Male Body Swap Stories

Body swap stories I’ve written or that I like. Also just pics of attractive guys. I don’t own any of the pictures. Feel free to inbox me for questions and requests

[abstractvanity32]

Dockside Bulk

Ava sat on the edge of the wooden dock, the sun beating down on her bare shoulders as the lake lapped quietly below. The bodybuilding competition had wrapped up earlier that afternoon, and she had placed high in her division, but the win felt flat. All the strict prep, the posing, the pressure to stay small and tight had left her tired. Her petite frame still wore the tiny competition bikini, the fabric sticking to her skin from the heat. She kicked her feet in the cool water, watching the ripples spread out. “All that work and I still feel like I’m pretending,” she said to the empty air.

A strange warmth rose from the water and wrapped around her legs. Her calves thickened first, rounding out heavy and solid as dark hairs pushed through the skin in thick patches. The growth climbed upward, her thighs swelling with dense muscle that made the bikini bottoms ride high and tight. Height followed in steady waves, her spine lengthening with dull cracks until she stood over six feet tall, the dock planks feeling narrower under her wider stance.

The warmth moved into her torso next. Her stomach tightened and rounded at the same time, abs carving deep beneath a solid layer of bulk that pushed forward into a firm gut. Coarse dark hairs erupted across the new surface, spreading thick from her navel upward. Her chest heaved as the small breasts flattened and pushed outward into heavy, rounded pectorals, the skin stretching as thick hair covered the slabs in a full mat. The bikini top snapped at the straps and fell away.

Ava stood up, breath catching as her arms swelled fast. Biceps peaked thick and veined while triceps filled out heavy beneath. Hands grew wider and rougher, fingers turning blunt and strong. Her back flared wide with thick lats and powerful traps. The sun felt hotter on the new bronze skin.

Between her thighs, a deep pressure built low and solid. Everything inside shifted with a warm, heavy fullness, skin stretching tight over a thick length that pushed outward against her leg while a full sac settled low and warm beneath it. The new cock thickened in a slow pulse, resting heavy as the sensation settled.

Her face changed last, jaw widening under skin that roughened slightly, a thick dark mustache pushing out above her lip while a short beard filled in across her chin and cheeks. Nose broadened, eyes deepening to a warm brown under thicker brows. Light brown hair shortened into short, dark waves cropped close to her head.

The tiny bikini reformed into bright red swim trunks that hugged the thick thighs and muscular ass. A white bucket hat appeared on her head and dark sunglasses materialized over her eyes. The dock and lake stayed the same, but everything else felt different, more solid, more his.

Flashes came in slow waves: strict meal prep twisting into easy burgers by the water, constant posing practice inverting into relaxed flexes for the mirror, the pressure to stay small softening into simple pride in the bulk. “I worked so hard to look right,” she tried to say, but the words came out low and easy. “Body feels good. Vacation feels better.”

Marcus stood on the wooden dock, hands on his hips, the red trunks riding low on his powerful frame. The thick dark hair across his chest and stomach caught the sun, the heavy pecs and solid gut proud and unapologetic. He flexed one arm slowly, watching the muscle shift under the skin, a small smile tugging at his thick mustache. The competition was over, the stage lights long gone, and this felt right. The lake, the sun, the body he had built and now got to enjoy without rules.

But as the afternoon stretched on and the last of the other guests drifted away, Marcus stayed on the dock, the easy pride sitting on the surface while something quieter settled underneath. The body felt solid and right, the vacation simple and good, but the connections stayed shallow. No one really knew the girl who had stepped onto that stage hours earlier, and no one would ever ask. He adjusted the bucket hat, the red trunks clinging to his thighs, and watched the water lap at the wood. A man who had everything he thought he wanted, standing alone on the dock with only the sun and the silence for company.

[misctf]

The Game Show

You can think of a few reasons why you found yourself in the audience that night. Well, really one. When you heard "Are You Smarter Than A Himbo" was putting on a show in your neighborhood, you couldn't resist. Sure, it was kind of stupid. You'd seen the clips online. They'd bring some braindead jock up on stage to flex, laugh, crack jokes, and answer basic trivia wrong. The poor idiot would laugh along as the audience laughed at him. You'd always figured the dunce was too dumb to realize they were laughing at him. But fuck, those guys were hot. So if anything, you'd get to ogle at some hot guy flexing all night and maybe get a few laughs out of it too.

