Greased Rough

Male Transformations after contact with leather

[bodyswappertransforming]

Barber chair transformation

In the midst of the city’s ceaseless rhythm, a modest barbershop offered a retreat from the chaos. Into this haven stepped Jonathan, a 35-year-old with a rebellious mane and a wild beard that had not seen scissors or razors in what seemed like ages. His long hair flowed like a river unchecked, and his beard was a dense forest, hiding much of his countenance from the world. It was more than just hair; it was a shield, a declaration of his independence from the rigid corporate life he had once known.

Yet, on this particular day, Jonathan felt an urge for change stirring within him. Seated in the vintage barber’s chair, he looked into Mr. Collins’s eyes, the seasoned barber, and said, “Do whatever you like. I’m ready for something new.”

Mr. Collins, whose hands had sculpted countless transformations, examined Jonathan’s features thoughtfully. Without uttering a single word, he began his craft. The shop’s ambiance, filled with the gentle jazz, became the backdrop to the symphony of snipping and buzzing.

An hour and a half later, Jonathan was asked to face the mirror, and the reflection that greeted him was astonishing. The wild man who had entered was gone. Instead, Jonathan saw someone he barely recognized. His head was completely shaved, giving him a clean, sleek look that highlighted the shape of his skull and the strength of his features. The beard had been masterfully transformed into a horseshoe-style mustache, framing his mouth with an air of distinguished boldness. Jonathan gazed at his new self, exploring the lines of this fresh identity with a mix of awe and curiosity.

As the chair slowly swiveled, the anticipation built like the crescendo of a symphony. The moment Jonathan's gaze met the mirror, time seemed to stand still. Gone were the flowing locks and the untamed beard that had been his companions for years. In their place, a polished, completely shaved head gleamed under the barbershop's lights—a bold canvas declaring a new beginning. His beard, once a light blonde testament to his natural style, was now transformed into a striking horseshoe mustache, dyed a jet black that contrasted sharply against his skin, marking the dawn of a new era in his life.In that instant of revelation, an unfamiliar yet exhilarating desire washed over Jonathan. The urge for a rich, aromatic cigar tugged at him, a symbol of sophistication and a newfound pleasure he yearned to explore. Alongside this craving came an irrepressible call to freedom—the open road, the roar of an engine, the rush of the wind. It was as if the motorcycle he had always dreamed of owning was calling out to him, a call to adventure he could no longer ignore.Embracing this surge of new desires, Jonathan's transformation extended far beyond the barbershop. The week that followed was a whirlwind of change. He ventured into the world of leather, each outfit meticulously chosen not just for its style but for the statement it made. Jackets, boots, gloves—all pieces of a persona that was as much a reflection of his inner transformation as his external one.The culmination of his metamorphosis was the acquisition of a Harley Davidson, a machine that symbolized the essence of his new identity. It wasn't just a motorcycle; it was freedom incarnate, a steel steed that carried him towards a horizon of endless possibilities. With the throttle under his grip and the pavement streaking by, Jonathan embraced the exhilaration of the open road, a world where he could be unapologetically himself.As the days passed, the ritual of enjoying a cigar became a cherished moment of reflection. Each puff was a celebration, a moment to savor the rich tapestry of changes that had woven a new fabric of his identity. Jonathan had not only adopted a new look and lifestyle but had also embraced his sexuality with pride. The transformation had unlocked a part of him that had yearned for expression, allowing him to live openly and authentically as a gay man.Jonathan's journey was a testament to the transformative power of self-expression. From the moment the barber's tools had sculpted his new image, to the miles he covered on his Harley, and the smoke that danced from his cigars, every aspect of his new life was a declaration of his true self. He had not only changed how the world saw him but how he saw himself—bold, free, and unbound by convention. This wasn't just a new chapter; it was a whole new book, one where Jonathan was the author of his destiny, riding into the future with leather, smoke, and the roar of his Harley echoing into the night.

[ki-kink]

hey bro can you do to me what you did for Chad Golden I was thinking Greece or Roman in Italy?

In Fiumicino you get an E-Vespa instead of the Fiat 500 you actually ordered. But maybe you just didn't understand the Budget employee. His English is a disaster. And your Italian is non-existent. Somehow you manage to agree that you won't be able to get your luggage into your AirBnB in Trastevere with the Vespa. He wants your address. You write it down for him. He promises to deliver your suitcase. And so you're standing in front of the Vespa in the parking garage with just your laptop bag over your shoulder and a stylish rental helmet. Yeah, it looks pretty cool. But now you're supposed to ride all the way into the city center on this lame thing. And damn it, it's only 40 percent charged. range just 20 kilometers. Your cell phone says you have 28 kilometers to go. Shit, you'll have to make a stop somewhere to recharge.

You're zooming along the country road at 40 km/h. That's all the Vespa can do. Range still ten kilometers. Shit! Thank God there's a petrol station with a charging station up ahead. While the Vespa charges, you go for an espresso. The gas station attendant asks you if that's your Diavel V4 out there. “La mio bambino” you say almost tenderly. “Un bambino con un bel caratterino” replies the gas station attendant with a grin. “Ci puoi scommettere!” you reply and drink your café.

Rome and Lazio are your home. You love your city and the surrounding area almost as much as you love your bike. And you love your job as a tour guide. Guiding tourists on the best motorcycles in the world through the Eternal City and into the surrounding mountains and to the sea was an absolute gap in the market. The horde of American college jocks takes a few photos of the Colloseum. And then it's on to the EUR site. Perhaps not the most attractive sight in the city. But a good opportunity to get your baby up to speed again in between.

[futureperfectchanges]

The Leather Jackets

"How about this one?" Finn asked as he held up a leather jacket to show to his friend Greg. "Seems a bit smaller than the others."

"Maybe, although perhaps we should try somewhere else?" Greg replied, he was getting a bit nervous now that they were actually in a store looking at jackets. A couple of nights ago they had gone to Infernos, their local club, and seen a flyer for an upcoming leather night. One thing had led to another and Greg had admitted that he had always had a bit of a thing for guys in leather. Greg had definitely not expected Finn to then suggest going to the leather night, but was excited when he did as he would never have had the courage to go on his own.

The only problem was that the flyer had said wearing something leather was mandatory, and neither of them owned anything suitable. They had joked about getting some harnesses, but had decided to play safe and go for leather jackets. Finn had already found a jacket he thought was good, but everything had been a bit too large for Greg. "Let's just try these on, and if they don't fit we'll try somewhere else."

So the friends made their way to the changing room where Finn was the first to try on his jacket. Finn was the more outgoing of the two, and had always enjoyed going out in fancy dress which was why he'd suggested attending the leather night, but even he was now worrying they might not be able to pull these costumes off. Finn had a bit of a baby face, so once he slipped his jacket on and saw himself in the mirror his first thought was that he looked like a child wearing adult clothes trying to look tough.

Finn had expected the leather to feel cool, which it was to start with, but once the jacket was on he was surprised to get a bit flushed. He was worried he might start sweating into the leather, but the warmth quickly faded away at which point he noticed just how comfortable the jacket felt.

Finn smirked a little as he looked at himself in the mirror. He straightened his back and pushed out his chest to show off his chiselled body. He started thinking of the other leather jackets he had but couldn't remember any fitting as well as this one.

"See Greg, nothing like a leather jacket to help make you look like a man. I'm glad you've finally agreed to join me at a leather night, and if you are anything like me you're going to love it." Finn said confidently as he checked himself out in the mirror.

"That's fine for you to say, you've worn stuff like this for years and have the body to suit it. I just don't think I can pull it off, especially not with something that is too large for me. I think we should go somewhere else." Greg said starting to lose whatever confidence he had.

"Well we are here now so you might as well try that jacket on. You'll at least know if you like the feel of it." Finn replied. He knew his friends at the leather night would love Greg regardless of what he looked like in the jacket.

Greg reluctantly started to put on the jacket. What he had not told Finn is that his interest in leather was not about looking cool. Instead it was about domination. He had always been small, weak and mostly submissive, but when he thought of leather he thought of heavily built intimidating men and everything he wasn't.

