CountryBoy729

[manforge]

[itstransformingtime]

Jake and Mark were once the epitome of modern fitness social media influencers. With chiseled abs, lean muscles, and dedication to their health, they lived their lives in the gym, and had gained a large social media following. Jake, prided himself on his sculpted physique, while Mark, was known for his perfectly toned body that garnered thousands of likes with every post. They spent hours discussing protein shakes, workout routines, and the next big fitness trend. Their father, Harold, loved them dearly, but he often felt disconnected from their world. He longed for a simpler time when hard work was valued over appearance.

Their father Harold had always been a bit disappointed in them, he had wanted them to take over the family business and join him in the building trade. He tried his best to convince them, to offer them money, but both of them were to obsessed that they would lose their gains.

So, he decided that he would need some outside help to persuade them and ordered the Chronivac. A device that could alter reality and give him sons he would be proud off. He loaded the device up on his computer and put a simple command in. "Make my sons builders in my company"

As the device hummed to life, reality around them began to warp.

For Jake and Mark, the change started subtly at first, a tingling sensation spreading through their bodies. They both felt an odd warmth in their muscles, a pleasant but unfamiliar heaviness settling in. It was as if their muscles were softening, expanding, and reshaping all at once.

Their lean, athletic frames began to swell, slowly losing the hard definition they had worked so hard to achieve. Their washboard abs softened, gradually rounding out into solid bellies. The skin on their stomachs stretched as they grew, no longer clinging tightly to muscle but rather the fat that was now growing. Their shirts tightening uncomfortably around their growing stomachs.

Jake, who had always prided himself on his slim waist and sharp lines, watched in stunned fascination as his narrow torso thickened. His broad shoulders remained, but now they led down to a body built for strength and endurance rather than aesthetics. His arms grew more powerful but lost their ripped appearance, becoming thick and strong with the kind of muscle that came from years of hard work, not isolated gym sessions. His chest puffed out into a solid, rounded shape that pressed against his shirt.

Mark's transformation mirrored his brother's. His influencer physique shifted into something more natural, more grounded. His once-toned thighs thickened, his legs growing sturdy and powerful, built for carrying heavy loads instead of performing perfect squats. His biceps, though still muscular, became bulkier, his forearms thicker and dusted with a hint of hair, giving him the look of someone who had spent years lifting bricks rather than dumbbells. His belly grew too, growing large than his brothers.

Their faces changed too, subtly at first. Their jawlines softened just a bit, the angles of their cheeks rounding slightly.

As they continued to transform they pressed their growing bellies together.

Their clothes no longer fit the way they used to, they were now tight on their body. But that did not last long as their tight gym shorts and workout tops were replaced with sweatpants and, the fabric stretching comfortably over their new physiques. They looked at each other, both a little bewildered, but also smiling, feeling an odd sense of rightness as if they had finally become who they were always meant to be.

As their bodies continued to shift, so did their memories. The grueling workouts, the strict diets, the endless pursuit of physical perfection—they all faded, replaced by memories of growing up in and wanting to be like their dad. They remembered working alongside their dad on construction sites, learning the value of hard work and the satisfaction of a job well done. Their bond as brothers deepened, no longer based on shared gym sessions but on shared experiences, building together, and enjoying hearty meals after a long day.

When the transformation was complete, Jake and Mark stood before each other, not as the fitness fanatics they once were, but as sturdy, slightly overweight builders with round bellies and strong, capable hands. Their physiques were no longer built aesthetics but for a days hard work.

They were no longer worried about calorie counts or perfect form. Instead, in this new reality, they just ate anything and everything they could get their hands on.

[itstransformingtime]

Well, I must say that 2026 has been one hell of an eventful year so far.

You wouldn’t have thought that at the start of the year I was a scrawny eighteen year old, fresh out of high school with no idea what I wanted to do with my life. Skinny arms, narrow shoulders, a baby face that still got me carded everywhere. Pathetic.