"Do you think Zak's pecs are real?"

"Jason is like totally the hottest."

"I think Ryan isn't as dumb as he lets on."

"Did you know Mike is single? I can't…"

You roll your eyes at the fanfare all around you. These people were seriously into it. And then it starts.

"Welcome everyone!" You watch as a lanky man struts on stage with his hair slicked back and a wide grin on his face, "Are you ready!?" The crowd- mostly women and a few guys cheered in response, "I said: are you ready!?" You roll your eyes as the host worked the crowd, "Alright, alright… welcome." The host smiles wider, "Put your hands together for our main man!"

The host gestures toward the side of the stage and Zak strolls out with a slow, confident walk, his arms flexed as if expecting applause. He’s got thick curls falling over his forehead, and his chest is packed with muscle, tight under his white tank top. The crowd goes wild as he steps onto the platform.

“Y’all ready?” Zak shouts, raising both arms above his head. “Let’s go!” He pulls off his shirt in one smooth motion, and your eyes widen as you take in his massive pecs and perfect abs. The crowd similarly goes wild. Zak grins, flashing a perfect set of teeth, "I'm so fuckin' pumped to be here tonight! I fuckin' love you guys!"

"But Zak, I think you have something to say to everyone. Right?" The host interjects, patting the massive jock on the back.

"Yo dude yeah, for real." Zak nods, "Like, this is gonna be my last show, ya know? With the whole modeling thing blowin' up and all." The audience groans, "I know, it sucks majorly, trust me!" Zak frowns, "But like, you'll get to see plenty more of me. Trust me brahs." He winks and the crowd cheers.

The host claps, "That’s what I like to hear! Alright, let’s get started!"

You lean forward in your seat as the first audience member is brought up. It only takes a few questions for her to utterly humiliate Zak, who just laughs and flexes like the dumb himbo that he is. As the contestant returns to her seat, the host's eyes scan the crowd, zeroing in on you.

"What about you there in the blue shirt? He looks smart, right Zak? Let's get you up here!"

Initially you're shocked. You? The host gestures for you to make your way up to the stage. You can feel your heart pounding as you climb the stairs, palms feeling a little sweaty. The bright lights, all eyes on you. And as you step onto the stage, you get an up close look of Zak. His biceps bulge impressively, glistening with a light sheen of sweat. But god he smells like a wet gym sock.

"Sup bro, nice to meetcha!" Zak grins and throws a muscular arm around you, "Dude, you ready for this?"

"Aw do I sense a budding bromance?" The host grins and the crowd cheers. After settling them down, he turns to you. "You know how this works by now. Do you think you're smarter than a himbo?"

"Yeah, I think I am." You reply.

"Heh we'll see about that, bro!" Zak guffaws, "I was just goin' easy on that last chick."

"The confidence!" The host laughs, "Let's put it to the test. Your first question: Which is the only sea without any coastlines?"

You ponder for a moment. A sea without a coastline? That's... god what was that? You feel your cheeks flushing red, as you realize you don't know the answer to that. But if you don't know the answer, Zak would definitely not know either. Speaking of Zak, he's bouncing his pecs like the oversized gym bro he is.

"Is it the Caspian Sea?" You shrug, eyes still locked on his massive pecs. Of course the host shakes his head with exaggerated sadness.

"Ah, seems Mr. Smartypants here was a bit too distracted admiring the view to ace that question!" He winks at the audience, while Zak flexes.

"No shame in that, brah!"

You feel your face flush red with embarrassment as the laughter from the audience washes over you. Great, now they all think you're just another hormone-addled fool who can't string two thoughts together because of a pretty face.

"Alright Zak, a question for you now buddy!" You figure Zak is about to bomb this question anyway- round will end in a tie and you can walk away with some dignity, "What color are bananas?"

Zak scratches his head, "Dude… tricky." He chuckles, low and dumb, "So, I want to say yellow, but also green when they're not ripe. Oh but brown too if they go for too long!"

"Fantastic answer Zak! Well thought out!" The host grins as the crowd cheers, "Uh oh, looks like Zak has pulled ahead!"

The fuck kind of question was that? You look at the host and then Zak, who is doing a victory dance. The color of bananas? Of course Zak would know that- he's a fucking ape. You smirk at your own joke.