So Greg knew that even if the jacket had been his size it would never be right to him, something which was confirmed to him as he looked at himself in the mirror. Greg thought he looked ridiculous and knew that the idea of going to a leather night had been a huge mistake. Greg started to feel anxious as he thought about how he should never have said anything to Finn. The jacket started to feel suffocating around Greg's body, but before he could take it off he felt the ball of anxiety in his chest burst out across his whole body.

"Wow, that looks great on you Greg" Finn said as Greg admired himself in the mirror.

"What did you call me Boy?" Greg barked back whilst staying focused on the mirror.

"Sorry, I meant the jacket looks great on you Sir."

"Another slip up like that and i'll be forced to punish you." Greg firmly replied as he turned to face Finn, with both of them getting turned on by the thought of what might come later.

[theundergroundstories]

Greetings master. I'm a 20year dude who wants to learn how to ride a motorcycle so be a biker and more adventurous. I was hoping the underground could help me

The Underground can very much help you but we can’t just rush into things. If you want to be manly, more adventurous you should at least be respectful.

Oh don’t give me the “Oh but sir, I was respectful I called you master” shit. I’m not talking about being respectful to me, although you should. I’m talking about respecting the bikers, the motorcycles and the leather jackets. Being a biker is more than a lifestyle it’s a culture in itself. There’s a history to how the biker we envision today came to be. I won’t explain the complete history but at least take the time to appreciate and learn the history of the iconic leather biker jacket. 

The leather jacket itself has become a fashion icon that has very masculine quality to them that exudes power and coolness but did you know the original company behind the iconic biker design started manufacturing these awesome jackets in 1913. Or the fact that leather jackets were used very heavily by the military during World War 2. Not to mention we owe a thanks to great legends like Marlon Brando and that old Brit David Beckham for populating the leather jacket fashion. If they didn’t they wouldn’t be the timeless badass fashion trend they are today.

Now that you learned some history you ready for your own? You ready to respect the leather and biker lifestyle? You are? Just be warned, if you don’t I’ll make you regret your disrespect and trap you as this leather jacket.

I say as I hold a huge leather jacket for you to wear. You nod and slip your hands in the sleeves. The jacket hangs loosely on you as you feel the heavy heft of the jacket and feel the rich smooth leather material. Your body starting to swell larger. Your hair lightens and your chin starts to feel itchy as you grow a nice bushy beard and your moustache fills out some more. Your nose broadens as you feel your dick grow two inches longer to be a larger than average six inch stick. You stand up more straight as you notice you know stand at a respectable 6′2. The jacket now fits perfectly on your body and I hand you some shades to go with your new look

Keep in mind what we talked about today alright? The moment you loose sight of what it means to be a biker and a man, you’ll be absorbed into the jacket for another man to use. Now with that enjoy your new adventures.

[jockbender]

Listen Carefully

It was a hot night, the kind of night I like, the kind of night when I know it’s going to get raunchy at The Pit.  As I prepared to leave my apartment and walk the five blocks to the club, I examined my latest body in the hall mirror with a thrill of anticipation.  

The receding hairline and close crop was a new look for me but I liked the way it set off the cute, bearded face I’d acquired from that hot barista yesterday morning.  My furry chest was nicely muscled and generous but not oversized arms made me look like I looked after myself.  As an afterthought, I reckoned a couple of tatts would complete the look.  I only had to say it and they were there, two stars, one above each pec where they met my delts.

Satisfied with my body, I turned my attention to clothing and decided I’d hit the club dressed in black leather motorcycle breeches with white stripes and a pair of knee high Dehners.  Once again, I spoke the words, a statement of fact describing what I was wearing and reality complied, bending to the inevitability of my powers of suggestion leaving me dressed in form fitting leather that hugged my legs and feet with a gentle warm pressure.

Dressed and ready to rock, I adjusted my package through the supple leather and as an afterthought added a white cotton jockstrap for a little extra support.  I looked perfect, a hot young muscle cub dressed in form fitting black leather.  I’d be the star attraction of the evening and I began to chub up at the thought of all the hot bottoms I’d find to dominate later on.

Stepping out into the night, the humid air hit me like a fuzzy wall and I set off confidently in the direction of The Pit, the pleasant nervous energy of anticipation building as I strutted confidently through the streets.  Turning the corner at the end of my block, I was barrelled into by a preppy looking kid in his early twenties who nearly knocked me off my feet as he tried to run past me.  Losing his balance, he fell heavily into the gutter and stumbling unsteadily to his feet, began ranting at me.

“Look what you did you fucking fruit!” He yelled as he unsuccessfully attempted to brush off a wide streak of dirt from the front of his polo shirt.  "Fuck, look at me!  This shirt’s ruined.“

The shirt certainly was beyond repair.  A wide rip he clearly hadn’t noticed revealed the pale skin of his right shoulder where the sleeve had partly separated from the body and numerous grimy marks marred the light blue fabric.  Irritated by his self-indulgent arrogance, I felt a well of anger building in me and the tingling crackle of my power shimmered on the surface of my consciousness urging me to vent my frustration.

“Shirt?” I said questioningly, folding my arms to emphasise their bulk as I approached him slowly.  "You’re not wearing a shirt.  You prefer to go topless.“

The instant I said it, the bedraggled polo evaporated into thin air revealing a lean, pale body with the beginnings of a paunch around his navel.  He looked vaguely puzzled, as he stood in front of me peering down at the grimy streaks that now clung to his skin as if he’d never been wearing the shirt when he fell.

"Shirt?” He replied dazedly, absently rubbing at a small cut on his shoulder.  "Listen fag, just cos I prefer to go topless on a warm night doesn’t give fruits like you an open invite to hit on me.“

"You sure about that?  After all you’re a fag too otherwise why else would you be on your way to The Pit?”

“I, uh, I don’t know.” he replied rubbing his forehead. “Look, just leave me alone, I’m not looking for any trouble OK?”

His sudden submissiveness was intriguing and I suddenly had an idea where to take the scene.  I struck an attitude in front of him flexing my new muscles ostentatiously and fixing him with a hard stare as I prepared the words in my mind.

“You’re very muscular though.” I taunted.  "You must work out at least five times a week.“

He shuddered slightly.  The ripple in reality quickly engulfed him, his thin, pallid physique swelling with hard wrought muscle and sinew as he stumbled, adjusting to the thick frame of a hard core iron junkie.  His clothes changed instantaneously, the ratty cargo shorts transforming into shiny, loose basketball shorts over spandex compression gear while his beat up sneakers morphed into Converse All-stars.

In a moment, the scrawny youth was gone, replaced by an off season bodybuilder dressed in the clichéd gym rat uniform that makes them look like adults dressed as kids.  He gazed dumbly around himself, clearly having forgotten what he was doing standing on the sidewalk talking to me.

"You eat well too though don’t you.” I stated firmly.  "That’s how you stay so ripped.“

The change came quicker this time, the soft covering of fat at his hips, chest, arms and abdomen melting away to reveal striated muscle bisected by a network of veins that spoke of fastidious attention to macros and meal plans.  His clothing changed again too, a backwards baseball cap now perched precariously on top of a mane of carefully styled hair while his compression shorts extended into shiny workout tights and his Converse morphed into expensive looking purple high-tops.

He preened himself, subtly flexing his arms and causing the veins to pop a little more. His abrasive arrogance had completely evaporated by now, replaced with the self-assured confidence of a man who knows he looks good and isn’t afraid to brag about it.

"You know it bro!” He said with a smirk, clearly keen to show a lesser mortal that you only get to be his size through a supreme effort of hard work and dedication.  "They love to worship my guns down at The Pit, in fact, I gotta make tracks or I’ll be late.“ He continued.

"Well all that work certainly pays off.” I replied, indicating in the direction of the club with the implication we should walk together.  "That’s why you got that sleeve tattoo isn’t it.“

"Uh yeah” he said vaguely, examining himself with a confused look as the intricate design burst forth across the taut, tanned skin of his swollen right arm. “Yeah… those little guys dig the tats.  Has ‘em begging to worship the muscle too, know what I mean bro?”  He said nudging me with an oversized tricep as we walked through the thinning evening crowds in the direction of The Pit.

I mumbled agreement but the jock bro frat boy thing was never really my style and it was already beginning to grate on me.  That said, I was suprised how good the guy looked with a little meat on him and it gave me an idea.

