posts dont equal my politics. posts are fantasy and escape from reality but im pretty against everything im posting about IN THE REAL WORLD. if you dont like dont read...
POSTS:
GAY TFS (they stay gay)
Almost Cliche
Shower Surprise
Big Boy
Get Acculturated
420
What's Up with You?
Peyton
G2S TFS (they don't stay gay)
Silent Majority
She Said
Stache
Be the Man
Hey, Bro
Good News
TAUREAU UNIVERSITY/ΓϴΣ (College tfs)
Taureau University
The Roomate
Adjunct
ΓϴΣ - Podcast JOCKSTRAP
Danni to Duke
Agent Fisher reports on his roommate's transformative descent into being a father figure straight from a 90's sitcom as he tries to pretend he's not into it.
Dad and Bear Tf's are always some of my favorites to write and this one is no different! Took the flavor but not the style of a certain foundation! Enjoy this daddification from the POV of a desperate agent who has failed his station and by the end suffers the same transformative consequences. -Occam
This is a report from Special Agent Fisher on a previously unidentified anomalous artifact. Delivered to my apartment while I was away on an expedition, a VHS tape labeled Dad’s Den was opened and watched by my friend and roommate who, unaware he should resist, succumbed to its effects and in time was replaced by what can only be described as a stereotypical dad. As if he were straight out of the video tape he couldn’t help but watch.
Given I was on foundation business during the encounter and have already suffered through the loss of my dear friend Clayton, I would request leniency. I submit this thorough report of the VHS tapes effects as evidence and when guaranteed both my personal safety and continued employment I will deliver both the video footage and the anomalous artifact in question.
I understand how this will be perceived but know I only hold the foundation’s best interests at heart. This is simply not my fault and I refuse to be demoted due to a situation out of my hands that I have already suffered beyond measure from. If anything I deserve a promotion for resisting the tape’s allure and effects, though at present I simply want guaranteed and continued safety for Clayton and myself.
Please read the following account of what I have dubbed AA-0646: ‘The Fatherly Film’ before coming to any decisions.
Consummate professional that I am, my installed cameras were able to capture Clayton’s entire encounter with the anomaly. Delivered in a box addressed to my true name, Clayton was none the wiser. Under the impression that I worked for the Parks service, my roommate was entirely unguarded when he decided to just open the box. Perhaps this is a failing of your protocol regarding cohabitants but I digress.
As soon as the package was in his hands there began an audio static in the recording. Isolating it I am able to confirm it was the sound of a laugh track, like you might find on the very same schlocky sitcom that is now in my friend’s hands. At this unfortunate point it is my professional opinion that it is already too late for my poor roommate. Proof of this is the dusty VHS player that appeared under our tv when he tore open the box.
When he moves to the television Clayton inserts the tape into a VHS player we didn’t have moments ago before flopping onto the couch. Then the true effects begin as Clayton is completely lost to the screen. Hardly moving for hours as the tape plays far longer than any cassette could possibly last, Clayton doesn’t blink as dated jokes and shoddy sets beam into his mind with no end.
Previously my roommate could hardly go half an hour without pulling out his phone to aimlessly scroll. When I’d at last convinced him to watch Fellowship of the Ring with me I had to constantly get on his ass for getting distracted by notifications and summarily doomscrolling. I’d be annoyed at him suddenly finding attention span to spare for this drivel were I not distraught by what happens in the following days.
After about six hours of this, Clayton finally starts to doze off. Eyes that were locked on the screen despite their ever-present glaze flutter shut before closing altogether. At the very same time the screen turns off. Overnight little of note occurs. Head lolling back against the couch, the sound of his heavy breathing can barely be caught on my cameras.
Every so often his mouth hanging open twitches into a grin as hands resting on his stomach scratch aimlessly. It feels safe to say this is when true biological changes begin. Never one to grow stubble by the time daylight arrives there is some darker fuzz surrounding his mouth and scattered across his jawline.
When he at last awakens, decidedly earlier than I’ve seen the perpetual night owl ever rise on his own, his arms twitch and rise as his mouth opens to audibly yawn. The quiet cracking sounds of his arms stretching as some heft is revealed on his waistline is covered by the shockingly loud sound of him yawning.
At this point I had hoped he was free from the tape as when he stands there’s a clear look of confusion on his face. Clayton clearly recognized something wrong was happening. If only I was there. Wandering into the kitchen, Clayton appears to grab a pizza from the fridge and return to the living room. There he removes his shirt and tosses it onto the floor before doing some very noisy stretching.
Body bared it’s suddenly obvious that even without actively watching the tape that he has continued to change. Clayton was always complaining about his inability to grow any body hair, whining that it makes him feel like less of a man. Clearly this desire is being preyed upon as a treasure trail suddenly begins to crawl up his already slightly heavier stomach.