Then I found LifeMaker.

At first I was nervous. Just small changes, right? I started with muscle. Every morning I’d wake up and make myself a little bigger. My shoulders slowly rounded out. My chest pushed forward, pecs swelling into two firm plates that stretched my shirts. My arms thickened with every passing day, my biceps peaking higher, veins starting to show. My legs exploded with size, quads pressing against my jeans until the seams screamed for mercy.

I loved watching it in the mirror. The way my body widened, the way my back developed that powerful V-taper. I went from looking like a boy to looking like a man who lifted heavy shit for fun.

But I wanted more.

So I started adding age. One year per day.

It was addictive.

Day by day, my face matured. The soft teenage features hardened. My jaw became squarer, more angular. A thick, dark beard filled in across my cheeks and chin. My hair went from messy and youthful to a sharp, styled look with a touch of silver at the temples. Wrinkles formed around my eyes, not enough to make me look old, just enough to give me that experienced, masculine edge.

My body kept growing too. The muscle became denser, heavier. My chest got thicker and hairier. My shoulders broadened even more. My voice dropped another octave, turning into a deep, commanding rumble. By the time I hit what felt like my mid-30s, I was a full-blown beast, the kind of guy who turns heads when he walks into any gym.

That’s me in the photo.

Standing there in a tank top that barely contains my massive chest and shoulders, thick beard perfectly trimmed, tattoos I added snaking down my arm. I’m easily 6’2 now, 245 pounds of solid, powerful muscle. The kind of man who looks like he owns the room.

I still can’t believe it sometimes. Six months ago I was jerking off to transformation stories, dreaming about this exact body. Now I’m living it. Every day I wake up, flex in the mirror, and feel my heavy pecs bounce. I love the way my beard feels when I run my hand over it. I love how deep my voice is when I grunt during heavy sets. I love the respect I get when I walk through the gym.

LifeMaker gave me complete control. I’m still adding a little more size here and there, and I might push my age up a few more years just to see how daddy I can look.

But for now? I just stand here, phone in hand, admiring the man I’ve become. From scrawny, lost 18 year old to this, it was the best fucking decision I ever made.

[itstransformingtime]

I used to be a desk worker for a large technology company. Our business almost went bust and they had to lay off half the staff. I was one of the unlucky ones who suddenly found myself unemployed.

After three months of rejections, the only company that got back to me was a construction firm needing a laborer. I was a skinny 25-year-old who had never touched a weight in my life, but I was desperate, so I showed up for the interview anyway.

The foreman took one look at my scrawny arms and chuckled. “You sure about this, kid? You look like a stiff breeze would knock you over.” But they were short-staffed, so he told me to start the next morning on a trial basis.

That first day was brutal. By lunch I was already dying — sunburnt, exhausted, and ready to quit. I sat on a stack of bricks trying to catch my breath when the foreman walked over holding a large plastic bottle.

“Here,” he said with a knowing grin, tossing it to me. “New guys always need a little something to help them adjust. Drink it all. Trust me.”

It was ice-cold and tasted strange — a mix of electrolytes and something metallic and bitter. I was so thirsty I chugged the whole thing in one go.

The heat hit me almost instantly.

A deep, rolling warmth exploded in my stomach and spread outward like wildfire. My shoulders cracked and widened fast, muscle packing on thick and heavy. My chest swelled outward into two massive, hairy pecs while dark curls rapidly spread across them. My arms ballooned, biceps and triceps exploding with size, veins popping as my forearms thickened with raw power.

My stomach rounded out hard into a solid, hairy gut that pushed over the waistband of my pants. A tattoo appeared right across it in bold letters. My legs thickened into tree trunks, thighs rubbing together as my ass filled out the back of my shorts. My pits started giving off a strong, manly stink with every movement.

My face changed too. My jaw squared off, my features roughened, and a full, thick beard grew in dark and heavy. My hair receded into a tight buzzcut. Even my height shot up to 6’2”, my feet swelling into size 13s that split my old shoes apart.