With an outline of a plan for how I could make my evening more fun, I decided to change the dynamic.

“I love your leather jeans.” I said, matter of factly.  "They’re custom made aren’t they.“

"Are they?” He said uncertainly, his stride adjusting subtly as the spandex workout tights and basketball shorts shifted seamlessly into smooth black leather pants.  His high-tops crept up his legs, transforming rapidly into duplicates of my own polished black Dehners, the metal capped heels clicking smartly on the sidewalk as we continued to walk toward The Pit.

“Sure, that’s why they fit so snugly against your ass and make you horny when you wear them.”

“Yeah… Horny.” He echoed vaguely, more as a statement than a question. “Mmm, you know it man!”  The overconfident look in his eyes had begun to change to one of lust and I laughed to myself as he ran his thick callused hands over the tight globes of his ass, clearly relishing the feel of the leather.

Looking over at him as we neared the club, I caught him stealing glances at me.  A light sweat had broken out on his smooth, hairless chest and he directed my gaze down to his crotch where his thick cock was now clearly visible snaking down one pant leg.  He grabbed it suggestively.

“Just wait till I get in there tonight man,” he continued, excitedly. “Those little twinks aren’t going to know what hit ‘em!”

I smiled back at him, impressed, despite myself with the incredible changes my powers of suggestion had wrought on this unsuspecting man.  He was as hot as fuck now and the insistent tingle of excitement in my groin was getting the better of me as I made up my mind where to take the scene.

“Twinks?” I questioned with a laugh, preparing to seal his fate with a few final changes.

“You don’t fuck little guys.  Let’s face it, you’re definitely no top I mean, just look at those cuffs and chains.”

He stumbled slightly in surprise as a pair leather cuffs bound his wrists and a short length of chain drew his hands behind his back.  I was impressed, despite myself and I nearly creamed my jock as I took in the now slightly submissive posture my leather clad creation had adopted.

We’d arrived at the entrance of the club by now and the warm night air was filled with the dull thud of a heavy bassline pulsing deep within.  My new leather man was about to reach out to knock on the door when I checked him and drew him towards me.

He put up no resistance as I took the chains that bound his wrists and pulled them gently nearer to me.  His eyes were filled with lust as he leant towards me expectantly and I could almost feel his heartbeat in the heat of his ragged breaths.

“Yes… I know what you are.” I whispered, pausing to lean in and nibble the soft skin of his ears.

“The shaved head gives it away” I went on. “Yeah, you’re just a horny muscle slave looking for a master!”

He nodded feebly as the final change engulfed him, his ball cap and the hair it covered vanishing leaving nothing but short stubble.  

A deep moan escaped his lips and he dropped his head submissively as he took his rightful place behind me.

Satisfied, I knocked firmly on the door, looking forward with a pleasurable sense of anticipation to what would now definitely be a night to remember.

[fredwkong]

I wish this new leather jacket I just bought suited me more. I thought I’d look sexy in it but I look like a nerdy guy in a jacket that’s too good for him. I want to shrug on this black biker jacket and turn off all my ticks and anxieties, even my conscience. I’m tired of caring about other people. I wanna be a selfish, horny, cocky bad boy.

The genie roars up next to you on a motorcycle. He lifts his shades and looks over your body, clearly unimpressed. “Take a free bonus,” he says, and throws you a pair of leather gloves.

Back at home, you gingerly slide your hands into the warm, supple interior of the gloves. The instant they’re all the way on, you feel a jolt like electricity up your arms. When your head clears, you give yourself a sneer in the mirror. You look fucking fantastic. Were you always wearing leather pants? Doesn’t matter, you decide.

You strut up behind your roommate. He’s playing some online game, and you have a better use for his hands and mouth. “Hey, faggot,” you say, grabbing him by the shoulder and spinning his chair around. At your touch, he blinks, his mind rewiring as his shirt transforms into a leather tank top.

You take his seat in the chair, wad up some saliva in your mouth, and spit on the inner thigh of your leather pants. “Clean it,” you bark at your roommate, and he immediately starts to lick at your leather-clad crotch, then mouths at your growing bulge as you grunt and thrust into his face.

If you ever take off the gloves and jacket, you’ll get your empathy and self-control back, but the new you probably doesn’t want to do that, ever.

Another wish fulfilled.

Got a wish you need twisted? Send an ask! Remember to say “I wish” so the genie hears exactly what you’re wishing for.

[fullleatherman]

[octuscle-deactivated20250620]

Actually, Benjamin didn’t really know why he went to the fun fair in the first place. Roller coasters used to be fun for him. But today, all his bones would certainly ache. Chain carousel? He was definitely too fat for that. Cotton candy? Beer? Bratwurst? He didn’t like any of them. And the audience here was too young, too loud, too chavvy… So: What was he doing here? Benjamin shrugged his shoulders inwardly. Maybe he was longing for a time long gone, when he himself would have liked to be young, loud and chavvy? In fact, he never was. He had always been a well-adjusted child with few friends. And chess or astronomy hadn’t exactly been loud hobbies for the cool kids. Maybe as he drove past the fun fair in the cab, he had remembered BIG. One of the first movies with Tom Hanks. My God, he had seen it at the movies. How many years ago was that? Fifty? He had no idea. But the overnight transformation of the hero had been the first transformation where something like a sexual fantasy had shown up in him. He really hadn’t been to a fun fair in decades. But maybe here he found the miracle to transform his old, sick and completely out of shape body.

Of course, there was no ancient machine here that looked like the one in the movie. There was no enchanted tent with a creepy fortune teller either. There were bumper cars. There was a ghost train. And at least there was a lottery booth. Well, it couldn’t hurt to buy a lottery ticket. And sure enough, it wasn’t a loser. It was a small, cheap-looking picture frame. But in it, after all, was a photo of a young man who looked young, loud, and chavvy. Oh well. Benjamin put the frame in his coat pocket; he could always throw it away when he got home.

Benjamin made his way home. A cab wasn’t coming by. By the time he had climbed the stairs to his spacious old apartment on the third floor, he was actually a little out of breath. Taking off his coat, he noticed the picture frame. For one night, that could sit quietly on the nightstand. By the time Benjamin had eaten dinner and gotten ready for the night, he had long since forgotten his visit to the fun fair and the photo.

This can’t be true! This is a cursed dream! There is no magic! Benjamin walked through his apartment the next morning, completely distraught. It had been like in a bad movie. Benjamin had gone to the bathroom to pee. As was his habit, he sat down to do it. At his age, he could no longer aim well. Suddenly he noticed that everything was different. He had a tight morning wood. His morning wood had an impressive Prince Albert piercing. He held the morning glory in his hands, skin colorfully inked but otherwise immaculately smooth. Curses. He turned around in the guest bathroom and looked in the mirror. His reflection was the young man from the picture on the nightstand. So not one-to-one. He would say his reflection looked like he would have looked when he was maybe 22. If he had spent a lot of time at the tattoo artist. And if he had played a lot of sports. The picture, where was the picture? He had put it on the nightstand. But it wasn’t there anymore. There was a picture of him as he had looked last night. An old, sick man in his late 70’s. The photo was carefully staged, he looked good. And the frame was sterling silver, like most of the frames of his pictures of friends and relatives he had long since buried. And this picture frame also had black crape stretched across one corner. Curses! Was he dead? Was this heaven?

The apartment looked the same as it had last night. His cleaning lady had just been there, everything was neat and clean. He had a nice apartment where he had accumulated many nice things in his life. The only thing that didn’t fit in the apartment was a naked, athletic young man in his early 20s who had tattoos all over his body and, in addition to the PA, had a pretty fat rod stuck in his nipples. Fuck!“Fuck” obviously suited him better than “Curses.” Fuck! Actually, he would put on some tea at this hour, now he needed something stronger. Somehow he felt like a whiskey, but he didn’t have anything like that in the house. A cognac. Oh well, better than nothing. And maybe some music would calm him down. There was still a recording of “Four Last Songs” by Strauss in the CD player from last night. That would help. My God, was the music loud, had he really been so deaf. Startled, he turned down the volume.