Even more apparent is the generous spread that has begun to prickle across his thin chest as it too starts to grow, having been freed from the shirt he slept in. Returning to the couch and sinking back into the same position he slept in, the new weight on his upper body settles in a manner I personally would describe as more attractive heavier.
Thoughtlessly he reaches for the remote and puts his new favorite show back on. Entranced once more, now that his whole chest is out it’s clear that Clayton is visibly growing. Frequently his fingers scratch his chest as each twitchy grin from what he’s watching shoots a few new strands of hair to scatter across his developing pecs.
So too does a small but wide treasure trail begin inching upwards, onto his belly as the distracted man just eats and laughs at jokes he must have heard half a dozen times by now. A few times he raises an arm behind his head to reveal the most drastic hair growth thus far.
The action takes a tad more effort than I’d expect, surely due to the new mass on his bulking arms, or perhaps he’s already growing less flexible. At any rate, there is an unmistakable bush of hair hiding under his arms. Slightly shiny on the film, the strands look to almost be as long as those on his head. It’s quite, well, distracting.
While I remain physically and mentally unaffected from my briefest of encounters with Clayton, something about his scent has left my mind foggy if I focus too much on his pheromones, if that is the correct word. It was quite overwhelming, I- let’s just say it’s fortunate that such an esteemed employee encountered this brutish bear of a dad, this anomaly that is. Keep this in mind as you continue to read, I’m a perfect employee. You can’t just replace me.
Moving on, on day two his changes accelerate. Though it took all night for his first few patches of body hair to bloom, now that he’s mindlessly watching Dad’s Den again they are flourishing. In one episode his chest is wholly overtaken by thick chest hair. By the next it connects with his paltry treasure trail before that too expands to cover his still bulking stomach.
And as he continues changing he laughs all the more. Wide smile on his face as his lips are tickled with stubble, Clayton rubs his stomach as each guffaw is louder than the last. Ruffling the dense coverage on his stomach, his hands can’t help but reach under his waistline for a scratch or two.
Doing so a distinctly different glazed look overtakes his eyes. Still smiling blankly, Clayton’s head lolls back as he kicks off his pants to expose legs that have grown their own garden of fur as they’ve been hidden from sight. When at last the jeans fall to the floor his feet bounce back a few sizes larger as the coat atop them is just as thick as that on his calves and thighs.
Hand still seemingly magnetized to his tangled bush and apparently needy cock, the expression on his face shifts to one of desperation. Leaning back so far I can barely make out him biting his lips as some spit trickles into his beard. Core twitching as the bulge in his pants grows heavier, and heavier I-
Apologies. Again.
After Clayton tuckers himself out, he falls asleep in exactly the same position he has still yet to move from. One sullied hand stuffed in his pants, the other behind his head allowing his sweaty pit to aerate our living room. It’s unclear what precisely launches the next wave of changes but it is at this point that our home begins to change.
Something of a neat-freak before he began watching, it’s increasingly clear his cleanliness will not survive the change. Morphing into a man almost proud of his filth, the pizza box falls to the floor next to a hamper of clothes that have clearly already been worn more than once. His cozy antique love seat gives way to a gaudy la-z boy recliner as our once quaint living room shifts irreparably into a dad cave.
That night, in between snores that rise to a degree loud enough to almost shake my camera, Clayton also begins murmuring in his sleep. It quickly becomes clear to me that he’s telling jokes. Repeating lines from the show. I don’t make an effort to listen to them of course, they’re always almost annoyingly bad. Here’s a recording of him for an example:
Ah well that’s a pretty good one no? Suppose I could include a few more. If you’re interested? Men-toes. Heh. I uhm- Back to it, of course.
In sleep he continues laughing at each and every one of these jokes he dreams up or retrieves from Dad’s Den. And with each reverberation of struggled snores and raucous guffaws he bloats all the larger, and ages all the sightlier. By midnight his coat has grown enough to cover him like a proper pelt.
The sweaty bush in his pits connects with the blanket of even coverage painted from his neckline to his pubes. Perpetual stubble that now decorates his face is slightly speckled white as it reaches upward to connect with messy hair that is beginning to thin. Meaty muscle continues to pack on just as fast as the mouth-watering heft growing on his gut.
The next day he awakes before sunrise. Launching into a massive stretch and not yawning so much as yelling, his back cracks wider as he moans at the feeling of relief. Scratching his heavier ass to reveal a few lengthy curls decorating his backside, Clayton meanders into the kitchen. His footsteps fall like flippers as our apartment’s new wood panelling creaks under his weight.
Jokes about rising and grinding and what a brew-tiful morning it is resound in the kitchen accompanied by giggling crackling deeper. Until now his voice had maintained at least a familiar tone but with each pun to nobody it’s like his voicebox is aging as his resting tone sinks deeper and deeper. And credit where it’s due I do find myself enjoying his puns more and more.
