Dad bod rob
This guy is so HOT! Shame he’s not on tiktok anymore! That bellyyyy!!!
DEAR READER
Sade Olutola

if i look back, i am lost
Keni
wallacepolsom

ellievsbear
cherry valley forever
we're not kids anymore.
will byers stan first human second
Mike Driver
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

#extradirty

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occasionally subtle
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
$LAYYYTER

Love Begins
trying on a metaphor

Discoholic 🪩

Andulka
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@fatgorgeousguys
Dad bod rob
This guy is so HOT! Shame he’s not on tiktok anymore! That bellyyyy!!!
Write something triggering based on being hacked and installing the goon virus from bro to bro. Each of their transformations are different, a reflection of their deepest inner desires.
[This Quick and Dirty story was written by a human (me) based on a prompt that was previously sent to generative AI. I wrote it in one uninterrupted stream-of-consciousness flow with a hard time limit of 20 minutes. It is not perfect. No edits have been made, except to correct typos. Feel free to use my asks to send me more prompts!
For this one, I think I took a real left turn from the actual prompt, so I’m sorry if this isn’t exactly what you were looking for, anon! Oh, and thank you to @dumberswitch for providing the third image. (He has brought it to my attention that the man in said image is Australian, not English, which is actually quite obvious, but y’all, I only had 20 minutes 😵 please roll with it)]
Clayton was hanging out with his three best friends, who had just helped him move into his new apartment. They had all met the year before, during their freshman year of college, and they had bonded quickly over a shared taste in women, movies, sports, and well… everything.
They were relaxing after a tiring day, but Clayton could feel their palpable boredom, so he decided to come up with something fun to do.
“How about we each go around and say something we’re thankful for?” he asked.
Roderick sighed and said, “I’ll bite,” lowering the speed on his exercise bike so he could speak more easily. “I’m thankful I never gained the freshman 15.”
“I’m thankful for England,” said Chris, who was lying on the bed re-reading a Douglas Adams book and not really paying attention.
“I’m thankful for my pickup truck,” said John, who was peering out the window making sure his new truck was still there. It had just proven its usefulness in helping Clayton move all of his shit.
“And I’m thankful for my friends,” said Clayton. “Thanks again for helping me out today. I really owe you one.”
“Well, that was fun” said John, sarcastically. “Now what?”
Clayton racked his brains. “Oh! Why don’t I download that new app everyone’s been trying out!”
“Goonr?” asked Roderick. “The joke one that tells you your gooning style or whatever? I don’t really get it.”
“My friend Des tried it and he really got a kick out of it,” said Clayton, shrugging.
“Des is a perv,” said Chris. “But sure, why the hell not?”
Within minutes, the app was downloaded on Clayton’s phone and they all huddled around it. The loading icon finally cleared and what was revealed were the words “Friends.”
“Is that it?” asked John.
Clayton shrugged. “Guess so. At least it was free.”
Suddenly, all three of his friends’ phones pinged. They opened them to find that the Goonr app had spontaneously downloaded itself onto all of their phones.
“Is this some sort of promotion?” asked Chris. “Like that shitty U2 album that Apple put on everybody’s phones?”
One by one, the loading icons cleared. Roderick’s phone said “Fitness.”
Chris’ phone said “England.”
And John’s phone said “Truck.”
Simultaneously, all of their phones starting glowing white, momentarily blinding them all. When Roderick’s eyes cleared, he found that he was still sitting on the bike, blinking dazedly. “What the…” he said, before catching sight of himself in the mirror on the wall in front of him.
“Damn, I’m looking yoked,” he said, appreciatively.
He flexed his bicep. It looked big. He flexed his other bicep. It looked… bigger. Were they mismatched? He frowned and flexed the other one again. OK, it must have been a trick of the light. It bulged out properly, matching the other one.
He felt his dick stiffen in his pants. Fuck, was he making himself hard? That was embarrassing. But he was hot… He flexed his quads. Bam, bam! They bulged and grew. Fuck… He was such a stud. He lifted his shirt, admiring the six-pack abs that were bulging and growing from his flat stomach.
His dick got harder and harder. It felt like it was practically squirming. He touched it and his mind went white.
Chris’ eyes cleared next. The first thing he saw was his friend Roddy, feverishly pumping his meat while rubbing his abs and pedaling on the exercise bike. His hair looked a bit disheveled, and he had a short beard, as if he hadn’t shaved in a few days. Chris was about to panic when his attention was caught by his book, still lying open on the bed. He loved Douglas Adams so much. He loved everything English.