The cognac helped, the music helped. And then the doorbell rang. Fuck, he was still naked. And his clothes wouldn’t fit him anymore. There was a heavy knock on the door. What was he going to do now. He still had an old pair of track pants in his closet. He had gone to physiotherapy in them God knows how long ago, they should fit to some extent. The knocking continued. “Hello!” he heard his neighbor call from downstairs. “Is anyone there?”. Benjamin pulled up his pants, pulled the drawstring as tight as it would go, took a deep breath, and opened the door. Mrs. Gruber flinched in fright as she looked up into his face. But composed herself surprisingly quickly. And smiled at him, to his horror. “You must be Ben,” she said, extending her hand to him. “Your great uncle has told me so much about you. And he wasn’t lying, the family resemblance is amazing. Allow me to offer my sincere condolences.” Benjamin didn’t understand anything. But he pulled himself together and invited Mrs. Gruber inside. He apologized for being upset, but lied that his suitcase had been lost and that he had to see if anything fit him here. Mrs. Gruber waved him off. Apparently, the older lady liked what she saw a little, too. “It’s all good,” she replied. “I’m just glad to meet you. I don’t want to be a bother at all, either. If there’s anything you need, I live right below you.” She squeezed his hand and left the apartment. Benjamin realized that she would have to visit the neighbors one by one and tell them about the news. Condolences? Great uncle? What the hell? He didn’t have a brother who could have a son to carry on his name. And he wasn’t dead. Or was he? The picture on the bedside table said so, after all. Benjamin went into the study. There on the desk were a number of unopened letters that had not been there yesterday. Letters from his life insurance companies. Letters from his bank. A letter from the district court. He took the letter opener and opened it. It was the probate of his will. Obviously, he had died yesterday. And today was already a few weeks later. And he was Ben now. And he was his own universal heir. And after opening the letters from the bank and the life insurance companies, he was a very wealthy universal heir. But who the hell was he himself? There were no clothes that matched him, there was nothing to indicate anyone but his old self in that apartment. On the dresser next to the door, keys and wallet lay in the bowl. Just as they always were. With trembling fingers, he took the wallet and pulled out his ID card. He was Ben Horner. In two months he would turn 23. He had just re-registered and now lived in this apartment. There was no driver’s license. Well, he knew from the grandchildren of acquaintances that this was no longer common. But there was a debit card from his bank with his new name. Ben, not Benjamin. And on the cent as much cash as he had had in his wallet yesterday, about 500 euros.

Ben sat on the sofa and sipped the cognac. Fuck, that was a dream! But God knows, not a nightmare. This was better than being in BIG. While he was thinking, he started to play with his cock, lost in thought. And with his nipple. Awesome how the piercings felt. And insane how his cock reacted. When had he ever had such a hard-on? Never, not so big, so plump. Fuck! Ben cummed. Shit, don’t fuck up the pads, he thought. So he massaged his own cum into the skin on his chest. Still, he needed something to wear now.

With the tightest fine-rib shirt he could find, sweatpants and his old adilettes Ben left the house. Because the noble Montblanc wallet didn’t match this outfit, he had simply put the cash and the EC card into his pants pocket. At the door, he had to think for a moment. Where was he supposed to buy something now. He remembered that there was a second-hand store around the corner, where young people like him often went. That’s where he headed. A good choice! Behind the cash register stood a young man who was hardly less inked than himself. And who was similarly well-built, as he himself. Fuck! Couldn’t he get his dick under control at all? Ben had come up with a little story. Visiting the city, suitcase lost by the airline, now he needed something for the next few days. For sports, for going out. And for driving lessons on the motorcycle. That had always been his dream. He wanted to put it into practice immediately. The young man had asked about his budget. Without thinking, Ben said € 2,000.00. The daily limit of the EC card did not allow more, if he remembered correctly. The young man said with a grin that one could do quite a bit for that, assessed Ben’s size, sent him into a changing room and began to pick out things. Two hours and € 2,000.00 later, Ben stepped out into the fresh air again. Biker boots, torn jeans, a tank top that showed plenty of skin and over it an old black motorcycle jacket that smelled of leather and sweat. Trying it on had given him a boner again. But this time the attendant had come to his rescue. For the first time in his life, Ben cum in another guy’s face.

The rest of his purchases were stowed in an old duffel bag from the National People’s Army of the GDR. Money and his EC card, which was non-functional for today, were in a wallet attached to his studded belt by a heavy chain. Now he desperately needed a cell phone. George, the horny guy from the store, wanted his number, but he had never had a cell phone. So he had to give him his landline number. And promise to send him a message as soon as he had a phone.

The next few days flew by. He had given the contents of his closet to the old clothes collection without thinking about it. Everything, without exception. And he had made every effort to fill the closets again. He loved his new body. And wanted to show it off. He had quickly found his new style. Slim jeans or leather pants, tank tops and T-shirts preferably in black or white, leather or bomber jackets. Tracksuits, sleek and shiny. George sold some old pieces of army surplus from Eastern Europe that were a great fit for Ben. He quickly learned to use his new iPhone. He had a harder time with the driving lessons at the beginning. But he mastered that, too. And after just one month, he was proudly driving a used BMW in front of his new favorite café. Twice a week, he took it to the motorcycle workshop to learn more about the engine. He wanted to learn everything. He had learned a lot about how to use his boner from George. He had quickly shed his shyness about being a virgin.

With friends visiting him more and more often, even at home, he had at some point made the decision to part with his old household goods as well. What he had not sold after two months at antique dealers he knew from his last life, at flea markets or on ebay, he finally had picked up. To celebrate the empty apartment, he had invited a few friends. At least since that time he was no longer greeted so friendly in the staircase. For a while, he had considered opening a shared apartment in his old apartment, but the stuffiness of his neighbors pissed him off. So he had hired a real estate agent to sell the apartment and took a room in a student flat-share. Here, no one minded if a party escalated. And the parties escalated frequently.

A year after his great uncle died, Ben stood on the small terrace outside his room and lit a cigarette. God, he loves to smoke. Too bad he had hardly known Benjamin. At least he was only a vague memory now. He owed everything to his great uncle. Tonight, some of his buddies were going to the fun fair with him. Boozing and bawling, drunkenly riding bumper cars. He hadn’t done that in a long time. And should he see a sign that a young man was wanted as a temp, he had made up his mind to apply. A year or two would certainly be fun. For some reason, he loves the fun fair.

[fuckingleatherhot]

[octuscle-deactivated20250620]

John came out of the philharmonic hall. They had given Brahms' German Requiem. Beautiful music. And an extremely attractive baritone, who had his debut today. He couldn't help thinking of him as a passage from the text kept running through his head:

"Behold, I tell you a secret: We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed; and the same suddenly in a moment, at the time of the last trumpet."

Obviously, this did not mean the silencing of the last trumpet of the orchestra. Of course it was about the apocalypse. But what if it had been about the trumpets? How would he have to change to end up with the baritone. John was in his late 60's. Not exactly fat, but far from athletic. He never had been. At least he was always well dressed. His tuxedo fit perfectly, his shoes immaculately polished. All the accessories coordinated. But was that what the baritone was looking for?

John dropped off his cape at the coat check in the restaurant. He had been dressed appropriately for the Philharmonic. Here he was overdressed. His friends with whom he had been on dates had been to the movies or the theater and dressed much more casually. He didn't care, he was looking forward to a relaxed and fun evening. That was fine with Black Tie, too.

Most of his friends said goodbye after dinner, only the hard core still moved to a currently very trendy bar. With the black suit, black shirt and slim black tie, John felt appropriately and stylishly enough dressed. Even more so after he had slipped on his slim-fitting leather coat at the coat check. For a man in his early 50s, he still looked very good. This was also reflected in the far too young bartender, who flirted with him every now and then. Nevertheless, John held out until the bartender asked him if he would still like to have a last drink with him. He was about to call it a night and knew of a cool location that John would definitely like.