When the morning sun does stream into the den, Clayton returns with a black cup of coffee. I’d be surprised he’s able to stomach it given his preference for incredibly sweet lattes, but the grand reveal of his new fatherly form is far too stunning to describe anything else. Uhm, scientifically speaking.
Resting his massive feet on our coffee table, Clayton leans back and starts downing his dark roast as the television just starts up without him even needing to lift a finger. Now mouthing along to the dad’s dialogue as if he were voicing it himself it’s clear my roommate is more Dad than his old self.
Crow’s feet etch into his eyes as smile lines trail down his cheeks, hidden his thick stubble. It’s difficult for me to tear my eyes away from his masculine form. I didn’t even notice at first that the dad- that Clayton had changed into a jock, but as his much larger dick twitches under the tight fabric. As his toes curl and the arches of his feet crack wider. As his bulky biceps bulge larger with each raise of the steaming dark cup, streaking into his beard before he wipes it with his rough hand fuck shit
Clearly there are some hazards involved with watching this process but I can guarantee that there is nothing memetic or mind-altering besides watching the tape itself. Which I have taken care to completely block from my recordings. You’re welcome again.
Back to it the changes in our apartment have similarly accelerated, where we once had posters and framed art there now exist bizarre family portraits. Clayton with some college aged offspring though from the best I can tell there isn’t a single one with a wife. Perhaps related to the plot of the show? Perhaps because my roommate’s gay. Not to sound like a broken record but if you want any further of my hypotheses you know what to do.
Skipping ahead, I’d figured that his changes would have slowed since to my eye his dilfy form had reached its apex, but I was quickly proven wrong. Today as his hairline continues to thin and his body hair continues to thicken, his body starts to truly bulk. I’d heard of dad strength but it’s almost ridiculous watching him grow heavier and stronger.
Eyes almost rolling back into his head Clayton’s stomach finally grows into a proper dad bod as heavy pecs hang atop it, bloating themselves into the perfect canvas for his thick curls. Beside the growing barrel of a torso rest arms increasingly patterned with throbbing veins and twitching with strength.
His forearms are covered with the type of hair you’d balk at in person. I could hardly believe it when I did see them in person, they’re like a second layer of skin lifted almost an inch off the arms, so thick at points you can barely see the veiny, muscled guns beneath. To say nothing of the very same curls trailing up his massive biceps. How they twitch with the slightest movement of his sausage fingers. How they grow larger as he continues watching the show. As he continues watching. As-
Ugh god this report is giving me such a headache.
Over the following day it seems the anomaly starts skipping and fading away on the, much larger, TV. Clayton doesn’t seem to react though, he continues just mouthing the lines to himself as he goes about the house. Grunting with every movement like a man decades older than he should be, my new fatherly roommate ambles about with a toolbox I swear he’s never lugged out before as he goes about any chores that don’t involve tidying up.
Slight baldspot on his increasingly speckled head and thick hair crawling up his ass from tacky cargo shorts, it’s at some point this day which I’d say the artifact has finished its dirty work. As Clayton interacts with confusion to whatever aspects of his old self remain they rapidly adjust to fit his new life.
Everything in his wardrobe lengthens more than a few sizes before morphing and restylizing to lose even the slightest amount of fashionability. The man oozes practicality as much as he does raw masculine sex appeal. Soon there’s not a trace of our old home, even my bedroom seems to have been corrupted into that of a son who’s gone off to college.
I’ve yet to do an investigation as to the nature of his apparent new family but should I be allowed to once more use the agency’s resources. And, to prove I’m acting in good faith, there is one remaining object from his past, a photo of the two of us together which is now an image of myself and him in his current form. It was this I found him looking at when I at last returned from my mission.
He set it down softly when I entered and leaned against the wall. Obviously I instantly knew something terrible had happened. I tried to convince him to drop everything and come to the lab but he wouldn’t listen. I- he just kept saying these stupid, stupid jokes. Obviously I know now what happened but even then I felt like I was talking with a character rather than a person. Rather than my roommate.
But I couldn’t really look away. The way his weight shifted as he moved, the musk that filled the whole place- I know I said watching his transformation wasn’t mind affecting but being in his presence very well could be. Even now I find myself craving that scent. God he was so fucking-
I digress. As soon as I found myself starting to enjoy the shitty jokes he kept firing off, I shook out of it and realized Clayton’s expression shifted from when I first entered. At first he looked blankly at myself before his eyes softened as if he seemed to recognize me. Not as his friend or roommate though, no. Instead he said his kiddos had been telling him about a coach that was moving in next door.
I’d be lying if I said this didn’t suddenly give me dry mouth and butterflies in my stomach. But I acted quickly and according to protocol. I immediately left and retrieved my security footage remotely after sealing our apartment for Clayton’s safety and the safety of anyone who might accidentally stumble into our place.