English literature, English culture, English food. English rugby. English beer. English girls. He even dressed English. He looked down to see his grey clothes shimmering and becoming bright yellow rugby kit.
“Fuckin’ ‘ell mate, what’s going on?” he asked. Hell, he even sounded English. Just hearing his voice turned him on so fucking much. He pulled down his shorts and started rubbing his cock, thinking about his favorite Page 3 models.
John’s eyes cleared next, revealing Roddy whacking off (again? He never stopped) and John lying on the bed, grinning.
He winked at John and pulled out his cock, beginning to wank himself off. His eyes crossed with sheer pleasure.
John averted his gaze, looking outside to see his truck. His pristine new truck, with that lovely moon roof and those Truck Nuts and all the mud on the bottom and the dents and… John felt dizzy. Was it dirtier than it was supposed to be? Was he dirtier than he was supposed to be? His hair suddenly felt greasy, as it began to lengthen and slide down his neck. He jammed his trucker cap over it to keep it contained, just as his trash stash grew in on his upper lip, nice and thick. He looked back out at his truck and thought about all the country babes he had wanted to plow out in the cornfield when he was growing up in Arkansas. His cock got hard in his pants. Would anybody mind if he…
Clayton’s eyes finally cleared, and he could see his friends. There was Roddy, feeling himself up. Pre-cum beaded at the tip of his red cock as his other hand furiously slid up and down his shaft.
There was Chris, going “oi” and “bruv” every few seconds as his spit-slick hand wanked his member. There was Jonno, shirtless (as usual) and sticking his tongue out as he beat his meat furiously.
God, they were all so hot. His friends, jerking their hogs, not a care in the world. This was all he wanted to see, all he wanted to think about, ever.
So that’s what he did. He stopped thinking about the job interview he had in the morning, or what he wanted to get for dinner, or even the fact that none of the four of them had looked quite like this a few minutes ago. All he could think about was his masturbating friends. He wanted to join them so bad. He whipped off his clothes, leaned over on the desk, and started going to town on himself, drooling as he stared intensely at the three hunks beating their meat in front of him. God, he was so thankful for his friends.
The Curse of the Himbos
“I’m telling you, Chester, the class is cursed!” Thomas said to his best friend.
“There’s no way that a class can be cursed. It’s a metaphysical conception, and besides, I don’t believe in curses and magic and all that junk anyways.”
“Okay, okay, I hear you about the curse and all, but do you really wanna spend your time tutoring dumb jocks?” Thomas asked. “I heard one of them got two plus two wrong when asked!”
“That’s the reason why I want to do this,” Chester said. “I want to break the dumb jock stereotype, and turn them into nerdy jocks!”
“Good luck with that!” chuckled Thomas. “Well, it was nice talking to ya, Chester, but I have to go now. Have fun with your dumb jocks!” Chester didn’t respond as Thomas walked away, leaving the school by the front door a minute or so later. As for Chester, he walked down the hall the other way to the supposed cursed classroom. He knocked on the door and entered the room to find several dumb jocks, himbos even, goofing around, probably waiting for him to arrive.
“Yo, are you, like, our tutor for today, eheheh?” asked one of the himbo jocks.
“Yes, yes I am,” Chester said. “Now, if all of you would have a seat, I would like to get started quickly. You men have a lot to learn and there’s only so much time in the day!” He then tugged on his shirt a little bit. “Are any of you guys hot?” he asked, as he was getting his materials ready.
“Yeah, like, lots of people say, like, we’re hot, eheheh!” said another himbo jock, who promptly got punched in the shoulder by a third one.
“No, brah, he meant, like, the temperature! Nah, teach, we’re, like, all good!”
“Oh, okay,” Chester said. He did sometimes get hot flashes after all, so it was probably just one of them. He didn’t expect the himbo jocks to be so nice, though. They followed his orders quickly, all of them sitting down at a desk already, and correcting each other when they got something wrong, which admittedly would happen quite often with this group of men. “Let’s get started then! We’re going to start with some mathematics. Normally I wouldn’t start this low, but you guys need the help. So, one plus one equals two and two plus two equals four.”