My clothes didn’t survive either. My button-up and slacks disintegrated in the heat, replaced instantly by a pair of loose black work shorts and nothing else. A pair of beat-up black flip-flops appeared on my feet.

I stood up, now a big, hairy, muscular beast of a man, sweat pouring down my new gut and chest.

The foreman laughed and slapped my hairy belly hard. “There you go, big man. Looks like the special drink did its job. You’re one of us now.”

I flexed my thick arm, feeling the power surge through me. No more desk job. No more skinny nerd. No more stress about bills or interviews.

Now I spend my days hauling heavy shit around the site, sweating under the sun, and throwing back beers with the crew after work. My hands are calloused, my back is strong, and this gut jiggles a little when I walk but fuck, it feels right.

I still remember my old life… but I wouldn’t trade this one for anything.

Especially not when I’m walking around shirtless, carrying a massive bag of tools over my shoulder like it weighs nothing, looking exactly like the hairy beast I’ve become.

This is my life now.

And I fucking love it.

[itstransformingtime]

“This book is so boring. Why the fuck did I pick English as a major?” my roommate Aaron groaned for the third time that evening.

He was sprawled on the couch in his usual baggy hoodie and shorts, skinny legs dangling off the edge, looking every bit the pale, nerdy English student he was. I sighed and tried to ignore him, flipping through my own textbook.

“Why couldn’t I have picked something easy like Sports Science or whatever?” he whined again.

I couldn’t help but smirk. Aaron was as skinny as they came, he had no muscle, no coordination, zero interest in anything athletic. Still, if it would shut him up…

I had discovered long ago that I could change one thing about a person’s life. Just one. Permanent. Reality would rewrite itself around whatever it was I changed and make it so the rest of their life and the world would fit.

So I focused on him and made the change.

Aaron’s major is now Sports Science.

The world rippled.

I felt the shift wash over the room like a wave. When I looked back at the couch, my jaw dropped.

Aaron was gone.

In his place lounged a total jock god.

He was massive. Thick, powerful legs covered in dark, intricate tattoos stretched across the couch, his quads and calves bulging even while relaxed. He now had rock-l hard abs and a broad, sculpted chest. His arms were covered in full sleeves of ink, one draped lazily behind his head while the other held a book he was clearly no longer interested in. A red cap sat backwards on his head, and his jaw had sharpened into a strong, masculine line with a perfectly trimmed beard.

“Bro… why the fuck am I reading a book?” His voice was deep and lazy now, full of that effortless jock confidence.

He tossed the book aside and stretched, the movement making his entire muscular body flex and shift. The tank top pulled tight across his wide chest as he scratched at his abs absentmindedly. His thick legs shifted, the heavy bulge in his tight white Calvin Klein briefs impossible to ignore.

Aaron looked over at me with a cocky grin.

“Yo, dude. My brain feels fucking fried from all these plays and training drills. When’s practice again?” He flexed one massive arm casually, admiring the way his bicep peaked. “Shit, I’ve gotten huge this semester.”

I just stared, heart racing. The change had rewritten everything. His clothes, his major, his body, even his personality. The skinny English nerd was completely gone. In his place was this tattooed, muscular Sports Science jock who looked like he lived in the gym and partied every weekend.

He swung his powerful legs off the couch and stood up, towering over me. The way his quads and glutes flexed as he moved was hypnotic.

“Wanna hit the gym with me, bro? I need to get a good pump in before the game this weekend.”

He grinned, completely oblivious to the fact that just thirty seconds ago he had been complaining about Shakespeare.

I swallowed hard, trying not to stare at his incredible new body. I wondered if he would let me suck his cock. It’s not everyday you turn your nerdy roommate into an absolute beast

[itstransformingtime]

I can’t believe that this has happened again! Ever since I rejected that guy who turned out to be a wizard every time I have gone on a date with a new guy he ends up transforming into some cocky straight guy.