"Okay okay, let's try another one! Mr. Smartypants, are you ready to redeem yourself?" You're ready, more than ready. You're not..., "What pigments are responsible for the red color of leaves?"

Your mouth opens, but no words come out. You don't have an answer for that. Maybe you did know it, but between the flexing stud and the stage fright, you couldn't find the information.

"Chlorophyll."

"What a shame! That is not correct." He smiles at the audience, "It seems Zak may have a chance to widen his lead! Hey big guy, what day of the month is Christmas celebrated on?" It takes Zak maybe a minute or two to answer that one correctly, "Look at that folks, Zak is now up by two!" He turns to you with a grin, "Seems our guest is not much of a smartypants after all!"

Again, your face flush reds, "No worries, little dude." Zak ruffles your hair, "I uh, I got some smarts, ya know." He looks out towards the audience, "Last show brahs but first win!"

The crowd cheers and it dawns on you that you might be the first person to actually lose this stupid game. Frustration bubbles up inside you as the host and crowd continue to mock you. You're better than this, smarter than being made a fool of. Screw it, you're going to show them all up.

"I could answer every single one of those easy-ass questions he's getting," you mutter under your breath, but the mic picks it up anyway. The host's eyes light up.

"Oh ho, is that so?" He raises an eyebrow, a smirk gracing his features. "Well then, why don't you prove it, hot shot? Let's see if you can handle something a little more…your speed. Here we go bud - how does the body cool down during intense exercise like a heavy workout session?"

You chuckle. Really? This was the question? You clear your voice, "Sweating. That's how it keeps from overheating."

"Correct!"

"Woah bro, nice one!"

Yeah... that was a nice one. Finally got a question right... finally... You wince as a warmth fills your upper arms. At first it's just a gentle tingling, a warm buzzing beneath your skin. But quickly it builds to a throbbing, insistent pressure.

"What the…?"

The sensation intensifies, an intensifying heat pulsing through your upper arms. Your skin prickles and tightens as your biceps and triceps stretch against the sleeve of your shirt. It feels like the most intense pump after a grueling workout, but magnified tenfold. Your arms throbbing, aching. You feel aware of just how much more space they're taking up. And the twitching- it's incessant. Unconsciously, your arms start to rise, muscles tensing, flexing…

"Whoa…" you mutter, marveling at the sheer size and density of your upper arms, "How…?"

The host clears his throat pointedly, breaking you out of your awestruck reverie. "Ahem, moving on! Thanks for that… demonstration." He shoots you a knowing wink, a sly grin playing at the corners of his mouth. "Let's see if we can't challenge that big ol' brain of yours with another question, shall we? What does the acronym SBD stand for in powerlifting?"

"Oh brah, way too easy." Zak chides, crossing his massive arms over his muscular chest, "Even I know that one."

But your head is swimming. The powerful feeling in your arms send pleasurable waves of warmth through your body. But your mind. You're reviewing the question. Thinking it through. SBD? In powerlifting?

"SBD... SBD..." You rub your chin, unconsciously flexing your now massive bicep, "Huh... like... That's uh..."

You look over at Zak and he's making some kind of motion. A goofy grin on his face as he squats. Squats. Squats!

"Bro!" You grin, "Squats, dude! Yeah, that's what the S stands for." You grin, but the host shakes his head, "C'mon what?" You pout.

"You're still forgetting the rest." The host smiles, "And the timer is counting down."

You shuffle anxiously on your feet. You know this, right? But why would you? You're not into powerlifting. But like, it should be easy. If S stands for squats then like, wouldn't B and D also be something to do with working out? Yeah? Totally, that makes sense. But like, what else is there? What other... huh... shirt is getting kinda tight too. And fuck, you can't help but notice how warm your chest feels. Nice and warm, pressing more and more against the fabric of your shirt. Stretching it out against your big, meaty...

"Bench press, brah! B stands for bench press!" You say with a grin as your shirt starts to tear away, revealing a set of massive pecs and a chiseled torso, "Huh where'd my shirt go?" The audience cheers and you grin, staring down as you bounce your pecs.

"Excellent job, but unfortunately, you didn't finish. You missed D, you big dunce."