“Oh, so, like, that’s the answer, eheheh!” said the himbo jock that Thomas had overheard getting the math problem wrong once before. The math portion of the lesson today was going surprisingly well, and all of the himbos were getting it somewhat quickly. They weren’t afraid to ask questions and help each out too. Chester was getting a bit annoyed with their language, but that would be hard to change, and at least all of them could speak in grammatically correct full sentences! As he switched over to the basic science lesson he was going to teach them today, he noticed something a bit odd. His shirt was getting to be a bit tight.
“Hmm,” he wondered. “Is it really that hot in here that my shirt would be sticking to my skin? The himbo jocks don’t look hot and their clothes still fit perfectly?” Their clothes were showing off their muscles too, but Chester was more focused on teaching than on the muscular hunks sitting in front of him. He didn’t realize that his shirt was getting tight because he was gaining muscle, slowly but surely getting to be the same size as the himbo jocks. Throughout the course of the science lesson, which was about volcanoes to hopefully pique the himbo jocks’ interest, there were some other changes, these ones happening below the literal belt.
Chester’s pants slowly changed materials, and length, going from chinos to athletic shorts. The change happened gradually, the material changing first and then more and more of the pant leg disappearing into thin air until he was wearing athletic shorts, just like the himbo jocks. As for his underwear, that changed too, from boxers to briefs. This change was also gradual but invisible to the himbo jocks, since it was both happening at the same time as the pants change as well as the fact that the pants still covered the underwear. Fabric slowly but surely disappeared from the pair of underwear, and it even changed brands as well, going from Fruit of the Loom to a brand called EWA.
Surprisingly, Chester didn’t notice these changes at all. He was too busy teaching the himbo jocks, who were also enamored by learning about volcanoes. A few of them did happen to notice the clothing changes because of the angle they were sitting at, but they didn’t say a thing. Towards the end of the science lesson and the beginning of the social studies lesson, there was another clothing change totally outside of Chester’s control. As he droned on about the Revolutionary War, his hoodie slowly but surely began disappearing, and this time around, nothing was replacing it. The fabric just disappeared into thin air, and since it was much closer to Chester’s face, he was much more likely to notice the changes, which he did, eventually.
Along with the disappearing hoodie, his shirt changed as well, still straining from his new muscles. However, this one was mostly just the sleeves disappearing, the shirt becoming a tank top instead of a long-sleeved button-down shirt. The buttons disappeared as well, merging with the new fabric of the shirt, until Chester was wearing a tank top just like most of the himbo jocks in the room. When he finally looked down to check his notes on a topic he always seemed to forget about when talking about the war, he realized the changes and screamed.
“GAH! What the heck is going on here!? Is this classroom really cursed? I’m out of here!” he screamed, not caring about turning himbo jocks into nerdy jocks anymore. There were transformations already happening that he didn’t like, and Chester rushed over to the door, only to find it locked. He didn’t remember locking it when he came in, and none of the himbo jocks had left the room to go to the bathroom or leave early or anything like that. “Let me out! Let me OUT!” Chester bellowed as he banged on the door. Unfortunately, no one was around to hear him.
One of the himbo jocks, the closest one to the door, grabbed him, and all of the himbo jocks in the room began chanting “One of us, one of us,” like they were in some cult. Chester was horrified by the implications of their statement, but was soon distracted by the himbo taking his shirt off and massaging his muscles.
“That feels so good!” he moaned, drawing out the words as the himbo massaging his big muscles. Surprisingly, Chester was getting more and more turned on by the massage for some reason. He identified as straight and was open to experimenting with guys, but he didn’t think he would be enjoying it this much. His cock was bulging in his briefs and was even obviously tenting out his athletic shorts as well. As the massage continued, another himbo opened his backpack and took out a gold chain, like many guys wore, including most of the himbo jocks in this classroom.
He walked over to Chester and placed it around his neck, Chester oblivious to the action as he was getting turned on immensely from the himbo jock massage. Another himbo jock took a baseball cap out of his backpack and did the same thing, placing it on Chester’s head backwards, of course. While the gold chain didn’t have any special powers or anything, the cap certainly did. Chester could feel his intelligence moving through his body, a strange feeling that he had no way of describing, even if he could right now. He was still lost in the orgasmic high of the massage and hornier than he had ever been in his life before, but he did realize that his intelligence ended up in his balls, nearly all of his intelligence moving from his brain to his balls now churning with cum.
