud of his mind, the intelligence and knowledge, his past life all there but until able to take control of the dumb oaf he had become. Alan then felt his stomach rumble and his new body grinned at Mac.
"And here comes the smelly part" Mac said already starting to laugh as Atlas turned around and pushed out his pink short clad bubble butt. Alan desperately wanted to protest and was thoroughly humiliated as he bent over and unleashing a droning, spluttering, foul smelling fart that left Alan sobbing for mercy as he smelt the stench he had now produced and would be forced to smell for the rest of his existence.
"Get a whiff of that bro! That could peel that fucking paint off the walls!" Atlas shouted incredibly proud of the stench he had made and making his best bro laugh.
"You monsterous, smelly, dumb oaf! Get that ass away from me!" Mac laughed as he playfully pushed at his new bro's gaint gas producing ass. "Phew we better get out of this classroom before we stink it out!"
Mac then put his hand on Atla's back and he returned the bro affection by putting his arm round Mac's shoulder. The two bro's laughing at the stench they had created as they left.
"So what are we doing now bro?" Atlas asked while casually flexing a bicep.
"I've got to find a new debate partner for this class, you have gym session with the boys." Mac said before waving to Atlas and leaving him on his own, where the new monsterous bro found himself blasting ass and then heading to the gym with a tiny almost silent scream echoing at the back of his head.
Everyone wanted to be part of Connected Growth Innovations new project. Sure, there were rumors and unproven lawsuits concerning their previous endeavors, but what was the real danger? Everyone knew those fake claims were just publicity to play into their name CGI.
Their newest endeavor was centered on their Upload Helmets. Users could put themselves into a virtual world, created entirely by memory. Through this people could experience the world through another’s eyes, no danger of any mishaps. This meant people could even relive memories based on emotions. Parents could see how they yelled at their kids and looked like monsters. Boyfriends’ “jokes” about their girlfriends became exposed as personal bashing comedy routines. Simple arguments could directly be seen as misinterpreted by both parties incorrectly assuming. Intentionality. Once Again, CGI Labs had done the impossible and found a way to connect hearts and minds.
The Upload Helmet connected people to a virtual world that was entirely based off of a person’s mind. A way to visit a shared mindscape if you will. Of course, a single person could craft their own virtual world just to experience the out of body-state.
Keith Stewart was a huge fan of the Upload Helmet. Every day he was sending his consciousness off into a world that he could craft and explore. There were warnings not to abuse the product, but Keith was never known for being a great listener. He was in the artificial world, helmet on his head every day. He couldn’t stop, wouldn’t stop. His favorite thing to do was to recreate his home from his memory. A test of his skills as an architect. Each time he’d tried to add whatever he missed. Then he tried to expand upon his home adding rooms that didn’t exist. His home became a mansion, then he tried to expand beyond that, creating a city. A strain on his helmet as the server was only meant to create things for a short time. If someone’s memory took place in a bar, then their home wouldn’t be loaded up.
Lucky for Keith the final abuse of his helmet came, when he was surrounded by others at work. So, when he put the helmet on for a demonstration and it began to smoke, people were able to respond. Unfortunately, when they got the helmet off, Keith’s body was unconscious.
—
Keith stood drinking coffee in his home. It was a beautiful morning. Another beautiful morning. And it was going to always be a beautiful morning. That was the memory of the world Keith had crafted in his virtual space. Now he lived there. “Temporarily” the workers at CGI labs would say. After his collapse the company elected to take care of his body, which was currently sitting in a hospital bed somewhere. Due to the malfunction his body refused to download his consciousness, and the company was curious to find out why.
The CGI workers would pop in, a glowing light descending from the sky before a glowing circle would appear on the floor. The same as when anyone else arrived and came down a digital wind tunnel from the sky. Then there were endless questions about how he felt, what he was going to do that day. Keith had to struggle not to say, ‘lay in bed and jerk off’. The company promised they weren’t watching him 24/7, but why did he feel like an animal in a zoo?
A white circle appeared on the floor as Keith rolled his eyes, setting down his coffee. He was prepared to tell the worker to leave but then noticed his brother’s body lower down until it landed solidly in the center of the circle.