To this location it went down a few stairs. So the first thing the bouncer probably saw of John as he descended were his biker boots. Then the jeans, the heavy leather jacket, and then his face. When they made eye contact, John's arrival was acknowledged with an appreciative grin and a curt gesture to go in. Even though it was already 02:00, the place was packed. The air was cutting. So John took off his jacket as quickly as possible and threw it over a coat hook. His companion arrived with two bottles of beer and commented approvingly on John's biceps. And his cool tattoos. Actually, John rarely showed them in public anymore. Sometimes he thought he was actually too old for them in his late 30s. But here it fit. Here, older men were considerably more inked. At some point John had lost sight of the bartender. No wonder, there were plenty of men here who fit him better. Whereas it was obvious that he also had a good chance to get some more fucking here. But somehow this wasn't the place yet. It was not the time yet. So around 04:00 Joe grabbed his jacket and stepped out into the fresh air. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket, lit one and offered the bouncer a smoke as well. The bouncer accepted silently, got a light and asked Joe where he was going now. Grinning, he reached for the bulge in Joe's pants and began to knead it. Joe shrugged his shoulders. The bouncer gave him an address just around the corner and said that he would certainly be able to get there after work in about an hour.

Joe briefly checked his outfit again in the reflection of the window pane, which was covered from the inside with black pond liner. Considering that it was so late, he still looked fresh. And the wifebeater went well with the leather pants. It showed off his tattoos, of which he was so proud, to perfection. He rang the bell, the camera light above the door hung on, and the door opener promptly went on. Joe took a quick look around. The place was nice. He was sure to find a few more holes to fill here. Kneading his boner, he noticed that the pressure on the bladder was increasing. Let's see if he could use it to fill someone in the toilet. The baritone was sitting in the piss trough. And from somewhere Joe thought he could hear a trumpet.

[hypnozys]

Hypnovember 17- Punk

Barry rushed down the hallway and into his apartment making sure to lock the door immediately. Over the past few weeks his apartment complex had really went downhill. His quiet, courteous neighbors were quickly disappearing, making way for obnoxious, rude punks that would eye him menacingly whenever he walked by.

He walked into his apartment and was hit with the strong scent of cigarette smoke. He coughed at the sudden assault and couldn't help but wonder where it came from? He didn't smoke and it was significantly stronger than the passive aroma permeating the halls of his complex nowadays.

His curiousity was quickly sated, only to be replaced with worry, when he heard a voice speak.

"Don't worry mate, you'll get used to it."

Barry whipped around towards the voice and froze when he saw one of the degenerates that had populated his building standing in a corner next to him. He immediately recognized the man however, although reeking of cigarettes, sporting a new haircut and dressed in an rather intimidating leather jacket.

The man had been one of his recently vacant neighbors but looked nothing like the man he remembered. They used to share passing greetings in the hallway, complaining about traffic and how much they hated office work. Now the man was staring at him menacingly after having broken into his apartment. A stark contrast from what Barry remembered.

"I don't want any trouble, just take what you want and go." he stammered, trying to get this over with quickly and peacefully.

The man smirked and and pushed himself from the wall, heading toward Barry.

"Oh don't you worry, I'm going to take exactly what I want."

Barry swallowed hard as his former neighbor walked up to him, the scent of smoke so strong it burned and made his head swim.

In a swift movement he takes his leather covered hand and grabs Barry's head. Feeling the warm leather of the glove on his head and the overpowered scent wafting through his mind was enough for Barry to react, but rather than running away like he had intended. He found himself dropping to his knees in front of the man.

"There you go mate. Seems like your body wants this to happen before you even know what it is that's going on."

Barry found himself trying to will himself to get up and run but again his body refused his command. Instead he rubbed his face against the man's leather groin lovingly. The smoke was so strong now and he couldn't help but feel an itch form in his mind about taking a good long drag on something.

"You must have really hated your old life for it to be so easily taken away. I'm feeling generous so I'll give you exactly what you want."

He unzips his leather pants and exposes his massive cock in front of Barry who can't even offer a moment of resistance before diving on the cock. Sucking it with an expertise he didn't know he had. The smokey scent suddenly becoming an irresistable aroma as he sucked the man. Each deep drag on the man's cock forcing more and more of the punk's essense into him, clouding up his mind and losing everything he was in the fog.

Soon the apartment would have another degenerate leather clad punk roaming the halls looking for trouble and Barry wouldn't have it any other way.

[masculinetfstories-deactivated2]

Wanna Become a Leather Daddy?

Danny had just finished jacking off to his favourite leather porn star, releasing his weak jizz into a tissue.

He was about to close the porn tab when a popup appeared,

"Hey Danny! Wanna Become a Leather Daddy? Click This Link and find out!"

He was baffled at how some random popup know his name? And what did it mean by "Become A Leather Daddy" ? He was still using Incognito for gods sake! But, post nut clarity hadn't hit in yet, and he was still in the horny mindset, so against his better judgement, he clicked it.

It took him to a website, but he didn't get to see it as suddenly bright flashes of color covered the screen, it should've given him a seizure by how fast they flashing across the screen but instead he stared at the screen as the pretty colors went off and danced in his eyes. Then suddenly, his computer shut itself off. He tried to reboot it but to no avail. Fuck, he must've gotten some sort of virus, damnit, how could he be such an idiot he thought, now he was out of laptop that he needed for school, god fucking damnit.

His head felt awfully tired and fuzzy after that, so he decided to take a nap, as he suddenly had a hard time thinking after all that. He curled up into his sheets and drifted off.

It was nighttime when he woke up, he reached to grab his phone but paused as he noticed his arm. His normally flabby arm was now muscular, he ran to a nearby mirror in shock, oh my god…

He was beautiful, hot and sexy. The peak of masculinity. He didn't know how this happened but he didn't care one bit as he admired his gorgeous naked form. His hair was darker than usual, and he now sported stubble which only added to his sexiness.

Suddenly he heard a knock at the door, who could be knocking at this hour?

It was just a package, no info on it, just a plain package on his doorstep, inside was some tight leather pants, big leather boots, a leather hat, a couple of cigars, a lighter and a huge bottle of lube. His straight roommate certainly wasn't into leather stuff like him, and neither smoked. Wrong address, maybe?

Returning to the mirror, he noticed he now sported a beard unlike the small patch of stubble from a few minutes ago. and his hair was now a nice dark brown. He also felt older. Weird...

He got a strong urge to try on the leather gear, damn he was hot- no, sexy. Suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his butthole, he felt it tighten, a hole tight enough that a penis could still fit in but not without some lube, he tried to get the leather off but to avail, it was stuck! He turned around to have his butt face the mirror, to his shock his ass was actually inflating! Within seconds his flat ass had turned into two perfect, plump, round jiggling globes of pure muscle and fat, he was amazed.

He gave his new globes a nice hard SMACK, causing them to jiggle even through the skin tight leather pants.

Then, he felt a hard snap in his now erect penis, it hurt. But then there was another snap, and then another, soon the painful snaps were constant, rapid fire almost as he felt his cock stretch and grow and his balls inflate to absurd degrees, it was so painful but he loved the thought and sight of his cock getting bigger.

Finally his meat stopped stretching, it was now so big he could see it every intricate detail, he was now packing a thick, 12 inch dick, with testicles the size of tennis balls.

Marvelous, he got a good look at himself again, he was definently older now, with some wrinkles and slightly smaller hairline,

But he couldnt give a damn as he now felt his pecs start to inflate as well, it hurt like his dick growing, snap after snap until his meaty man tits could now be big enough, god damnit he wanted someone to titty fuck his boobies so badly.

He then felt his whole body tickle, it made him giggle which also confirmed he was now older as his voice was alot deeper, he had to be in his mid 30s by now. The tickling got more intense, as hairs started to sprout all throughout his body, armpits, crotch, chest, pecs, butt, chin, everywhere but his head, apparently.

unfortunately, the transformation seemed to stop for now, he was dissappointed but was obsessed with his new body, he was like a full on leather daddy now- wait, he was always was! He's been doing leather shit since he was in young back in the good ol' 80s.

Ah, the good old days...

...Despite all this pleasure he still hadn't climaxed throughout all of it, that's when he got an urge to go get his dildo- but wait, he never owned a dildo, all he had was a nice and tight fleshjack that he kept in his closet. He grabbed the cigar and the lighter as well as the lube and went to go retrieved his prized sex toy. The fleshjack was modeled after his own asshole, tight and fleshy, he always needed a shitload of lube or else it wouldn't fit. He was finally able to take off that tight leather gear, letting his juicy meaty globes and fat hairy man tits jiggle without the restraints of his tight clothes. He soon lit up the cigar stuck it in his mouth, lubed up and inserted his meaty cock into the fleshjack and fucked it with all his might.