The host laughs, and you laugh along with him and the audience. Big dunce. Yeah that's... that's you? You pause for a second and start to feel that same embarrassment from earlier. They're laughing... not with you, but...

"Dude, can't win em all!" Zak slaps you on your increasingly wider back and you turn to him- now at eye-level, "But like, brah, you've got this next one!"

"Y-y-you th-think so.... brah?" Your tongue feels heavy, the words feel sluggish. You notice your voice sounds deeper to your ears, "I..."

"You have to focus there, smartypants!" The host interrupts, "Two more questions. Are you ready?" You nod slowly, "In a deadlift, how high are you supposed to lift the barbell before lowering it?"

"Deadlift..." Your eyes light up suddenly, "Wait, bro! The D! That's what D stands for, brah!" You say excitedly.

The whole audience laughs, as does the host. You look at him, feeling a strange sense of confusion bubbling up. Why were they laughing? What was so funny?

"Good job there, but that was the last question. We've moved on, big guy."

"Oh..." You chuckle, a grin forming on your lips as you let out a deep, dumb laugh, "Huhuhuh that was pretty stupid of me." The audience and the host laugh even louder, and you find yourself joining in, "Alright, gotta lock in, gotta... brah what was the question?"

"Dead lifts..."

"Oh fuck yeah! I fuckin' love deadlifts."

The host grins, "Yes, exactly! So tell us, when doing a deadlift, how high do you lift the barbell before lowering it?"

"Yeah... uh..." You bite your lip, thinking hard. Your fingers drum against your swollen bicep as you try to concentrate and with a sigh, lift your hands behind your head, "Oh nice..."

Your eyes lock on to your bulging bis and tris and you're momentarily distracted. But the sharp tang of your own musk drifts up from your armpits, momentarily derailing your train of thought. Fuck, you smell good. Really fucking good. But since when did you...?

"Brah, c'mon you got this." Zak says, watching you closely.

You shake your head and run a hand through your perfectly gelled, styled hair, before pausing- fuck your aesthetic is probably cooked. You awkwardly pat at your hair.

"Worry about your hair later, you've got a question to answer." The host says.

"Fuck, sorry..." You let out an awkward chuckle, "Just gotta..."

Your body moves instinctively into the proper deadlift position—back straight, knees slightly bent, hips pushed back—as if you've done this 1000s of times before. As you demonstrate the form flawlessly, a new awareness floods your lower body. Your glutes feel… alive. Heavy. Round. Perfect. You grin as you squeeze them unconsciously, feeling the dense muscle fibers contract.

"The answer is hips, bro."

"Let's fuckin' go, brah!" Zak cheers and slaps you on the ass, sending a wave of intense pleasure reverberating through your meaty glutes.

As the crowd cheers, your eyes lock on Zak. The pleasure from him slapping your ass still making you shudder. You drink him in, fixated on the prominent bulge straining against his gym shorts.

"Fuck..." You mumble- he's packing serious heat there.

Your mouth waters involuntarily as fantasies flood your mind—Zak pinning you down, those huge hands squeezing your meaty ass while he drives his massive cock deep inside you. The image of you riding his thick cock sends shivers down your growing frame, and you imagine running your tongue over every inch of his sweat-slick skin. You lick your lips and grin at the thought.

When your eyes meet again, Zak doesn't look away. Instead, his smirk widens as he catches you staring, and the few brain cells he has recognize exactly what you’re thinking. He flexes for the audience, but he turns to give you a quick wink, letting you know all that flexing was just for you... because he wants you to know he wants you too. After all, you know there's not way he could resist you either. With your... bulging pecs? Massive arms? Thick glutes?

"Wait..." You mumble. You can feel the rusting gears in your increasingly empty head turn ever so slightly, drool dripping from the corner of your mouth.

Your head was spinning, brain trying to make sense of all of it.

Something’s off, right? Like... this ain’t how it used to be. You know that. You weren’t… this. But then... what were you then, dude? Cause, like, look at you. Seriously... just look. You’re absolutely shredded. I mean, c’mon, those arms? That chest? You don’t just wake up lookin’ this jacked without bein’… well, this guy. So how could you not be you if you straight-up look like you? Right?

A dumb chuckle escapes your lips as all that thinking overwhelms and shuts down whatever last remaining brain cells you have.

The host snaps his fingers in front of your face, breaking you out of your haze. "Earth to bro, we still got one question."