“Dennis!” Keith shouted, waving a hand. His brother was a big gym guy, easily taking up the entirety of the circle.
His brother opened his eyes, spotting Keith. The piercing blues went up and down, examining, as his brow furrowed. He stepped out of the circle as it disappeared. Dennis had a white dress shirt and pants, with shined black shoes. “Why are you still in your underwear? I told you my family was coming to visit you today at 1pm.” He talked like a teacher trying to scold a student.
“Hey, look I don’t know if you noticed bro, but time passes differently in here.” Keith stated, he could be a brat back if his brother was going to get high and mighty.
Dennis sighed, running a hand down his face, “Why don’t you let CGI Labs, put in a clock that aligns with the actual world or change the weather. My family is sitting at their facility now; I can go do it for you.”
“Those guys don’t need to be in my head any more than they are. It’s their fault I’m in this mess.” Keith said.
“Keith it’s your own damn fault for—I ‘m not doing this today. Asher and Lina are on their way. Get dressed.” Dennis had a point; their argument about who was the blame had happened countless times. Keith got up, leaning off the cabinets and walked to his bedroom.
His brother could be such an ass. Their argument was about more than this event. Dennis didn't have an adventurous bone in his body, never thought outside the box. That’s how Dennis ended up working for a dull corporation, Keith couldn’t bother to remember. His brother considered unbuttoning his shirt dressing down. In Keith's mind, Dennis couldn’t sympathize with him because Dennis didn’t have the imagination to even understand how he got into the situation. Ever since they were little, Dennis was all about rigid structure, and there was Keith, the older brother, to shatter those notions. Their parents thought it was an act of a higher power that they were blessed with a boy who didn’t look for danger at every turn.
As a big brother though there was nothing sadder to Keith than a kid who couldn’t even be curious or pretend. He tried hard to break Dennis out of that mentality, trips to junk yards, tree climbing, bike racing, nothing worked. Especially not when Keith always ended up with some kind of injury, from a scrape on the knee to a dislocated shoulder falling from a tree. Dennis had finally bought into his parent’s belief Keith was a daredevil, who always went too far. That’s why even today, Dennis was so up Keith’s ass about this situation. Just another daredevil stunt in his little brother’s eyes.
The digital jeans and shirt slipped on easy enough, as Keith walked back into the main room. Two more circles appeared. His sister-in-law and nephew landed in the center of them before opening their eyes. Linda was a gorgeous woman, black curly hair, tanned mediterranean skin. Dennis had done well for himself. The woman was a real go-getter which came as another surprise. As for his nephew Asher, he reminded Keith a lot of young Dennis: pale, thin, blonde hair. The only difference was Asher didn’t hate Keith as much…at least not yet.
An hour passed as the family sat down and told him what was going on in their lives and the condition of his body. Keith pretended to care for the first half but zoned out during the second. He loved them, but they bothered him every week just to tell him he wasn’t going back in his body: what did they want from him? It felt like Dennis just wanted to punish him.
Keith watched them all leave, circles forming and glowing under their feet. Dennis barely had any room for his circle. Why did a lawyer need to be sculpted like a body builder anyway? Next was Lina’s, a bit more modest, reasonable space in her circle. Lastly, was Asher’s circle lighting up, tons of space in that one. Dennis closed his eyes and began to ascend, then Linda did the same, shoes disconnecting from the ground. Keith removed his clothes, once the family's eyes were off him. Down to his underwear, a curious idea got into Keith’s head as his brother and sister-in-law disappeared. He jumped onto Asher’s glowing square. “Move over a bit,” He requested, barging in as they both ascended, getting sucked away from that place.
Asher and Keith’s digital forms began to glow into the familiar white light. Their bodies got forced closer together. Keith couldn’t tell if his body was pulling in his nephew’s, or if his form was sinking into Asher. Regardless, their silhouette coalesced into one. As the form found cohesion their minds melded. Keith saw everything Asher once had. Dennis, fighting to ensure CGI Labs gave Keith the utmost care. Sitting by Keith's body in the hospital. The late nights spent crying before his son caught him. Then a memory.