Returning later with the proper physical and psychological protection, I retrieved the anomalous artefact in question and Clayton. At present myself, the artifact, and Clayton are in my safehouse unknown to the agency where we will remain until I am guaranteed continued employment. After retrieval the only further effect was changing my prius into a station wagon. Which doesn’t bother me for some reason or another.
Apologies again for the underhanded tactics but I know at least one supervisor who attained his position acting similarly during that banana protein shake disaster. Time is of the essence so the quicker you approve my demands the quicker we can get this contained.
Yours. Agent Fisher
AGENT FISHER: DEMOTED
One day after receiving Agent Subject Fisher’s missal he was found, reprimanded, and retrieved for further testing. AA-0646 victim “Clayton”, furthermore named AA-0646-A, was taken in for questioning and, as Fisher described, his previous identity and mind have been subsumed by this new dad persona.
Agent: Do you recall your life before you were a father?
Clayton: Awh gee there it’s just been so long y’know? I’m not one for dwelling on the past. My kiddos always used to whine and winge like you wouldn’t believe! Ohh but before I settled down I did think about being a historian, matter of fact!
Agent: Really? Well-
Clayton: Course, there’s no future in that! Hah hah hah! Heh.
Agent: Mmhm I see.
When Fisher came up in questioning, AA-0646-A went glassy in the eyes and produced a second variant of AA-0646 from his robe, distinct from the original; this version is decorated with a garish title sticker labelling “Coach Next Door”. Lou over in processing is confident the tape is porn but as the Agency demands, we must discover everything about this Anomalous Artifact, and there is no better test lab rat than our newest Subject Fisher.
While AA-0646-A allegedly changed over the course of a few days, Fisher’s changes were far hastier. Perhaps exacerbated through his frequent and ill advised contact and borderline obsession with AA-0646-A.
As Fisher suggested Agents have neglected to observe what the program actually consists of, but given the subject’s excitement it seems to be somewhere between outright porn and a classic sitcom. After the first viewing, the subject has begun to exhibit increased muscle mass and hair growth.
When momentarily prevented from viewing AA-0646, the subject began to grow frantic before being assuaged by the suggestion of physical exercise. Following this subject’s mass began to increase with even more haste. Subject continued to exercise even after AA-0646 was returned, more so when it began to play once more.
On the second loop the subject grew in height and body hair began to accelerate to a degree agents describe as ‘above average’. While his upper body develops pecs and biceps, his jaw sharpens as it too is overtaken with stubble that befits his new self.
Agents tell me the subject at this point appears to be an ‘otter’. I neglect to follow up. From the images delivered however it is clear the subject is no longer the Fisher we knew and tolerated. Almost nude in the test room, subject’s malfitting underpants are stained and filled with a notable bulge.
Finally, on watch three, much like on subject AA-0646-A’s Day three, the transformation accelerates to totally excise whatever remains of the subject within. Muscle mass still rising, it is soon displaced by fat that befits an ex-jock, clearly the coach next door in question.
Body hair has accelerated from ‘above-average’ to ‘extreme’ and the messy stubble on his face has begun to be speckled with a few white hairs. Subject’s surely thinning hairline is covered by a cheap sweat-stained baseball cap allegedly not given to him by Agents, nor were the jock strap, whistle, or tube socks.
Given AA-646’s ability to generate matter and shape reality Doctor Marquez suggests subjects AA-646-A and AA-646-B, that is ‘Fisher’, be quarantined and their respective instances of AA-646, sealed away from them. The idea is broached with A and B and surprisingly they are amenable, as long as they are quarantined with access together.
This request is deemed acceptable and the Agency will see fit to keep the affected subjects under constant supervision. Though, given the agent’s best guesses as to what is to occur between the pair it remains unclear what intelligence will be gathered. Still, knowledge above all else. We shall see to it that someone decidedly lustless shall oversee the continued research on instances of AA-646.
While Special Agent Fisher’s prior demands may be neglected, at the very least he and Clayton, that is 646-A and 646-B, shall have their needs met by the agency and each other.
Recommended follow up: Agents are to remind cohabitants letter of the federal law to not open mail addressed to others. Agents are to exercise caution around VHS and other vintage recordings. Furthermore any Agents with daddy issues or kinks are to avoid Block 600A until further notice.