As he did, his head felt fuzzy again, he had weird thoughts about some young twink named Danny? No, he was Don, the middle age leather daddy who's name striked fear into the hearts of every gay man in the area. He'd tear apart every tight hole with his meaty cock, and let any daring souls cum up if juicy fat globes if they had the courage. He had several nicknames, Hole Destroyer, Leather God, all related to his only purpose in life, sex.

He soon felt a tingling sensation in his balls, he felt the weak semen from his old life be destroyed by the invading alpha sperm, thick and potent, a type of cum only a man like him could produce.

He came, shooting that very load into the fleshjack, as he moaned as loud as he could, he let his dick sit there soaking in his own thick potent jizz for a minute before releasing his cock from the fleshy confines of his asshole. He panted and panted.

"Fuck! I'm late!" He gasped as he checked the time, he supposed to be at the gay club by now! He quickly put his leather clothes back on, got a look at his sexy self one last time before he headed out for another night of sex work...

Note: Haha, if you can't tell, I really like Butt Growth Stories, specifically ones where the man retains their masculinity.

I'm not really a fan of twink tfs or twinks in general, why can't big beefy masculine tops have big butts too, this stereotype of masc tops with unmemorable butts needs to end.

[sergeant-adams-deactivated20240]

The Slickest Greaser

A sequel to one of my shorter stories here on this blog, as prompted by the marvelous @sjw-publishings. I’m not dead I promise, just way way way too busy.

Adam honestly didn’t know how he had ended up at the retro-styled mechanic. Well, he partly knew how. When his Volvo had originally started making weird noises, he had brushed it off as a rock in his system or some chunk of pavement lodged inside his interior. A week later, he found himself struggling to brake on the interstate. But it was only a month after the first incident when he brought the car in. Even Adam had his limits, and those were discovered when his entire dashboard lit up with blinking red lights.

Now Adam sat quietly in the mechanics shop, waiting to get a diagnosis on the 2005 vehicle. It wasn’t too old, but it was due for some maintenance. At least that’s what his boyfriend had said. He’d also quipped that Adam needed a treatment too; his pleasant stature at just under 6 feet not hiding the little extra weight he’d gained around the stomach. His bouncy red hair however made him fit into any Irish bar, a trait his boyfriend found perfect to utilize to get free drinks.

Fiddling with his fingers in his hoodie, Adam investigated the rest of the shop with his eyes. When he’d been searching for a shop online, he had just chosen this one due to its close proximity to his work. He hadn’t expected it to appear so…vintage. In fact, the place looked as if it had come straight out of the 1950’s, no age or weathering even apparent. Old-fashioned advertisements, outdated equipment, and even the prices were insanely cheap as if untouched by decades of inflation. The mechanics themselves were dressed up too, wearing outfits and hairstyles reminiscent of a greasier time. The vast majority of them were smoking freely inside the open building too.

The mechanic who had met with Adam earlier had stated that the inspection wouldn’t last more than an hour and had kindly invited him to take a seat in the shop. The magazines available displayed actors who had died out years ago, and the television set in the corner seemed to be running some old black-and-white gameshow. 

“Welcome back to The Slickest Greaser!” the announcer shouted. Although Adam had his phone accessible and fully-charged, he was intrigued by the show. A line of men slowly filled the screen, with the announcer approaching each one separately. Unknowingly, Adam began to paw at himself, creating a noticeable boner in his khakis.

“Alright, Doug, what do you think defines the ‘Slickest Greaser’?”

The man known as Doug stepped forward. He was fairly bulky looking, with a stacked, more muscular build and stoic facial features. He wasn’t particularly attractive–and not Adam’s type– but Adam’s boner raged on.

“Well,” Doug began in a voice as sturdy as his body. “he’s gotta have muscles dat can impress, abit of uh showoff ya know? If he’s gonna make the scene then he can’t be lookin’ like a wet rag.”

Both the announcer and Adam nodded in agreement, with Adam not realizing what he was doing. Jocks and athletes made themselves look menacing with their gigantic muscles, the kind of aura men should naturally emit. Luckily, Adam naturally fit right into this category, maintaining a body that was both strapping and intimidating. With his daily visits to the gym, he had developed an impressive six-pack and bulging arms while also maintaining a decent schedule for work and play. Although he wasn’t really into any sports, his ripped body was very strong.

“Up next we have Johnny.” The announcer made his way to a shorter male who was almost bursting with excitement. He too wasn’t the most attractive male, but he certainly wasn’t unpleasant looking either.

“Johnny,” the announcer smiled, with the smaller man nodding feverishly. “What do you think defines the ‘Slickest Greaser’?”

Johnny’s answer was quick and sharp: “He’s gottuh have dat masculine look of uh cool cat. The body ain’t enough to make him uh 50’s daddio.”

The announcer’s grin grew wider as Adam contemplated the response. It felt right to him. There were way too many different men already in the world, so there had to be some normal, similar-looking males to even out the curve. If a muscular body came off as intimidating, then he needed the face to match with it. This problem however had never occurred to Adam, as he had the stereotypical lantern jaw and protruding brow. For him, the issue of masculine features had never been an issue.

“Rocco,” the announcer began again, moving down the line to a taller, better-dressed male. “What do you think defines the ‘Slickest Greaser’?”

Rocco had the classic pompadour and piercing brown eyes of any male greaser from the period, but his lanky figure and awkward personality made him seem much less appealing. This however was not enough to tame Adam’s hard-on, which had grown slightly from its previous size.

“The ‘Slickest Greaser’,” Rocco started. “has that crazy obsession over dressin’. He’s gotta really get into da groove: leather’s bettuh, uh huh?”

Adam found this answer a little hard to interpret, but true. He didn’t fully understand all the outdated slang, but he knew it to be correct. Adam suddenly recalled his own closet, filled with various outfits of leather and denim. Adam was currently wearing some of his favorite pieces, which included a plain white tee covered by a leather jacket, a pair of dirty jeans, and two hard boots that stomped with every step. 

“Who’s next? Wheezer?”

“Yes?” a man in the middle replied. By the look on his face, you could see he was reviewing his answer for the third or fourth time.

“What do you think defines the ‘Slickest Greaser’?” the announcer asked politely.

“I don’t know if anyone’s said it yet,” Wheezer babbled as if he was mentally reading off of a dictionary. “But the ‘Slickest Greaser’ has ta be uh greaser through-and-through: black-and-white.”

“That’s a good point,” the announcer chuckled, as if he had missed something that was right in front of him. Adam didn’t get the announcer’s mood at first, but it began to make sense after a while. In fact, how had he missed it himself? The Slickest Greaser had to be a greaser, otherwise the entire point of the show wouldn’t make sense. Ace fortunately already had this figured out, his fingers diggin’ in the grease and stickin’ it and slickin’ it’ on his black-haired ‘do.

“Last is Tony.” The announcer swiftly moved back to the front of the line, grabbing the attention of a man of average height. His features were about as plain as the rest, but he was cockier and more confident than anyone else had been.

“What do you think defines the Slickest Greaser?”

“Everyone’s goofed the easy answer,” Tony sneered with a hint of an Italian accent. “He’s gotta swoon them babes! Makin’ out with uh Betty who’s stacked. C’mon boys, you all square or somethin’?”

The announcer laughed at the participant’s intensity. Ace chuckled too, for what the contestant said was right. How had they all missed that? Of course the Slickest Greaser had to be a lady’s man. How else was he expected to ooze testosterone and masculinity? Ace couldn’t believe his own stupidity, not noticing the sudden lack of his boner. 

“That’s all for tonight!” The announcer shouted as the television screen went black, but no one was really watching anymore. Ace was already making his way back to his 1955 hotrod, noticing the mechanic had left for the paperwork. He proudly crouched in front of his baby, lighting a cigarette as he waited.

“Hey there, stud,” a pretty girl approached Ace moments later, papers in hand. “My daddy’s just about wrapped up with your hot rod here. He said it’ll only take a few minutes more.”