Just a few minutes ago I was on a lovely date with Michael, a sweet guy I matched with on a dating app. He was a student at the other university in town, a Computer Science major.

But to my horror, half way through the date the changes happened, subtle at first, he began growing taller and bulking up, as his hair softened and styled itself while his face become more angular, some stubble appearing on his face.

The shirt he was wearing was straining to contain the growing muscles and as he let out an obnoxious belch it ripped, exposing his large pecs and six pack, before reforming into a tight black T-shirt. Tattoos soon traced themselves over his new large muscles and although I could not see it, I know his cock and balls were also growing.

The transformation complete he was now Mikey a cocky Sports Science major and a member of the wrestling team. He said he matches with gay guys for a free meal to get him through colleges all him money goes on booze. He flexes arrogantly saying that he’ll pay me back with tickets to the gun show, as he shows of him large biceps, but if I buy him desert he might let me suck his cock, he said with a smirk as he grabbed his cock through his pants.

[b0dyshaper]

What? I thought you said you wanted to be manlier? That’s exactly what I made you.

Don’t you feel that testosterone burning its way down your body? That newfound muscle aching to flex? Those tiny prickly feeling of new hairs sprouting all over your body?

Sure you’re quite a bit older now, but chicks dig that. Huh? Oh you’re gay? Pfft, yea no that won’t stay that way for long, after all a MAN likes pussy.

[ginger-binge]

feeders hmu in the dm’s

[dirtybulkr]

😳

[dirtybulkr]

[urshunt]

[misctf]

Being the youngest cop on the force kind of sucks sometimes.

Sure, I get all the boring paperwork, all the terrible shifts, and somehow every job nobody else wants. But this time it landed me a pretty unusual opportunity.

For the past few months, there’ve been reports of suspicious activity surrounding a fraternity on campus. A few disappearances. Rumors about a new designer drug making its way through the student population. Nothing concrete, but enough to get my lieutenant interested.

So naturally, someone in the department watched way too many undercover cop movies and decided the best solution was to send me in.

Apparently I still look young enough to pass for a college student.

Lucky me.

I’ve been undercover for almost three weeks now, and honestly? I’m starting to think my lieutenant got it completely wrong.

These guys don’t seem like criminals.

They’re loud. They’re immature. They’re obsessed with parties, the gym, and finding excuses to put their hands on literally anyone willing to tolerate them for more than five seconds.

Meanwhile I’m over here trying to remember I’m a police officer and not lose sight of why I came.

But being reckless, horny, and terminally allergic to responsibility doesn’t automatically make someone a criminal.

So far I’ve found nothing.

No drugs.

No trafficking.

No evidence connecting them to any disappearances.

Nothing.

I’m about ready to file my report and tell my lieutenant this whole thing was a waste of department resources.

Still…

Tomorrow night the fraternity is throwing one of their biggest parties of the semester.

Before I close the book on this investigation, I’m going to take one last look around the house while everyone is distracted.

Just to be thorough.

Just to make sure I didn’t miss anything.

After all, it would be pretty embarrassing to tell my lieutenant he was wrong…

…and then discover he was right.

I remember the day I joined the force. Dad was a cop. My older brothers were cops. But earning that badge mattered more. Academy, field training, endless exams... it took years. So when I finally pinned that shield to my chest, I thought people would finally see me as an officer. Instead I got:

"Damn, kid, just get outta middle school?"

"You ever think about growin' a beard? If you can..."

"You're twenty-seven? No way."

It never stopped. But it did come in handy for my assignment. Lieutenant James had slid a stack of files across his desk.

"Missing persons. Every one of 'em has ties to the same fraternity." Dr. Richard Peters. Christopher Saint. Paul Monroe. Different backgrounds, same house, then they vanished. "We think there's a new designer drug involved," the lieutenant said. "Brothers keep talking about being addicted, needing more, not being able to leave."

"So you want me undercover."