You finally landed the cute twink who worked at your local coffee shop. It had taken months of flirting. In addition to a bit of an inside job by one of your recent twink conversions, your approach entailed wearing outfits that gradually exposed more and more of your older, muscular, extremely hairy body. At first he had only see your bearded face and maybe the black hair all over the back of your fingers and hands as you would take your coffee from him, purposefully brushing your larger, thick fingers along his. A few months later, and sick of the perpetual blue balls he was causing you, you showed up wearing a very snug, fitted t-shirt and shorts, muscle and fur on full display. The second he saw you he was visibly stunned, unable to focus on anything or speak. You passed him a piece of paper with your number, saying “time to make this happen,” and left without getting a coffee. He texted 20 minutes later. You replied that you weren’t looking for something quick, that you wanted him to spend the entire upcoming 3-day weekend at your place so you could “get to know him better.” It took him a few minutes, but you knew his lust would override any lingering concerns in the back of his mind. He liked your message, and you locked him in. He came to your place at 10am Friday morning as instructed. Given your overly swollen balls and your plans for the next 3 days, you decided that instead of the usual hypnotic manipulation, you should be upfront with this twink. You told him that your sperm would cause substantial changes to his body, a masculinization of untold proportions, and he would leave looking very different than he does now. He smiled, said that it sounded hot, clearly thinking he was going along with some fantasy. He became a little more serious when you had him sign a waiver and took a before picture. The next 3 days were some of the most intense you have had in a while. After breaking in his tight virgin hole, you battered it again and again with raw breedings every hour. By the second day, his little hole had gaped wipe open, matching the exact size of your enormous breeder cock. Of course the changes had started with the very first load, but you resisted taking any pictures until Sunday evening. As he stood in the same position as the before pic, you felt a pang of guilt for what you did to him. He would spend the next days and weeks convincing friends, family, and co-workers that it’s really him, making up some story for why he looks so different, knowing that he can’t tell them what changed him was an older hairy man’s sperm repeatedly shot deep inside of him. You flipped back and forth between the before and after pic, studying the excessive fur now coating his body, the thick mustache and beard, and of course the very advanced male pattern baldness. But you got over the momentary guilt, taking pleasure in knowing that his perfectly reshaped hole would be ready and willing to take your raw load any time you need to breed a hairy bottom pig.
[An update on a story originally written for CYOC, in a thread involving a gay man cursed to become straight and pass the curse along to other gay people. The original thread specifically involved homophobic insults passing the curse. I have retooled this to not be the case. And while it’s fun to play with straight and masc stereotypes in the context of a TF story, obviously gay conversion is immoral, impossible, and not something any story in this thread is advocating for in any way.]
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
Thomas cut through the crowd, fighting his way to the DJ platform. His friend Alicia has dragged him to this club, and he’d obliged on account of her recent breakup. Anything for a friend, you know? But she’d vanished into a corner with a hunky Latino guy half an hour ago, leaving Thomas stranded by the bar alone as usual. He tripped over a foot and hastily apologized to a drunk girl who was practically bent in half against some dude’s pelvis. She took notice and launched herself at him. He found himself surrounded by a noxious cloud of beer breath and bad perfume as he struggled to prop her up.
“Wanna hook up?” the girl said, adjusting her bra strap. “I dig chubby guys. They-“ she hiccupped. “They always work harder, if you know what I mean.” Thomas’ face went pale as he deposited the girl on the nearest bro’s crotch. He was into dudes, but even if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have gone near that drunk mess in a thousand years. As he passed through the dancing, sweating bodies, jammed together like sardines, he tugged at the front of his shirt. What the girl had said had ignited his old insecurities and he didn’t like the feel of his shirt against his jiggling belly. Thomas wasn’t fat. He knew that. But he looked nothing like the bronzed Adonises bumping and grinding on the club floor.
Always a little too stocky, a little too freckly, Thomas felt like he looked like a Keebler elf after eating one too many fudge cookies. He was ashamed at how much the crowd of straight men turned him on. It only reminded him of everything he wasn’t. These thoughts were pushed from his mind as he finally reached the DJ stand.
Henry only wanted to be manly. When he heard about the Minoxidil+ pills on the web, he bought some only minutes before the website seemingly shut down. After getting them through mail, he took the recommended amount: one pill before sleep, but didn’t bother to read the instructions further. The pill gave him erotic dreams all night, of himself growing hairier and manlier in front of his coworkers. It was only when he woke up to a powerful orgasm that he realized he had become the hairy man of his dreams. He masturbated again a couple times before going to sleep. On the next day, he took another pill before going to work. People commented his new beard and each time he touched it or looked at himself in the mirror, Henry could swear it looked thicker, fuller, darker. He had to spend his lunch break in the toilets jacking off to abate the strong horniness assessing him. Only when he came home after work and went to the bathroom, he looked down at his still aching boner and furrier body, wondering if the pills should act that fast or that strong. If only he had read the instructions closley, he would have known that jacking off in the 12 hours after taking a pill made the growth all the more apparent and quicker… not that he would have minded though!
