Collar Chronicles

From white, to blue. Forever.

[guysshowingofftheirmuscles]

[aspiringgymbro]

I need a man like this to turn me into a clone of him. Muscle me up, roid me up, decide what I wear, and make me show off what he turned me into.

[collarchronicles]

Downfall series: from accountant to tradie

See the sequence on http://www.patreon.com/collarchronicles

[bigwishes]

LIKE OR REBLOG IF YOU WANT TO TURN INTO A SWEATY, BELCHING BODYBUILDER OVERNIGHT!

[fatisthenewshape]

Come at the GYM

video - muscular tf - bald

[streetcontroloperative-deactiva]

Dream Future

I want nothing more than to be given a hivis uniform and told to become a refuse/recycling loader or street cleaner

[bluecollarchub]

Same

[worklad12]

Then let's make it happen

[elegantmeathead-deactivated2019]

You would quit working to be a full time meathead

Reblog if you’d make the gym and gains your full time job — so we can find and sponsor you.

[westcoastmusclebro]

Fantasy

[growmehugedaddy]

Goals right there. 💉💪🏻💰

[roidlover]

Roid up, workout, evolve.

[grunglord-deactivated20250203]

Yes

[megaglatze84]

[collarchronicles]

From Lab Coats to Long Hauls

Dr. Elliot Carter had it all under control—white coat, sterile lab, a future built on logic and precision. Until one night, a stranger walked in. No warning. No explanation. Just a device… and a flash.

Suddenly, the formulas don’t make sense. His hands aren’t the same. His world smells like diesel and black coffee. And the man in the mirror? He doesn’t look like a scientist anymore.

What happens when your identity slips through your fingers—thickening, roughening, and taking you with it? From Lab Coats to Long Hauls is an intense descent into change, masculinity, and the strange comfort of forgetting who you were.

You’ll feel it happening. You’ll question everything. And by the end, you’ll call him El.

Read it now:

Get more from Collar Chronicles on Patreon

[collarchronicles]

From Lab Coats to Long Hauls

Dr. Elliot Carter had it all under control—white coat, sterile lab, a future built on logic and precision. Until one night, a stranger walked in. No warning. No explanation. Just a device… and a flash.

Suddenly, the formulas don’t make sense. His hands aren’t the same. His world smells like diesel and black coffee. And the man in the mirror? He doesn’t look like a scientist anymore.

What happens when your identity slips through your fingers—thickening, roughening, and taking you with it? From Lab Coats to Long Hauls is an intense descent into change, masculinity, and the strange comfort of forgetting who you were.

You’ll feel it happening. You’ll question everything. And by the end, you’ll call him El.

Read it now:

Get more from Collar Chronicles on Patreon

[collarchronicles]

He used to be someone else. A sharp suit. A high-rise view. Deadlines and espresso shots. Now he’s just Tony. Hairy. Bearded. Reeking of sweat, bleach, and something dangerously masculine. “Bleach and Bristles” is a raw, disorienting descent into a new self— one that smells like work, feels like power, and thinks with its fists. A transformation story like no other: visceral, irreversible, and soaked in tension.

👉 Read it now.

If you crave that rush of confusion, that thrill of losing control, this is your next obsession. ⚠️ Once it starts… there’s no going back. ⚠️ And he wouldn’t want to.

[tfalpha88]

[collarchronicles]

MANNZ STYLEZ

Ever walked into a barbershop and walked out a whole different man? Not metaphorically. We're talking tattoos you didn’t have, muscles that feel like they’ve worked a decade of overtime, and memories that aren’t yours — until they are.

💈 A flickering neon sign. 🪞 A barber with hands like cinder blocks. ⚒️ A transformation you never asked for… but can’t undo.

From white collar to blue collar. From “just a trim” to "Mate, it’s hot as hell today…”

One wrong haircut, and your life isn’t yours anymore.

👉 Read it now on Collar Chronicles. But be warned — you might not recognize yourself by the end.

[aismoker-deactivated20250722]

You used to be so ambitious. You went to the best Law School in the country. You worked hard and it was paying off. Rumor had it, that you were going to be the valedictorian of your year. Beside this, you kept yourself in perfect shape, as you knew that appearance was so important if you wanted to land your dream job in a good firm.

But then, on that fatefull night after your finals were over, you decided to enjoy yourself a bit, by going to a party.

The moment that you arrived there, you knew you had made a mistake. You had thought it would be some kind of fancy soiree, with lots of professors from the University, the perfect opportunity to improve your network. It turned out, however, that it was a party for, what you called, despucables, men without ambition, who didn't do any effort to make something of their lives. The room was filled with them, all chugging down beer and smoking stinking cigars. You wanted to leave immediately, but before you could lift your heels, one of them had put a paw around you.