It didn’t help that soon after the cap was placed on his head, two more himbo jocks came around and began rubbing his throbbing erect cock through his pants and underwear. They then took turns stroking Chester’s cock, making sure he didn’t cum just yet as more and more of his intelligence was being drained into his balls. Additionally, some other himbo jocks were playing with his nipples, sucking on them and twisting them to cause him an erotic mix of pain and pleasure during the handjob. It wasn’t just the nipples being played with, though, but most of Chester’s other erogenous zones. The himbo jocks stroking his clothed cock had a hard time making sure he didn’t cum from all of the pleasure Chester was currently feeling.
In the midst of all of this, Chester had a moment of lucidity and realized just what was happening to him. He tried to take the cap off of his head, since surprisingly, none of the himbos were holding his limbs down. However, as if by magic or some other force, two himbo jocks appeared by his side and held his arms down tightly, so that he could barely move them, let alone grab the cap off of his head.
Eventually, all of the intelligence from his brain had made its way to his balls, Chester now technically no smarter than the himbo jocks he was assigned to tutor. The two himbo jocks stroking his cock finally allowed him to cum, with Chester having an enormous cumshot from all of the edging that he had just endured. His cum flew across the room and then trickled out from his cock, all of his intelligence coming out with it. Once the last drops of cum made their way out of his cock, Chester grabbed his cap and took it off for some reason. However, it was too late for Chester, even if he realized why he was doing it in the first place. He was just another dumb himbo jock.
A couple weeks later
Chester was hanging out in the locker room with the rest of the himbo jocks. They had just played a game of basketball, skins vs. skins, and they were all sweaty and musky. One of the few himbo jocks who hadn’t been playing with walked into the locker room and made an announcement. “They, like, found out another tutor, eheheh!”
“Another himbo jock to, like, add to the group, eheheh!” said most of the other jocks, Chester included. He loved living life as a himbo jock without a care in the world. Sure, he couldn’t understand what two plus two meant, but who needed math when you had a body like his?
Hey there boy. See something you like? Or should I say, smell something you like? Yeah, that’s it. My daddy musk has already got your eyes glazed over and your dick leaking. Come over here, get closer. It’s so much better to bury your face right in there, and huff it directly from my pits. With each breath you take you’re getting dumber and dumber and you’re getting more and more beefy. I can see the muscle growing on your body while I see you leaking all your brains away out of your dick. There you go, switch over to the other pit. Nothing better than taking an ordinary college guy and making him a big dumb jock. Especially guys that truly dig my stink. Guys like you can really lap up all the sweat that collects under there, get nice and big. Fuck, at this rate you might as well try out for wrestling or the defensive line. A big brute like you, who has no problem getting up close and personal with other musky men, you belong playing sports. Whoops, we better slow down. You’ve already rippee your shirt to shreds, I don’t want you getting stopped by the police if you break open your pants. Why don’t you run back to your dorm and start jerking off. Your cock’s got to be massive by now, and since you’re no longer going to be worried about studying or homework or shit, you have a lot more time to jerk off and find guys to fuck. After all, who’s going to want to turn down a beefy man like you? You must be 250 pounds of muscle, hairy all over, with a cock to match. Tell you what, why don’t you give me your number. When I finish up later, I can come over and show you how a real man fucks. And don’t worry, you can sniff my pits plenty more than. I’ll even do you a favor and skip the post-work shower. Sound good sport?
Are you excited to see your moobs grow??? Can you feel that fat coating you ur body from sinking in fat and blubber
Yes, I love how soft and heavy I feel now🫠
wait wtf why do I look like a big fat guy from the back now
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Don't be shy, cute boy
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oh my.... good beautiful pie
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