You finally landed the cute twink who worked at your local coffee shop. It had taken months of flirting. In addition to a bit of an inside job by one of your recent twink conversions, your approach entailed wearing outfits that gradually exposed more and more of your older, muscular, extremely hairy body. At first he had only see your bearded face and maybe the black hair all over the back of your fingers and hands as you would take your coffee from him, purposefully brushing your larger, thick fingers along his. A few months later, and sick of the perpetual blue balls he was causing you, you showed up wearing a very snug, fitted t-shirt and shorts, muscle and fur on full display. The second he saw you he was visibly stunned, unable to focus on anything or speak. You passed him a piece of paper with your number, saying “time to make this happen,” and left without getting a coffee. He texted 20 minutes later. You replied that you weren’t looking for something quick, that you wanted him to spend the entire upcoming 3-day weekend at your place so you could “get to know him better.” It took him a few minutes, but you knew his lust would override any lingering concerns in the back of his mind. He liked your message, and you locked him in. He came to your place at 10am Friday morning as instructed. Given your overly swollen balls and your plans for the next 3 days, you decided that instead of the usual hypnotic manipulation, you should be upfront with this twink. You told him that your sperm would cause substantial changes to his body, a masculinization of untold proportions, and he would leave looking very different than he does now. He smiled, said that it sounded hot, clearly thinking he was going along with some fantasy. He became a little more serious when you had him sign a waiver and took a before picture. The next 3 days were some of the most intense you have had in a while. After breaking in his tight virgin hole, you battered it again and again with raw breedings every hour. By the second day, his little hole had gaped wipe open, matching the exact size of your enormous breeder cock. Of course the changes had started with the very first load, but you resisted taking any pictures until Sunday evening. As he stood in the same position as the before pic, you felt a pang of guilt for what you did to him. He would spend the next days and weeks convincing friends, family, and co-workers that it’s really him, making up some story for why he looks so different, knowing that he can’t tell them what changed him was an older hairy man’s sperm repeatedly shot deep inside of him. You flipped back and forth between the before and after pic, studying the excessive fur now coating his body, the thick mustache and beard, and of course the very advanced male pattern baldness. But you got over the momentary guilt, taking pleasure in knowing that his perfectly reshaped hole would be ready and willing to take your raw load any time you need to breed a hairy bottom pig.
Fuckkkk me, this is what you wanted? Some 18 year old hung twunk? Ungh... god my body's so sensitive now. Fuck I feel so needy, I just want to ram my cock into your tight little bussy. Mmmmfuccckkk I'm still changing. My dick keeps getting longer, how fucking big do you want it whore? Holy shit these abs. Wow you're a fucking cunt, you have no idea what you're doing to me... unnngh holy fuck my feet are huge. Fuck let me fuck you please my dick can't take it anymore. I need to fill you up, i need to cum in you.
***heads up, this story contains needles and injections. You have been warned.***
"Hello there! Will, is it?" The doctor asked, reaching out for ahandshake
"Ugh, yeah." Will stuttered.
"Let me see..." The doctor flipped through the pages on his clipboard. "Ah! You're here for some gender affirming care."
"Ummm, I just wanted to look a bit manlier."
"Yeah, that's the goal of this appointment. To make the inside match the outside."
The doctor sat down on a small stool and scooted over towards Will. After putting on some latex gloves, he started grabbing Wills face. He grabbed his chin and tilted his face every which way while examining every detail.
"Alright, I think I've seen enough." He backed away and started ruffling through a nearby cabinet. "I know exactly what you need."
"But you haven't even asked me what's wrong?"
"Don't need to. Just trust the process."
He grabbed a small bottle and dispensed some foamy cream onto his hand. With no hesitation, he started rubbing the cream all over Will's jawline and across his cheeks.
"This is rogaine. It'll tell the hair follicles in your face to turn on, letting you grow some manly hairs over that baby face." The doctor said as he continued rubbing the cream into Wills skin.
"Oh ok... I've always wanted to grow a beard."
"Now we'll just leave that on for a few minutes."
Will could already feel it working, it felt like pop rocks against his skin as the cream settled into his pores. It even started to itch a little, which probably meant it was working.
It felt like hours of waiting before the doctor wiped off the cream with a towel.
"The results are coming in quick, why don't you take a look." He held up a mirror towards Will.
Will almost didn't recognize the man looking back. He had a full black beard covering his face. He couldn't believe it as he ran his fingers the 4 inch long hairs.
"Holy shit, that was fast."
"How do you like it?" The doctor asked.
"I love it!"
"How about we do a little more."
"Sure, yeah whatever you want."
The doctor quickly got to work. He rummaged through his cabinet and grabbed a needle that he quickly filled with a clear substance from a nearby vial. And without saying anything, he injected into Will's thigh.
"Ow, what the hell?"
"This is testosterone, it'll help balance out your hormones since you're clearly lacking it."
"You could have- ahem - you could have at least warned me." Will paused as he noticed his voice had dropped significantly.