"Huh? Wha-" You blink slowly, your expression vacant and slack. Drool slips down your chin as you stare blankly ahead.

"Are you smarter than a himbo?" The host grins.

"Nawww, bro, 'course not!" You reply with a big, dumb grin spreading across your face, "Can't be smarter than a himbo cuz… I AM the fuckin' himbo, bro!"

The host laughs, shaking his head, "Well folks, I guess that settles it! Looks like we've got ourselves a new resident himbo to take Zak's place. Give it up for… COLT!"

The audience erupts into cheers and applause as you beam proudly, basking in the spotlight. You feel Zak sling a muscular arm around your broad shoulders, squeezing you close.

"Dude, so fuckin' glad you're joinin' the fam, bro!" Zak enthuses, his hand drifting lower to grope your ass possessively, "Trust me bro, you're gonna love it."

Zak's strong grip on your juicy ass makes you shudder and you can tell by that grin that he's thinking exactly what you're thinking.

The host clears his throat loudly, snapping you out of your lustful stupor. "Don't forget to wave to the crowd, champ!" He gestures encouragingly towards the audience.

With a dopey grin, you raise a hand in greeting, relishing the adoration pouring in from all sides.

"Thanks y'all, this is gonna be fuckin' sick!" You call out enthusiastically, grinning like an idiot.

And as Zak digs his fingers into your massive ass, you lick your lips hungrily. The only thought in your empty head was that once this show was over, you'd be giving him a private encore performance that neither of you would forget…

[catton346]

Shower Surprise

The reality hit you like a car, fast and quick. Everything started to make sense, you knew exactly what was happening but it was too late to do anything about it.

You had always wondered what your boyfriend saw in you, all his exes were hairy men with big beards, thick pelts, and receding hairlines. They were stronger, tougher, more masculine than you. You were like your boyfriend, hairless, effeminate, a twink. A few months into your relationship he tired to get you to grow a beard, told you to stop using nair on your arms and back. You said youd only do it if he did the same but he would always respond "I dont want to look like an animal!" Eventually you gave in, did a no shave november as a birthday gift for him. You looked horrible, with only a light dusting on your upper lip to show for it at the end of the month... your boyfriend was expecting more. You tried to tune him out, he kept talking about supplements and testosterone treatments. There was something you could add to water, a pill you could take, a cream. You didnt want to hear it. You liked being a twink, you liked being a bottom, you didnt want to be like you boyfriends exes all dilfy and straight passing. They watched sports, treated your boyfriend like a house wife, and worked blue collar jobs. You wanted to stay in your field as a scientist, you wanted to have an equal partnership with your partner. Though there was a part of you, an animal part of you, that wanted to let go and devolve into the kind of man your boyfriend wanted you to be.

Today, on your day off, you decided to take a shower. Your boyfriend had already been up, cleaning the house or something. You stumbled to the shower, half awake and not thinking. You didnt stop to ask why your wet skin felt itchy and why your morning wood didnt get ofter with the water, in fact, it was getting harder and harder. You were planning on saving your load for your boyfriend but you couldnt help it. You needed it. You wrapped your hand around your cock and began stroking only a moment later realizing that it wasnt your think twinky hand stroking your cock but a thick bearish man's paw, covered in thick black hairs. You screamed in a deep manly voice, its not your own voice or at least it wasnt. Your boyfriend came in, half scared half excited. He looked at you as you rubbed your hands over your body, as you felt the hair growing in, the beard, the pelt, the growth. The reality hit you like a car, fast and quick. Everything started to make sense, you knew exactly what was happening but it was too late to do anything about it. You were becoming what he wanted, a bear of a man. Its starting with your body, the hair on your head beginning to fall out, the beard pushing out of your skin, the layer of fur, and then its going to be your mind. Your boyfriend must have snuck those supplements, the oils, into your shampoo or something. You look at him over your shoulder, if its true that he put the oils in your shampoo maybe theres still enough on you.

You grab him, pulling your fully clothed twink boyfriend into the shower with you. Hes panicking, "youre supposed to be the daddy not me!" Its too late, as your body gets bigger, hairier, older, so does his. He's crying as the oils, stuck in your thick pelt of fur, get all over him and begin to work their magic. You probably would have cried too, probably would have fought it, but by the time you realized what was happening your mind had already been changed. The old you was already gone and in its place was a mans man more interested in sports than in his appearance.