“I thought you didn’t like Uncle Keith,” Asher asked late one night across the dinner table.
“We don’t mesh well; doesn’t mean I don’t like or love him.” Dennis sighed, the sigh of a man who was worn out. “I’m so tired of people thinking that. When we were growing up, I wanted to be just like him but…I wasn’t. I couldn’t do the things he could, and I realized I didn’t want to. I was happy to watch him get excited to do something stupid. But this…” A tear ran down Dennis' face. “He can’t go like this.” Dennis turned to Asher, “Let me tell you a secret that stays between us. Your uncle was my first love. He was always beautiful, stayed beautiful. But I knew that I couldn’t…we couldn’t….”
The memory faded and Keith felt the weight of how badly he’d just fuck up. He shouldn’t have had that memory, but it was severed from the catalog of his own brain. No, not his brain. Asher’s. And he could feel his nephew unintentionally reading his mind in return. There was no separation between them anymore. The reupload process had begun. The lines of code that made up their identity had mashed together.
Meanwhile, Asher’s body prepared to receive back its consciousness as the Upload Helmet glowed. His parents were already getting sorted back in the world as Asher’s body began to convulse. The data it was receiving contained much more information than what it had sent out. A combined code of Asher and his Uncle Keith’s consciousness got crammed into the smaller form. There was too much data for the body to hold. The helmet began to smoke.
“Oh my god!” Linda said, “I’ll go get someone!" She ran out.
Keith watched, Asher’s eyes now both of theirs, as Dennis leapt into action pulling at the helmet. Asher’s body bucked. Once. Twice. Then his clothes began to rip. It started with his shoulder expanding out as his height grew. Asher’s body was deciphering His uncle Keith's code and incorporating it. An odd sensation, but Keith could feel himself flow through Asher's body and fill it up. Like slipping into a small suit only to have it stretch around you. Only this was a graceful entrance as he started in the mind, got sent through the blood, absorbed by the muscles, then infused into the bones. Asher had muscle dump into him as his chest exploded out of his shirt. Heavy pecs with dark brown nipples. His shoulders were given no reprieve having to supply new power to his arms. Biceps and forearms ready to smash heads emerge. This wasn't a simple implementation and execution of Keith’s code; Asher’s body was utilizing it for improvement. In the same way their minds had joined, Asher's physical body was becoming a merger of the two. When his thighs exploded out of his small pants that’s when Dennis fell back on his ass. Within seconds Asher’s body had changed into a muscled beast.
“Son?” Dennis stood up, watching the body catch its breath. Asher’s underwear shifted from boxers into a familiar white. Keith’s code was affecting the last thing on Asher’s body, rewriting inorganic material.
“Son, you okay?” Dennis stepped closer. The smoking from the helmet stopped.
Keith backed up, as if there was an instinctual way Dennis would know what he did. He stepped back like Asher fearing a punishment from his dad.
He watched Dennis’ eyes take in his new form, how it lingered on his chest and down the torso until it rested at his ass. There was a look in Dennis' eyes that revealed he pieced together what happened. He had grown up under Keith enough to recognize his older brother’s features reused. Slowly, Dennis walked over removing the helmet. Asher’s face was older, matured, like his uncle Keith's. No more hesitating, Dennis kissed his son, his brother, whoever. Their lips met again and again, as Dennis wrapped his around Asher’s body pulling him closer.
—
Asher’s sudden growth was linked to yet another malfunction of the CGI Labs’ Upload Helmet. Then came the disappearance of Keith’s consciousness off his private server. Without so much of a second thought the company simply uploaded a copy of Keith into his body and tried to pass it off as the original. There was something off about the CGI Labs. They had a twisted excitement trying to uncover Asher’s mishap. When they found out the original Keith had merged with Asher during the reuploaded process, the company was happier than ever to shill out money. CGI Labs. had long been transforming people into others, but merging their consciousness was a new feat.
For the duplicate Keith it was strange waking up, to find his nephew as a massive hulking beast. Not to mention, having every single last one of his memories. Then to be told he was an installed duplicate, was even more upsetting.