“That’s all uh need, cupcake,” Ace revved, changing the topic to what the two really wanted to discuss. “Name’s Ace, cause I’m the best at what I do.”

[lustystallionreturns]

Hey genie. Me and my boyfriend are a mixed couple. We've been going to the gym recently to get some exercise in.

Unfortunately there are some men making fun of us. They'll mock my boyfriend for not having a big enough package and me for having a flat ass, because according to them we don't look like how we should.

I wish these bullies would turn into anti-stereotypical versions of themselves.

Hey Anon

I hear ya. You're in a new relationship which means a new gym.

You're both pretty fit. You've always been a pasty cardio boy, with some core and arm workouts thrown in, and your boyfriend enjoys lifting. You're in your early 20s, and he's just a few years your senior with his grandparent's ethnicity gives him that natural tanned skin.

All is going well, until you get into the locker room that first week and encounter the personal criticism of these guys. Your package is average but you're a shower, so you didn't draw the critique of your bf. He's not a shower he's a grower. I mean, if one of these guys were to grab the base of his dick and pull him into a kiss, they'd see the beauty that you know so well. I mean he's a red-blooded male, after all, however, committed or monogamous you are.

You've shared your wish with me on social media, so let's get you in the locker room with them right now.

"What the fuck! How'd we end up here guys. The pizza had just arrived" The cocky dude in the middle expressed.

Go on Anon, speak out your wish in the presence of these bellends.

"I wish these bullies would turn into anti-stereotypical versions of themselves."

"The fuck?!" said the sweaty one "Is the fag making a wish about us?"

"Yeah bro, flat ass is always thinking about us. But who's the purple dude?"

Man, let's play with alternate possibilities shall well. I mean, your wish is wonderful anyway. If I were a good genie it gives me so many options like chubbing each of these guys up, giving them a couple of years of hard gym grind to work back to where they were. Not to mention the 2 years without pussy.

I love watching the boyfriends eyes light up as the stud's bodies flab. Cocky gets shorter as his definition is lost and his chin fattens with extra flab.

The look on the bloating bullies was also priceless.

"No, No... NO!!!" They bellowed as they watched their desirable muscles convert to fat followed.

Or I could grow them in age, fur and orientation.

The fat sweaty guy found his flab bulking with muscle under his fat as his belly became a roid gut. He headed to bro who's aged and was furry and grabbed his hand affectionately. Cocky found his knees buckle as the desire to worship bro became insatiable.

But I think you want more of a punishment for messing up your gym time and breaking your mojo. This would leave them sex-obsessed and happy, and you wanted justice right?

Let me return you to your original forms and freeze the three of you.

Zip

A moment of Deja Vu as you state loud and clearly

"I wish these bullies would turn into gay anti-toxic alternate stereotypical versions of themselves."

Your wish is my command.

Let's start with cocky.

First, his cock has to shrink. That's definite. Shrink his manhood, shrink his ego.

I watched him squirm at hearing this.

And of course he should be a smaller stereotypical sassy pride twink, complete with crop top and enlarged lashes.

The boy's in the room couldn't get over what they were witnessing, as the once stud shrunk down, his muscles dissolving as his eyelashes extended with fake extensions, his hair thickened a little and his brain rerouted. His butt hadn't shrunk at all and now protruded invitingly.

What do you think of cocky now boys?

I asked the lockerroom of bullies and bullied.

"Man, this is amazing!" You said, and we witnessed the scared eyes of the two frozen yet unchanged hunks, and the excited fairy.

Now for the bro.

I liked seeing him fuzzy and older. Let's Dad him up, but only adding 10 years to his age. Mmmmn. See that youth roll back as his light fur becomes a thick pelt. He's still got a great body, but he now enjoys the attention of young twinks like cocky.

Let's unfreeze cocky and Daddy.

Daddy relished the movements of cocky's soft young hands caressing and petting his well-muscled Dad bod.

Yet again, all the boys are amazed at what is going on. Cocky's crotch is tenting at his new Daddy, Sweaty is sweating more awaiting his turn, and Daddy is trying to get over his new fur.

I know, you can't believe your eyes. But it's real, it's permanent and it's all because of you. Now for sweaty.

I mean he's been blessed with great genes which need stripping immediatly.

Sweaty's eyes shone with horror at this statement.

No-one will call you naturally attractive any more. I mean, you never worked out so as you grew older your body just got flabby and hairy. You got a Tattoo when you were 27

Sweaty's face, even frozen, seemed to have a look of panic across it as the words made him age passed his 23 year old self to his mid 30s,

and your nipples pierced when you reached your kinky streak at 43.

His body ageing to a man in his mid 40's.

I particularly like your balding head man. And of course, you're a complete slut.

These words formed in his mind, as his hair became thinner on top and his desire to be fondled, toyed with and fucked took over his thinking.

Always letting the jocks play with you. You find it hard not to touch your dick these days as you look at all the young college jocks working out.

You objectify yourself on the internet to. Lads pay you to humiliate yourself, and it turns your pudgy 4.5 incher on. Not that it grows any longer.

All 3 of you are now constantly horny gay stereotypes that your previous selves would have despised. Deep down you know this isn't who you were going to be, but you know that you deserve this punishment, and after a year of living this way will realise it's really no punishment at all, as you see the gift I have given you.

You've had quite the transformation guys, and all because you bullied these guys.

But I know you thought they could be better. A bigger package for our tanned friend here, and a sexy ass for his pasty boyfriend.

Guys, over to you. What would you wish for them...

---

Go on, add in reply what the three transformed gay boys would wish for this new gym couple

[lustystallionreturns]

@dopplecolours on behalf of the bullies "I wish they would be a couple of massive doms that can manhandle us."

Zip

"I wish they would be a couple of massive fleshy leather daddy doms that can manhandle us."

You and your boyfriend look round deeply concerned at this new wish. But there's no going back now. You watch your boyfriend age and bulk before you as his existing muscle doubles and triples in size as his clothes diminish to tightly clad leather straps with jock strap. His beard now grey and his head now bald he looks at you knowingly as he grabs at his now massive crotch.

He takes great enjoyment in watching your own lean body thicken and grow. bulging, pulsating, muscle packing on. You feel a thick beard establishing on your clean-shaven chin and then a bubbling as your ass swells to a beautiful fuckable butt. You feel stronger and a new alpha persona take hold of you as you look at your three fuckboys. You know exactly what position you want them in, and they'll willingly let you punish them for the naughty boys they know they are.

[derekwriteskink]

You looked at your friend Henry with lust in your eyes. You have been head over heels for him for years, but he never showed any interest in being more than friends. You initially convinced yourself that you were ok with that being all you were to him. But when he started ditching you to hang out with his new boyfriend, you started to drift apart. It had been weeks since you and Henry last saw each other, so when Henry contacted you and asked you if you wanted to hang out. You said yes. Henry and you then agreed that he would come to your place the next day. The next morning you fixed your hair meticulously and made sure that your home was spotless. After a few painful hours of waiting, you heard the door bell ring. You excitedly ran to the door and opened it, but your excitement for the night turned to Dread when you saw Henry’s boyfriend Sam. You stood there in silence waiting for an explanation. “I know that you thought it would just be us tonight, but Sam really wanted to come.” Said Henry. “Fucking typical Sam” you thought to yourself, as you contemplated closing the door. But you reluctantly let them both in. Henry greeted you with a smile, while Sam looked at you disdainfully.You motioned towards the couch. Sam immediately sat down and dirty leather boots on your couch. You explained to Sam that your couch was brand new and asked him to remove his feet from the coach. Sam then “accidentally” wiped the mucky soles of his boots on your brand new couch. You were about to snap at Sam but Henry did before you. “What the fuck Sam?!? Why do you have to ruin everything?!” Shouted Henry. Sam then faked an apology in the typical “NiCe guy” way. Henry was quick to accept Sam’s apology.