In the end there wasnt enough oil left to change your boyfriend completely but you made sure to get his face. He might look a few years younger than you and be less hairy but that beard makes up for it. You can imagine the old him screaming trapped inside his new jock brain. You boyfriend used to only care about makeup and boys, now all he cares about is beard care and gains. As for you? Youve settled into your new lifestyle as a daddy. Youre a sold man now, with a nice beard and good pelt of hair. Every night you and your boyfriend watch a football game to get you in the mood before you rail him like the good daddy you are.

[misctf]

Alright. I’ve seen a lot of requests about turning cocky guys into twinks — totally fair. But I’d like to ask for the opposite, or almost that.

My favorite stories of yours are the ones where some poor guy is in the wrong place at the wrong time and ends up becoming a cocky bastard (Gridirion Brew, Make Sense, Gone Fishing).

So how about a story about a needy twink looking for a cocky, dominant top… and a poor, recently engaged guy — studious, respectfull, devoted to his beautiful fiancée, — who crosses paths with the wrong person at the wrong time.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, buddy,” Adam slowly shut the door to his best man's room. “Drink some water before you pass out this time.”

“Yeah, yeah,” somebody groaned from inside. “You’re about to be someone’s husband and still sound like my mom.”

Adam shook his head, smiling as he headed toward the elevators. His bachelor party had turned into exactly what he expected: too much drinking, too much yelling, and the people he loved most acting like complete idiots together... He’d loved every second of it.

“Wouldn’t trade those idiots for anything,” Adam muttered as he stepped into the elevator, scrolling through reels Claire had sent him.

The doors had barely started closing before hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway.

“Wait! Hold it!”

“Got you.” Adam stuck his arm out automatically.

“Oh, thank god,” the stranger breathed, his eyes lighting up the moment he saw Adam. “You seriously just saved my evening. I was starting to think I’d have to go upstairs alone.”

Adam laughed awkwardly, “I think you might’ve misunderstood something, I’m not looking for…”

“Shhhhh.” The guy stepped closer. “That’s okay. You’re gonna make me feel really fucking good tonight, stud.”

Adam blinked. “What?”

“Name's Nico,” he said lazily. “Don’t ruin this for me.”

Before Adam could answer, Nico leaned forward and kissed him. Adam's hands came up to shove him away, but he froze.

“I… sorry, I think you got the wrong...”

Then Adam looked at him again, words catching in his throat. His eyes dropped to Nico’s ass in those tight black jeans.

"You like?"

“Oh...” Adam swallowed hard. “No, I... I shouldn’t…” His thoughts raced. “I’m not into guys. I’m getting married…”

“Mhm.” Nico stepped closer again. “Go ahead, baby.”

“Oh fuck…” Adam panted suddenly as his hand grabbed a fistful of Nico’s ass.

Nico smiled instantly. “There you go.”

Nico's hands slipped beneath Adam’s shirt, cool palms dragging over his stomach and chest before squeezing a growing pec. Adam’s breath caught instantly, the kiss turning rougher before he even realized it.

“Mmm… fuck,” Nico sighed against his mouth.

Adam groaned, fingers kneading the firm curve of Nico’s ass, while rough stubble grew along his jaw with every slow squeeze.

“You’re really into this now.”

“No… Nico, I can’t…” Adam broke away, face flushed, hands still on Nico's ass. “Jesus Christ… I’m getting married…”

“Shhhh.” Nico smirked, sliding his hands up Adam's shirt and through the hair spreading across his chest, “Oh my god,” Nico breathed. “You feel so fucking good already.”

“Fuck…” Adam gripped his ass harder as nails scratched down his back. “I need dis…” The words hit his ears wrong. “No… what de hell...?”

"Follow me, big guy."

And he did. The second the elevator doors opened, Adam followed. Right to Nico's room. The guilt twisted hard through his stomach.

“Claire...” Adam shuddered. “Can never know... about dis… fuck… she can’t…”

"Oh she never will." Nico giggled and pulled Adam into his hotel room.

Clothes were quickly discarded and Adam groaned as Nico's smooth bare skin pressed against his increasingly bulkier, hairier, and sweatier form.