"Ah, it's already working."
"Wow, I ummm, didn't know all this stuff would take effect so fast."
"Oh yeah, it's pretty much instant, I mean look at your chest."
Will looked down and saw dark hairs peeking out of his collar. He pulled at his shirt, allowing him to see the hair spread across his chest and down his stomach. The thick pelt of hair spread over his arms and legs, making his skin barely visible underneath. Even his hands and feet became buried under a forest of wiry hairs.
"Pretty sexy, right?" The doctor asked.
"Hell yeah doc."
He was busy admiring his hairiness when he felt a sudden pressure in his crotch.
"Oh shit!" He quickly grabbed his balls, trying to readjust them in his pants, but they didn't seem to settle right.
"Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that, testicle growth is normal with high doses of testosterone." The doctor noted.
"You don't say." Will chuckled as he tried to hide the tennis ball sized imprints in his pants.
"How's about one more treatment."
"Whatever you say doc!"
"Right on."
The doctor grabbed another vial and filled the same syringe with the unknown substance. Then, with no warning again, he injected Will in the arm. This time Will didn't even flinch.
"This is a steroid that should help you reach the muscle mass that men your age should have."
"Ohhh I can feel it doc."
Wills arms started to pulsate around the injection site, and each time his muscle swelled larger and larger. His noodle arms quickly grew into watermelon sized biceps that would make any quarterback jealous.
His chest expanded into two juicy pecs that strained the buttons on his shirt, allowing his thick hair to poke through. His flabby stomach tightened into a defined six pack while waves of muscle formed along his back.
His pants began to rip when his thighs thickened with dense muscle, squishing his massive balls even more.
"Fuck, man. This feels amazing."
Will took a moment just to feel his newfound strength. He hit a few poses, so fixated on his own body that he didn't even notice the doctor getting hard as he watched on.
"Why stop now, onto the next treatment."
"Huh?" Will was barely paying attention.
The doctor pulled out a sketchy looking bottle and poured a couple pills into his hand.
"Here, take these."
"Whatever you say, doc."
Will popped them into his mouth without a second thought. This one took effect immediately. Will started to grunt and groan before bringing his hands down to his crotch. He writhed in discomfort as the bulge in his pants became harder and harder to ignore. His dick was full mast, sticking straight out, and growing. It came in waves, adding inches to his shaft every time. His once average dick quickly surpassed 8 inches, then 10, then over a foot.
Will let out a deep moan as his fly ripped open and his massive 15 inch cock spring out towards the doctor.
"Fascinating, I've never given a patient two of those pills before..."
"What!?" Will said between heavy breaths.
"Nothing. We can't stop now!"
He turned around and grabbed a small device from the counter. He grabbed Will's head and directed him to face down.
"There's no time to waste."
All Will could see was clumps of his hair falling to the ground as he felt a faint stinging feeling on his scalp.
"Almost done.... And.... Voila!"
The doctor held up the mirror to Will. Just like earlier, he barely recognized the man looking back at him. His hairline had receded a few inches around his temples and the rest of his hair had thinned out.
He ran his hands through the thin hair, it couldn't have been much thicker than the hair on his arms.
"My hair..."
"Looks great doesn't it, so manly."
"I'm really starting to look like a real man." Will smiled.
"Almost, there's one more step."
The doctor grabbed an unlabeled can and handed it over to Will.
"Drink this."
"What is it?"
"It's a beer. Nothing makes a man like an ice cold beer."
Will examined the suspicious looking can before opening it and chugging the beer. It went down smoother than any drink he'd ever had in his life.
He crushed the can like it was nothing and chucked it across the room.
"That's the spirit." The doctor smiled. "How do you feel."
"I feel...umm... I feel" Will grabbed his stomach.
*BBBBUUUURRRAAAAPPPP*
The burp echoed around the room. It was quickly followed by a loud growl that erupted from his stomach.
"I don't feel so good."
Just after the words escaped his lips, his stomach swelled outward with immense force. All the buttons of his shirt flew across the room as thick fat piled into stomach, burying his six pack. What started as a small bulk quickly spiraled out of control, growing into a full on belly. His hairy beer gut spilled onto his thighs as it finally stopped growing, leaving him with a solid dad bod.
The doctor grabbed Will's belly, examining it while pinching his soft fat.
"I may have finally perfected the formula."
"Huh?" *Burp*
"Oh, nothing that concerns you."
The doctor pulled back Will's shirt, or what was left of it, revealing his pecs, or what could be better described as man tits.
"Marvelous."
He grabbed Will's hands, acknowledging the plumpness of his fingers and the girth of his palms.
"You've truly turned out the best of my subjects. I mean patients." The doctor began putting his equipment away. "Now why don't you come back to my place, we can order some pizza and watch the game with my previous patients, you'll love them."