But you weren’t satisfied. “I’m sorry but that’s not enough. If you want to stay in my house you’ll have to leave your boots at the door” you said. Sam refused to remove his boots, but Henry insisted that Sam remove his boots. Sam reluctantly removed his boots and lazily passed them to you. You placed the boots next to the front door and then sat down on the couch. You all sat there awkwardly until Henry suggested that you play truth or dare. “What are you five?” Said Sam. “I think it sounds fun” you said. After a few minutes of not so subtle pressuring. Sam agreed to play. Sam went first and picked you. You chose truth, not wanting to find out what Sam would make you do if you chose dare. “Why are you so obsessed with Henry?” asked Sam. You waited a somewhat awkward amount of time before responding. “He’s the only guy in my life that’s always been there for me” you said. “Boring” said Sam. It was then your turn. You picked Henry. Henry picked truth. “What initially attracted you to Sam?” You asked. “Well I’ve always been into leather, so his outfit and attitude are what initially made me interested.” Said Henry. “You guys are so boring, what’s the point of playing truth and dare, if you don’t do any dares” said Sam. “Alright then, truth or dare” said Henry. Sam picked dare. “I dare you to swap clothes with (reader) “ said Henry. “That’s kind of weird, Henry I hardly know the guy” said Sam. “Oh come on Sam, it’s only going to be for a half hour” said Henry. “Half an HOUR dressed like THAT” said Sam. “You’re the one that wanted to do a dare, it’s not a big deal Sam” said Henry. After a bit of arguing Sam says yes to the dare. You and Sam start to strip. Sam hands you his leather jacket, leather gloves, black t-shirt and his blue jeans, while you give him your regular outfit. You put on his clothes. They’re a tight fit and they’re a little small on you, but you notice that Henry is looking at you a little more passionately as usual as you grab Sam knee high leather boots and put them on. It’s a bit of a squeeze, but luckily manageable. Henry starts to complement you, you smile as Henry sits right next to you on the couch. You’re pleased that Henry is showing interest in you but are shocked at the lack of an interruption by Sam. You turn your head and jump at the sight of another you. Sam is also seemingly shocked as he sees himself looking back at him. You both turn to Henry. Henry doesn’t seem to be surprised by your reactions. “WTF is going on?!?” Shouted Sam. “You’re getting your punishment” said Henry. “I…I don’t understand” said Sam. “You have been cheating on me on months, I saw your messages. You never treated me with the respect that I deserved, so I gave your life to someone that deserves it.” Said Henry as he wrapped his arm around you. Sam stood there in shock, his jaw practically scrapping the floor. “I don’t understand how is this possible?” You asked. “A magician never reveals his tricks” said Henry.

A few weeks later Henry and “Sam” (you) stood in an elevator on your way to your new apartment. Henry pulled out his phone and took a mirror selfie, you looked forward to spending your life with the man of your dreams.

[storyofkink-deactivated20221103]

Sweet boy and australian actor Dacre Montgomery heard a knock at his door, and when he got there he was greeted by a wooden box, something deep inside compelled him to open it, and withdraw one of the cigars inside.

Here he is with his 1st cigar.

Here is his 2nd.

And here he is with his 3rd that finally corrupted him into a filthy fucking cigar pig.

[kink-override]

Fuck reading that last transformation was so hot! It made me want a change for myself.

I’m a short, average size guy. I’ve always been into cigar smoking leathermen and was curious about what it would be like to be like them. So I ordered a small box of cigars from the internet and wonder what’ll happen when I light up them up?

Ordering from online always has its fair share of calculated risks. When that targeted advert came across your screen you didn’t think twice - a deal like that doesn’t come around every day. No-one could punish you for not finding the small print on that badly designed website. Well - maybe someone would.

As soon as the shipment and delivery information arrived at your email you began counting down the days.

After five days of waiting (and you were convinced you ordered next day delivery) you received a notification from the company. The email read that they would be upgrading your order from a bundle to 'Leather Experience' box, AND that you would have it delivered by courier within 48 hours — as long as you consented. You thought it sounded like an offer too good to refuse - and the least that they could do - and clicked “yes” immediately.

Saturday rolled around and before the middle of the afternoon you heard the ring at your doorbell. “Finally!” You thought, throwing on a jumper around your waist to (hopefully) hide the growing tent of excitement in your crotch. You paid no attention to the courier, who stood in the doorway wearing an all-black uniform and fitted cap. He haded the parcel over and passed you a paper to sign away, and he was gone before you even looked at his face.

Rushing back inside you tore off the cardboard and wasted no time on reading any of the leaflets. Overcome with desire you opened the sleek wooden box to see ten immaculate cigars lined up - though five wrapped with a red band and the other black. "Must be that Leather theming" you shrugged to yourself, before taking a black one and lighting it up.

Pressed to your lips you immediately realised the quality was unlike anything you had smoked before. You dabbled in a bundle here, a one-off there — but this was something else. "Fuck" you thought, as the thick smoke filled up your lungs "I could get used to this...."

Thats when things started to change. Your chest puffing out, your shoulders widening, thighs now bulging and toughening as your feet spread and stretch within your socks. This wasn’t your ordinary cigar… this, this was a full experience and you were on one hell of a ride.

Through the thick smoke, you looked down and noticed you were no longer wearing your regular Saturday uniform of loose grey sweats but were now clad head to toe in tight, sexy leather. Hands, now wearing black gloves, reached down into your crotch to feel the pouch of a leather jockstrap hugging your thick manhood, and length you'd only jacked off to when watching porn. You stood up to check yourself in the mirror, checking out your new body in the mirror you saw your jawline, now chiseled and highlighted with stubble; your previously average frame now toned and strong; your hight, now packing 6" easily and thats before you factor in the those sexy boots on your feet.

"Damn right I could get used to this" you think to yourself, as you sat back down in your chair to get another feel of your new, superior, manhood. As new thoughts began running through your head of what to do next, even your mind had become augmented in the process.

As if on queue, you hear a knock at the door and the handle start to open. Emerging from behind the door is the familiar face of the courier. The previous delivery uniform now shed to a short sleeved leather shirt, slicked hair and leather chaps. You smiled like greeting an old friend as he begins to laugh as he sees the cigar in your hand: "That didn't take long at all, did it?" you shake your head and grin. You were one of him now, just how you’d always wanted.

"Ready for that full experience we offered you to properly start?"

Within the hour you and your new partner were dominating slaves the way you'd only dreamed of before. With the guidance of your new mentor and your newfound personality, all were falling prey with a puff of your cigar smoke and a collar on their neck. You were introduced to countless men just like yourself in the back rooms of the leather bars, but your guide made sure you never stoped long enough to make conversation.

That's when you stated to wonder.. what happens when you've smoked your last black cigar? "Fuck.... what else does he have in store for me?"

____

Ready to transform? Be careful what you wish for. Send a message to this blog: click here

[chrispyrecaptions]

Oh hey there big guy? Having trouble breathing? Don't worry it's to be expected. These here are special cigs, the kind thame gives you a hazy mind. Don't worry you'll get used to it soon. Don't fight it, just relax. Feel smoke fill your lungs, it's tendrils crawling across your mind, changing you, growing you. Gonna make you apex. Gonna make you alpha. Gonna put you up in gear and make you one of us. Just gotta give in first. Cough out all the bits and pieces of your old life. Thats it. Breathe in deep. It feels so good. Man, we're gonna have a lot of fun with you.

[derekwriteskink]

You wake up in complete darkness.You stumble around trying to find the light switch. “How unusual” you think to yourself. You would normally know your way around your room but don’t seem to remember anything about it’s layout. After a few moments of confusion you find the light switch. You press it and the room immediately lights up. You panic as you see that the door and landing room look nothing like how you remember them. You turn around and examine the bedroom. There’s a large double bed with white sheets. It’s most certainly not yours, puzzled you turn around and see black wallpaper and a black tv. You see a brown closet. You open it curiously. The closet is filled with leather clothes. You know that you should leave but your curiosity gets the best of you as you feel that you should try on the clothes. You remove all your clothing and then grab a leather shirt from the closet. You start to button it up,it’s a little big but you manage to button it up to the top. You then grab a pair of leather pants and put them on.They’re a bit big on your frame but a nearby belt keeps them in place.You follow up with a leather suit jacket and a leather tie. You finish the look with a pair of black Leather engineer boots. You immediately feel dizzy and collapse. While asleep your body grows and the leather becomes tight. When you awaken your old clothes are gone and you’re left with a mirror. You look at yourself and find that you’re someone else.