Lina was shocked to say the least. Her son was, in a manner of speaking, older than her. She never quite got over coming back into the room with workers to find her son’s body gone and a stranger in his place. The Stewart men didn’t have the heart to explain the intricacies of what happened to Asher and Keith. It was better to let her think duplicate Keith was the real one.
As for the…Stewart brothers? Father and son? Things were certainly different. Dennis wasn’t exactly sure how to interact with the current Asher, befriend him? parent him? One thing he could do was love him. The kiss they shared put all Dennis’ cards on the table. He had almost lost his brother once he couldn’t go through it again. So maybe it was only a matter of time, the two found each other’s lips again. Lina had gone out with friends and the men stayed home watching the game. Dennis kissed his big brother-son on the couch, pushing the wall of muscle back so he could climb on top of him. Asher wrapped his legs around his father’s waist, pressing him in tighter. Dennis cock grinded against the supple ass. Not long after, pants were lost as Dennis pounded into it. The man’s words were a mess of phrases from baby boy to big bro, as he made a giant weak. There was no immediate come down after the sex, they wanted more. After a race up to Asher’s room, the Stewarts broke the bed, the wood frame collapsing as Dennis rode his big bro like a horse. The poor thing wasn't equipped to handle two men of their size.
By the time Lina came back, the house was cleaned. Dennis was more energetic and Asher had an extra pep in his step. The two started a new father-son project to get Asher a new bed. The first of many projects and reasons they’d have to go off together. Then end up with their cocks up each other’s backside. Nothing like Asher getting a call from his Lina, in the back of Dennis' car, when Asher’s cock was buried in the hilt in his younger brother’s dad ass.
“Yeah mom? Dad’s a bit busy, that's why he couldn’t answer.” A thrust of the man’s hips made Dennis clamp over his mouth. Asher talked with his mom, while his dick pummeled his dad’s insides. Meanwhile Dennis’s daddy dick was leaking like a faucet, spilling precum freely. Whenever this combined version of Asher Keith was inside him Dennis couldn’t help it. The father’s ass clamped to milk his top dry. Nothing like having your own son’s body fucking you like your older brother. “Love you to0, mom.” The phone hung up and got tossed away as the fucking got faster. “Love you too dad…little bro, gonna show you how much.” The car rocked with the power generated from the men’s lovemaking.
“FUCK!” both would growl out as cum erupted from their cocks. One batch flooded Dennis’ guts, the other coated both sets of abs in pearly white. A matching pair as the two kissed again. The radio’s music transitioned to an ad, neither was listening to. CGI Labs had a new discovery and an invention to come out. The ad ended back into music as the men drifted off to sleep for a little while.
Who needed an uploaded helmet when reality was so much better?
I don’t know what's happening to me. Coach had asked me to stay back after practice. I know I had fucked up practice, making most of my team run laps but I figured that was punishment enough. So after everyone got done and went on their way out of the lockerroom I was left tapping my feet hoping he didn’t just decide to bench me for the whole season. What I wasn't expecting though was to hear his whistle echo across the tiled floors and walls and my body go stiff immediately. Its like I lost control of my body, no matter how hard I tried to move, flex hell even think it was like molasses bro…. BRO? I don’t use Bro Bro… thats totally dumb bro shit BRO…
I see Coach start walking around me, his voice is muffled. But I know I've been a Bad Boy Bro, Not listening to Coach’s plays, his orders. I was too distracted by the thought of the coach's cock… But Im st… bro i’m so fucking horny for his cock.. It makes me misbehave so much. And Bad Boys need to be punished when they misbehave, bad boys need to obey coach bro. Obey and be a good boy bro.
Good Boys always listen to coach. Good Boys are always horny for coach. Good boys’ holes are always ready for coach, good boys are always on their knees for coach.
_______________________________
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Your roommate had been growing a lot bigger lately.
Or were you shrinking?
It didn’t matter.
Before you finally noticed any of the changes, it was already too late.
As the size difference grew, you couldn’t help but feel submissive to him.