"First time here, eh? You don't really fit in, don't ya? Don't worry, have a drink and soon you're one of the guys." He then pushed a beer can in your face. You didn't know the brand. You didn't want to drink it, but the guy forced it down into your throat.

Once the can was empty, he let go of you. You stumbled away from him, but then you let out aloud belch. You heard the guy shout: "We've got another one!" All the guys cheered and you heard yourself cheer along with them. It was as if am ancient instinct in you had woken up. You said to the guy: "Hand me another can, bro, and you got a stick for me too? It's time to party!"

That was two months ago. That night at the party had done wonders to you. You didn't give a rat's ass about law anymore, nor of those fancy pricks at the university. Instead you loved hanging out with your buddies, drinking beer and smoking cigars after work. Yeah, they got you a job at the beer factory. It was an easy job, but thibking was starting to get harder and harder, but you didn't need it anyways. Looking back at it now, you couldn't help but laugh about it. You used to reek of ambition, instead you reeked of stale beer and cigars. And you fucking loved it.

[collarchronicles]

One click too far

What happens when curiosity leads you to the darkest corner of the web? Giuseppe only wanted to disappear—ditch his past, his polished white-collar life, his name. One late-night search was all it took. Now he’s no one. Or maybe… Bogdan.

From clean-cut lawyer to nameless immigrant laborer—this transformation doesn’t ask for permission. It just downloads.

Full identity replacement. No turning back. Read “One Click Too Far” now on Collar Chronicles.

One Click Too Far | Collar Chronicles

Get more from Collar Chronicles on Patreon

[collarchronicles]

From White Collar to Blue Collar: A Journey Lived Firsthand (And Why I’ve Been Away)

Hello, dear readers of Collar Chronicles.

First off, I want to apologize for my recent silence here. Life took a dramatic, unexpected turn that I didn’t see coming. The past month has been a whirlwind, filled with a transformation that, until now, I had only envisioned through my characters. This time, though, the shift from white-collar to blue-collar living didn’t just happen on paper—it became my own reality.

For years, I was embedded in an environment that seemed, on the surface, prestigious and secure. But beneath that polished exterior lay a toxic culture, constantly demanding higher performance and tearing down my efforts. Every contribution, every attempt to bring something new to the table was scrutinized and criticized. Then came the final straw—a particularly biting insult that cut deeper than any before. In that moment, I realized I was done. I left, quite literally slamming the door behind me.

This wasn’t just an emotional or symbolic shift. In a twist of fate, I found myself working as a laborer under a former master— an architect—who had previously introduced me to the ropes of a more hands-on trade. Strange as it may sound, embracing this change has offered a kind of fulfillment I hadn’t experienced in ages. There’s a grounding clarity in physical work, and each day spent in the fresh air, building something tangible, has felt like a breath of fresh life. I’m now tasting the reality of a blue-collar existence, and, at least for now, it’s brought a sense of balance and satisfaction that I needed.

This journey has sparked so many new ideas for Collar Chronicles, and I can’t wait to share them. You can expect fresh, raw stories, with a newfound authenticity that only comes from living the narrative myself. And along with these stories, I’ll be experimenting with how they’re told—bringing more life, more truth, and a few surprises to keep things exciting.

Thank you for your patience. A flood of new tales awaits, and I promise, they’ll be worth the wait.

From White Collar to Blue Collar: A Journey Lived Firsthand (And Why I’ve Been Away) | Collar Chronicles

Get more from Collar Chronicles on Patreon

[aismoker-deactivated20250722]

"Yeah, this is our newest lad. He used to be this typical cocky, arrogant university type, thinking he knew everything. He thought he could make a quick buck by taking a summer job with us, to pay for his holiday in a fancy place, or whatever. The fucker didn't know that we had other plans for him. You see, we don't do temp jobs. Once in, you never get out. And look at him now, we turned that moaning know-it-all into a proper lad. A filthy lad, proud to be one of us. He still moans though, but only when we fuck him."

[gaytamorfosi]

Fix you a little bit

🇬🇧 ("Una sistemata" Versione Inglese)

When that boy arrived at my house, I immediately realized that he was way out of my league. He was young, blond and beautiful. I had convinced him to come to my place to have sex with surprising ease. I didn't even know his name, but within minutes we were both in our underwear and ready to pounce on each other. "First, I need to fix you a little bit  " he said with a smirk on his lips. 

I didn't have time to ask questions or investigate further. The boy held out his arm towards me and suddenly I was overcome by an ecstatic feeling. I felt every fiber of my body relax and shake, as if I were immersed in a bubbling hot tub. My body felt heavy and still; even if I had had a shred of willpower or self-control, I probably wouldn't have been able to move. 

Without realizing it, My appearance began to change according to that boy's will: I became more muscular, taller, older. When I reached my final form, I started moving again according to my will, but I understood that my only purpose was to satisfy that boy. I felt grateful to have been shaped that way. Now I was a living wet dream, his wet dream.