"I got a better idea." Will growled as he grabbed the doctor by the collar. "I force this beer down your throat and fuck you while you transform."
The doctor didn't say a word as Will's hulking body pressed him against the wall, he simply blushed before Will forced the beer into his mouth.
I'd stopped by my uncle's for a quick visit, and he greeted me with that proud half-smile, as if he saw something in me that was still missing. "You're always too tense, boy… relax," he murmured as he poured a drink. A yellow and green hue shimmered subtly in the glass; he held it out with a certain insistence, amused by my hesitation. "It'll do you good," he simply said, staring at me. And once I'd drunk it…"
Well… yellow and green ain’t a bad combo, man. And your uncle got that mix dialed in just right… I’m pretty damn sure you’re gonna like what it does to you. The smell and taste though? Yeah, that part ain’t your vibe. Smells like the high-school football locker room after a whole damn flock of sheep spent the night in there. Least that’s what pops into your head right after you slam the cocktail back.
Your stomach flips a bit… you’re gettin’ tired.
“Relax.”
Your uncle's voice echoes in the back of your skull. Your eyes drop shut. Half asleep, you rub your belly. The drink hits you warm, kinda cozy… but not how you expected. Your gut ain’t going softer. It’s going harder. Like waves rolling under the skin… And hold up—are those hairs you’re feelin’…?
That’s your last thought before you pass out.
You dream of sheep and high-school football teams. You dream of wrestling your uncle—naked, oiled up, like that Greek vase art shit you seen somewhere. Still half asleep, you feel eyes on you. You blink.
Your uncle’s sittin’ right across from you. Grinning. Naked.
You drag a hand down your body.
Shit—you're naked too.
And you’ve got a full-on boner. A premium-grade morning wood situation.
Startled, you grab a pillow and cover yourself as best you can.
Your uncle just grins wider… and starts jerking himself off.
You loosen up. You look at him. That shock inside you starts melting into something else. Lust. But also… something bigger. Something meaner. Dominance.
You don’t take your eyes off him. You rub your hands over your body. Everything feels right. You’re your uncles’s nephew, no doubt… just HAIRIER. More jacked. And let’s be real—way younger, way hotter, way more full of life.
You lean your head into your hand. Your short buzzcut feels right. Real men got hair on their chest, not on their damn heads.
Your uncle’s close—shaking, eyes rolling back. You yank the pillow away. Your cock bounces up like a damn jack-in-the-box.
“Don’t jerk it—suck it,” you growl. It barely sounds like words, more like a threat—but it hits him right where it needs to.
He slides off the chair and onto his knees…
He gave you something to drink earlier.
Now it’s time you pay him back.
--- Originally posted on 2024-07-13 by breedertfs ---
--- Want to read more? View all stories by breedertfs ---
“Stop, babe!! You have to stop or we’re going to keep changing!” When the jock said he’d help us enjoy the straight bar after my boyfriend & I spent the whole night complaining about the lack of fun drinks and cute decor, I never thought he’d curse my boyfriend to have a straight man’s impulses, and worse: a transformative kiss.
As soon as he pecked me on the cheek to calm me down, my beard pulled back into my skin, and when he kissed my neck my Adam’s apple sank away into a smooth line; at first he was trying to help me relax, shrugging off the jock’s warning, but the more feminine I started to appear the more I noticed it looked like his cock was fattening up and drooling pre in his shorts; looking at him I could see that his jaw was more square, his body more defined and still bulking up, his stare hungry.
When he grabbed me harshly and pulled me in, wrapping his arms around me like a trap and planting a big, wet kiss on my flat chest after ripping off my shirt, all I could do was gasp and moan and struggle to push him off as I felt my tits starting to swell, at first two soft mounds and then eventually fat bouncy mountains, his tongue swirling expertly around my sensitive flesh, I just kept moaning and trembling, the entirety of my body changing the longer he held contact; longer hair, narrower waist, wider hips, my cock receding as it began to be slurped by two wet, dripping folds. He has one hand squeezing my fat tit like it’s about to burst and I can feel as he reaches down his other one to stick his greedy fingers up my cunt, slick with juices.
“Please, baby,” I try to plead again as I feel the dizziness in my brain starting to take over my urge to fight back, missing my sweet and intelligent boyfriend and not at all recognizing this muscular, musky straight man treating my body like his sex toy, “remember we’re gay! You’re my boyfriend! Please don’t do this to me!”
The man that has taken the place of the love of my life pulls away from my jiggling breasts just long enough to smirk down at me, gripping me by the waist with strong hands and jerking me forward, sliding his cock into my pussy like it was made to fit his length. “This feel gay to you, baby?” he says gruffly, beginning to buck his hips as he pleasures my slit, a whiny moan leaving my lips, fucking away all my resistance and memories. “And I’m not your fucking boyfriend, slut.”