He joked about you being “ideal blowjob height”, and before you knew what you were doing, his dick was in your mouth.
“Oh damn wtf?! Aren’t you straight? Fuck it feels so good though, Good boy…”
Not that your roommate knew what he was doing either. He lovingly stroked your cheek as he pumped his cock in your mouth. He had fully given into the curse, enjoying every second of it. He had definitely gotten the better end of a deal he didn’t make, and he wasn’t going to complain.
As he came in your throat for the first time, you paused a second before eagerly swallowing his load. The first of many indeed, but special as it was the one to finalise your transformation. You belonged to your roommate. No. You belonged to your Master.
“Alright sir, your total will be $134.18 today. Cash or Card?”
“Neither. I usually don’t need to pay for things like this.”
I was befuddled by the forwardness, “I’m sorry sir, but you are going to have to pay for your groceries today. Cash, card, or please get out of my line.”
“I’m sure we could come to an… arrangement.” In the middle of the store he took off his thin tee shirt.
He flashed a charming smile as he flexed his muscles, his torso on full display.
“I’m sorry sir, this is very inappropriate. I am refusing service. Please exit the store.”
“What, no one’s looking besides you. It’s just you and me right now baby,” his voice had gone low, smooth as silk, “come on, can’t you cut me a deal?” He practically shoved his musky body in my face. I felt a bead of sweat roll down my forehead. “You do me a favor, I’ll do one for you.”
Something about this felt strange. My face was flush as my clothes began to feel tight against my body. My polo suddenly was too warm, too tight, too scratchy against my body. My pants felt close to bursting. Even though my dick was straining against its tight enclosure, begging to be set free, I felt the weight in my pocket more. My wallet was pressed tight against my thigh, a thick square almost squeezing out of my pocket. Unconsciously I had been tracing the outline. He had noticed.
“That’s it babe, pull it out.”
He shifted positions, placing his hand firmly on the wall behind me and began teasing. Treating me to a blast of his damp pits.
“Make your daddy proud.”
He was treating me like a child, “Please sir I-I”
“No please and begging babe. Just hand it over to me.”
I couldn’t resist any longer, “Ye-yes Sir.”
I was already holding the wallet. I fiddled for a card-
“The whole thing.”
I handed him my wallet. He flashed a winning grin as he pulled out my driver’s license.
“Awww, such a good photo of you babe.” He flicked the plastic back at me. The photo looked… wrong somehow. Too energetic. Too bright. But it was hard to focus. Under the heat of his presence and the heavy musk I was almost panting. He pulled out a green credit card.
“What’s my pin?”
I almost cried, “7352.”
“Good boy,” he swiped the card and took a step back. As the weight of him shifted I felt more relaxed, but somehow far emptier. “Young guys like you can’t be trusted with money anyways.”
A shiver ran down my spine, as my body stretched and settled. Energy pulsed through me. I hadn’t felt this way in years. “Would…would you like a receipt Sir?”
“No receipt. Thanks for asking. You’re such a good boy,” the words burned in my ears. I was sure I looked like a wide eyed fool, but I was waiting, hoping he would say…
“Oh, you can cum for me now.” He said it.
I felt a wave crash over my body as he said it. I ripped out of my shirt as I grasped for my dick, too late to stop the thick damp spot from forming on the front of my khakis.
“Hopefully that body reminds you of your Master.”
“Yes sir… thank you sir…”
“I will be keeping this.” He slid his wallet into his pocket, “And I expect to be able to use this whenever I need to.”
“Yes sir…” I watched as his beautiful body disappeared under his shirt again. Mine lay in tatters on the ground around me.
“Goodbye babe,” and with a dazzling smile he left.
“Thank you for shopping with us…” I shouted after him, far too loud and quickly.
As I looked around me, I couldn’t help but feel a deep shame and deep lust for what had just happened. My mind, body, and soul had realigned in just a few short minutes. There was only one question to ask myself,
“Shit… what am I going to tell my wife?”
A quickie I wrote this morning, let me all know if you like it. Thank you all for the support, notes, comments, reblogs, likes, etc.
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