"You still pass for a student. Don't disappoint me."

So Officer Andrew Miller disappeared. Tyler took his place. Tyler was twenty-one, undeclared, and incapable of owning sleeves. I'd spent department time learning beer pong and fantasy football. The lieutenant's advice was simple: act young, act dumb, make friends.

Luke made the last two surprisingly easy. That first night he walked over, threw an arm around my shoulders, handed me a beer, and twenty minutes later had me doing a keg stand while everyone screamed my fake name. And you know what? I had fun. Luke wasn't secretive. Gym, food runs, parties... if I skipped an event to organize notes, he'd text asking where I'd gone. He never asked me to prove myself. He just included me.

"You'll get it," Richie told me while lifting. "Luke figures out what you need."

"What'd he figure out for you?"

"Needed to stop givin' so many fucks."

Everyone said the same. Luke gave them confidence, stopped their worrying, made them happy. Nobody knew how. And somewhere along the way, I stopped pretending every conversation was just work. One late night outside, he stared into the backyard. "Everybody wants something from me."

"That's depressing."

"I'm serious. They come here wantin' a better body, more friends, less stress."

"And you fix it?"

"Sometimes." He grew quite, "What about you? What do you want?"

"Nothin'," I lied. "Just wanted to see what you guys are about."

Luke studied me, smiling. "That's it?"

"That's it."

I didn't know it then, but that answer meant everything to him. For two weeks Luke trusted me more than anyone. By the end of the third week, he had me pledge. But by that time, I'd decided the investigation had gone nowhere. Friday night's party would be my last look before filing my report.

------------------------

Pushing open the front door, I realized I'd actually miss the place. Mostly Luke. But instead of the warm greeting from the guys like I was expecting, I got cold indifference.

"Luke wants you upstairs," Chris said, avoiding my eye.

"Everything okay?"

"Go ask him."

I climbed the stairs and pushed open Luke's door, where I found him sprawled shirtless across the leather couch, backward cap over his dark hair, staring at me with hurt eyes.

"Everything good?"

Luke sat up. "Close the door, bro."

"Luke..."

"Close it all the way." He stopped, "Officer Miller."

My hand was on the doorknob, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Luke laughed bitterly, standing up. "A fucking cop? Bro, I did a keg stand with you! You held my ankles! Two weeks ago I puked behind a Wendy's and you rubbed my back!"

"Luke, listen..."

"I bought you a Baconator!" He buried his head in his hands. "Fuck, bro! What the fuck?!"

"People are missing..."

"No one's fucking missing."

"Where..."

"You can't fuckin' mess with people like this."

I stepped toward him. "I want you to stop screwing around and take me seriously."

"Why the fuck would I?"

The question hit the exact wrong nerve. "Because nobody fucking does!" Years of swallowed frustration spilled out. "I'm sick of having to prove myself! I'm a police officer. Quit talking to me like I'm fifteen and take me seriously!"

Luke went completely still, then flashed a shit-eating grin. "Oh, bro."

"What?"

"You shouldn't have said that."

"Why?"

"You wanted something from me." He shook his head, "All my pledges get what they want."

The itch started beneath my jaw. I scratched, but my fingertips dragged across something coarse.

"Aw, fuck, bro. Here we go."

"Wait... what is...?"

Twenty-seven years old and I'd never grown real stubble. Now my fingertips scraped over coarse hair rapidly peppering my jawline.

"What the fuck did you do?"

Luke came toward me. "Dude, you did this."

My jaw cramped. Pressure spread through the bone until my teeth ached, my chin becoming heavier as the lower half of my face broadened.

"Stop it."

"You wanted people to quit looking at you like you're twelve, right?" He scraped his knuckles through the new growth along my jaw. "Heard you loud and clear, bro."

Then my chest began to hurt. The ache was deep inside both pecs, building like post-lift soreness. I pressed my palms against myself and felt the muscles swell outward, packing with new mass while my shirt tightened. My shoulders burned as they broadened, pulling the fabric taut, and both sleeves cinched around my biceps as the muscles expanded.