“Fuck…” Nico’s hands slid over the thickening muscle in Adam’s arms, “I needed a man like you tonight.” He buried his face against Adam’s increasingly hairier pit and inhaled. “Mmm… you smell incredible.”

With a grunt, he shoved Nico against a wall, hand wrapping around his bare ass. Warm skin flexed beneath his palm, impossibly soft without the denim in the way... smooth, firm, and perfect in a way Adam had never thought about another man's ass before.

“Oh fuck…” Adam groaned shakily against Nico’s throat. “Ya Allah… you're drivin' me crazy…”

Nico smiled lazily while grinding up against him. “Mmm. Been thinking about you fucking me since the elevator…”

The words hit Adam hard and Claire’s face flashed through his mind again... Unaware her fiancé was naked in a hotel room with another man. The guilt swelled, but Adam still shoved Nico onto the mattress.

“Yeah…” Adam breathed heavily. “You... like dis? You want dis?" Adam climbed over him, their eyes locking as dark brown rings spread slowly through Adam’s blue irises.

“Fuck…” Nico's hands slid across Adam’s sweaty, hairier pecs, “That’s it… come here, big guy…”

Nico shifted and rolled onto his front, raising his bare ass against Adam's throbbing cock. Adam’s breathing turned ragged, stomach twisting hard. He wasn't this kind of man... He was Claire's dependable fiancé. Her best friend. Her future husband... Not the man currently grinding his cheating cock against another man’s ass.

“Fuck…” Adam tightened his grip on Nico’s hips. “Dis isn’t me… 'uqsim, hadha lays 'ana." Adam froze... that language... he didn't...

"Huh? Wh... fuck... Wh-what did you say?" Nico smirked and looked over his shoulder, "Oh fuck..."

Adam felt it before he saw it. His cock throbbed and grew to a size beyond anything Adam ever possessed. His cock head emerging from a sheath of foreskin he knew shouldn't be there.

"Dere is no way..." He whispered, "It's so..." He moaned as he grew another inch, cock now pressing against Nico's tight entrance.

"Please... I need it." Nico begged, "It's all I need tonight."

Adam gasped suddenly as his pecs filled with muscle. And as they did, his new chest hairs suddenly curled longer and darkened toward black against his heavier muscle.

“Fuck…” Claire used to fall asleep with her head against his lean chest. But these heavier pecs were damp with sweat and dark curling hair now, nothing like the body she loved. “Ya Allah… look at dis… it just keeps gettin’ thicker…”

“Mmm…” Nico moaned, glancing back at him.

“Oh fuck… what’s dat smell?” Adam grimaced.

“That's… you big guy."

“Mustaheel…” Adam muttered, lifting an arm and grimacing at the thick musk clinging to his sweat-soaked, matted pit hair, “Y-you like dis…?”

"Fuck… yeah. Smell like a real man… mmm, so fucking hot…" Nico whimpered.

Adam shuddered hard at the words. Claire used to steal his hoodies because they smelled clean and comforting. She would’ve recoiled from this heavy masculine musk pouring off him now.

"You're perfect..." Nico groaned, pressing his ass against Adam's erection, "Just... fuck me already."

“Wallah…” Adam nearly obliged, but Claire’s smile flashed suddenly through his mind, "What de fuck is wrong wit me?”

He dragged a shaking hand through his hair, catching on something unfamiliar along his cheek. He touched his jaw again instinctively and recoiled. Stubble. Thick, perfect stubble. He'd always joke about never being able to grow a real beard. Claire always told him she loved his clean-shaven look.

"How de fuck....?" He watched as dark hair thickened across swelling forearms and olive blotches crept slowly over pale skin, "Wallah?"

The mirror caught him briefly and he froze. Damp blond hair darkened toward black while brown swallowed the blue in his eyes. Those eyes Claire adored. The hair she loved threading through her fingers.

"I... I want you inside me..." Nico moaned, "J-just..."

Adam looked down and back to the mirror. The man staring back at him still carried traces of Adam in places, but not enough. Not enough for his friends or best man to recognize him. Barely enough for Claire. Even his own mother would hesitate… And panic rose in his chest. He just wanted to go back downstairs, back to his friends, back to the man Claire loved, back to being Adam again. Because right now, Adam didn’t feel like Adam anymore.