Luke whistled. "Damn, Ty."

"That's not my... don't call me that."

"Oh, I'm definitely calling you that." He slammed both hands against my chest, pushing into muscles that hadn't been there a minute ago. "Bro, these are getting fucking huge."

He hooked both hands into the front of my shirt and yanked. The fabric tore with a sharp rip along the shoulders. He peeled the ruined shirt away, staring at the body underneath.

"Those look like they belong to a dude people take seriously."

"Fuck... fuck you..." I groaned and winced as my biceps cramped.

I grabbed my right arm, feeling it swell, steadily thickening until my fingers couldn't reach around it. Luke wrapped his hand around the other, squeezed, and laughed.

"Jesus Christ, bro."

"Stop fucking enjoying this!"

"Why? I'm finally getting something I want too." He looked directly into my eyes. "Everybody comes to me wanting shit, Andrew. Maybe finally it's my turn, bro." He took a step closer, pressing up against me, "I want you. I want Tyler."

An intense itch erupted across my bare chest. Coarse hair pushed through my skin beneath my fingertips, thickening between my pecs before spreading outward and trailing down my stomach.

"Chest hair?"

Luke stared openly. "Damn." His hand dragged slowly across my chest, flattening the new hair before finding the swollen muscle beneath, squeezing one pec appreciatively. "Never had that before either, huh?"

"Nnn... no."

"Looks good on you, bro."

I hated the little rush that went through me. "Shut up."

"Twenty-six."

"What?"

"Twenty-six."

"I'm twenty-seven."

"Twenty-five now."

"Bullshit." I reached for my phone, but I wasn't used to my thicker fingers. The phone dropped and I got a glimpse of the dark hair now spreading over my thickened forearms, "I... Fuck I need... back-up..." the Lieuteniants's extension was... I knew it. Of course I knew it.

"Tyler."

"No... I'm... Andrew."

"Sure you are, dude."

Another wave of pressure rolled through my chest, and I groaned as my pecs swelled heavier beneath Luke's hands.

"You're doing good, Ty," he said, rubbing his thumbs through the hair covering them. "Looking real good too."

"You really think so?" The question escaped before I could stop it. Luke smiled, sending a warm flush through me. "You're messing with my head."

"Gift's doing that."

"Then make it fucking stop, bro." I froze. I heard the word echoing in my own head. "Why'd I call you bro?"

"'Cause that's how Tyler talks."

"I'm not Tyler."

"Twenty-four."

"Fuck you."

"Twenty-three."

I tried to concentrate on the investigation, but Luke kept rubbing my chest, talking to me while my thoughts blurred.

"Same shit happened to Richie," Luke said with a smug grin. "Professor dude wanted to quit stressin'. CJ wanted friends. PJ wanted med school apps to stop kickin' his ass. My gift fixes shit, bro. Gives people what they want. All they gotta do is ask." He shrugged, "Don't ask me why everybody ends up like… this." He chuckled at my confusion, "Like one of my new frat bros, bro. Really works out pretty fuckin' great for me, though."

Richie. Dr. Richard Peters. The realization hit. I'd spent three weeks lifting beside one of the missing men.

"You did this to all of them?"

"They asked for something. So did you."

"I asked you to take me seriously!"

"And I'm gonna."

His hand settled against the center of my chest, and the panic faded. Luke had been my suspect, but underneath those facts were three weeks of workouts, parties, jokes, and nights talking shoulder-to-shoulder. I knew the smell of him. I knew how his hand felt gripping my shoulder.

"Relax, Ty."

"Can't."

"Sure you can." He grinned, "Let me help ya, bro."

His mouth was suddenly against mine. My hands grabbed his dense shoulders to push him away, but instead settled on them as I kissed him back. His hands moved over my swollen arms, squeezing my biceps before sliding across my chest. Every approving touch felt... so fuckin' good. I begrudgingly tore myself away, breathing hard.

"What the fuck did I just do?"

"You kissed me."

"I know what I fucking did!"

"Didn't seem like you hated it."

"I don't..."

Luke kissed me again, and my resistance lasted seconds. My thickened arms wrapped around him while his hands explored my chest, fingers kneading through the hair before sliding up to feel my stubble.

"Twenty-two," he murmured when we separated briefly.

Our mouths locked together in a sloppy, desperate kiss, moaning into each other. Luke's palms slid down over my waist, cupping my hips, dropping beneath the waistband of my pants to grip my growing ass. He squeezed hard, kneading into the thick, muscle-packed curves.

"Bro... fuck..." I was breathing hard. Why was twenty-two bad? Something about twenty-seven. Some guy who... no. Me. Right?

"You're fuckin' gorgeous, Ty."

"You mean it, bro?" I mumbled, voice thick and desperate.

"Course I do."

So I kissed him again. His skin smelled like cedarwood and sweat, and instead of wanting space, I pulled him closer. Everything about him was addictive... the warmth of his body, the scratch of his skin, the sound of his breathing, the way his hands roamed across my hairy chest.

"Twenty-one."

Something clicked into place and Luke laughed when I pulled him against me, burying my face in his neck. I wanted him close, so fuckin' close. To feel him, smell him, worship him.

"Love you, bro," I mumbled against his skin, kissing his jaw.

"Love you too, Ty," Luke whispered, his hands sliding down to grip my heavy ass cheeks again.

The friction of our heavy bulges pressing hard against each other through layers of fabric made a low, strangled whine tear out of my throat. My hips bucked forward instinctively, grinding our groins together, and I felt his thick, rigid cock, swollen and desperate against my own throbbing, leaking length.

"Fuck… Ty, you're driving me insane," Luke gasped, a ragged, breathless moan tearing from his chest.

"Let me take care of it, bro," I murmured, a half-dazed grin spreading across my face.

Luke’s breath hitched sharply in sudden surprise as I shoved his jeans and boxers down in one fierce motion. His heavy, already-leaking cock sprang free, hot and throbbing in the dim light. Without a second thought, I dropped heavily to my knees between his thighs, my gaze locking up onto his flushed, half-delirious face.

"Ty…" he breathed out, voice cracking as my mouth closed over him.

That was when the door opened.

Richie stopped in the doorway. "Damn, Ty..."

Fuckin' Richie... Always getting in the fuckin' way, "Bruh, get the fuck out."

"Dude..." Richie grinned, "That's a rough fuckin' 21."

"Fuck you!" I laughed, scrambling to my feet, "What's that supposed to mean?"

I ran calloused hand through the thick, dark mat of chest hair sweeping across my broad pecs. People always acted so surprised by how much hair I had. Not my fault I hit puberty at like 8. Bunch of dumbasses. Besides, as long as Luke liked it, didn't really matter.

"Can't you see we're fuckin' busy, bro?" My swollen cock ached inside my jeans. I pointed a thick finger at the door, "Get the fuck out, man!"

"Hey, take it easy, big guy. Just came to see if you were ready to head back downstairs. The keg's overflowing, and half the house is asking where their favorite pledge went."

"Get lost, Richie," Luke muttered, his breathless rasp sending a fresh jolt of horniness straight to my groin.

"Alright, alright, I'm going," Richie chuckled, closing the door.

Once it shut, my gaze locked onto Luke as he fell back onto the mattress, his heavy, leaking cock completely exposed and begging for attention.

"Where were we, bro?" I murmured, laying atop him, pressing a hot, greedy kiss to his lips before trailing my mouth eagerly down his throat, sliding lower over his chest and stomach until my lips wrapped firmly around his thick, leaking cock.

[read24111]

[johnnylangnehs]

[johnnylangnehs]

[johnnylangnehs]

[johnnylangnehs]