He grunted suddenly before he could even process that thought. His cock leaked as a low groan vibrated deep through his chest before he could stop it.

“Ya Allah…” His rough hands spread Nico’s ass cheeks. “You’re gonna take all dis for me, yeah?” The words hadn’t felt chosen. Neither had the smug grin slowly pulling across his face while his heavier body settled more naturally over Nico.

“Mmm… there you are...” Nico whispered softly, sounding relieved.

He couldn't hold back any longer. With a guttural growl, he buried his cock deep into Nico's ass. The twink let out a choked cry, back arching sharply as he was impaled.

Thrust.

Dense muscle any gym bro would be proud of settled over him in all the right places. Stronger hands pinned Nico down instinctively while his pace roughened.

“Fuck… ya Allah…” He stared down at himself breathlessly. “Bro… look at dese… fuck… Havin’ a body like dis feels so fuckin' good…”

“Mmm… trust me...” Nico whimpered. “Feels even better underneath you.”

Thrust.

Warm olive swallowed the last pale traces across his skin while heavy musk and cheap cologne clung permanently to his body.

“Mmm… such a slut... for my scent.” He grunted.

“Fuck…” Nico whimpered. “I wanna bury my face in your pits so bad…”

Thrust.

The last traces of his old facial features disappeared forever behind the thick beard, dark brown eyes, and a permanent cocky grin devoid of his usual warmth.

“Mmm… dat’s right,” He smirked when Nico stared up at him breathlessly. “Keep lookin’ at me like dat while I fuck you…”

Thrust.

“Wh-what’s your name, big guy…?”

“Kareem,” he answered immediately.

“Mhmm… that name...is... always popular…”

“Den scream it for me."

Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.

Kareem slapped Nico's jiggling ass, “Mmm… dat’s right, habibi… take it,” he groaned smugly, "Fuck... Dis hole was... made for my... fat Arab cock... wasn't it?"

Thrust, thrust, thrust, thrust...

Kareem grunted, pace quickening. The engagement ring felt uncomfortable around his swollen finger, so he instinctively pulled it off and tossed it somewhere in the room.

“Mmm… fuckin' slut…” Kareem groaned, "Ya Allah… look at dis… all dis fuckin’ muscle… you fuckin' love it.” He slowed down, "You want me to finish?" He teased, "Want Kareem to fill you?"

"Pl-please..." Nico moaned into the mattress, "Kareem... oh fuck!"

"Ya Allah… you needed dis dick so bad.” Hands squeezing Nico’s hip harder. “Slut gets one real Arab guy smellin’ like dis on top of him and forgets his own name…”

"Kareem!" Nico moaned, "Kar... Kareem... oh fuck... please..."

Kareem buried himself deep inside Nico's ass, followed by a guttural roar as his cock erupted, flooding Nico's insides with thick, hot seed. 

"Take it all, bitch... fuckin' take it!" he growled, his body shuddering with the force of his climax.

As the last pulses subsided, Kareem collapsed forward, his sweaty chest pressing against Nico. His softening cock still inside Nico. And Kareem's eyes closed.

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

He woke slowly beneath tangled sheets, groaning as dense muscle shifted across his chest and arms. He scratched at the dark hair on his chest, his nose twitching at the scent of sweat, cologne... of him. For a few moments, he stared at his body, processing the sight.

“Ya Allah…” Kareem smirked to himself, “Dat twink ain’t ever recoverin’ from me…”

“Oh, you’re awake.” Nico glanced up from his phone. “Yeah... you're one of my best works yet...”

“What da fuck does dat mean?”

“Nothing.” Nico shrugged casually. “Anyway, you should leave... like now.” The words landed and the larger man froze.

Kareem blinked, sitting up slowly. “W-wait…” Uncertainty cracked faintly through the swagger for the first time. “Where do I go? What should I...?”

“Always the same questions.” Nico smirked, unable to recall the number of times he'd heard them, “I dunno. There’s a gym down the street? Download Grindr? Yeah... You’re hot. Someone’ll take you in.”

“Dat’s it?”

“I don’t really care.”

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

Kareem stared in the mirror of a public restroom, wresting with the sense that he was supposed to be somewhere else doing something important. But without a phone, wallet, or anything else, he was lost.

But then he caught him. Some twink washing his hands, staring at him. And Kareem knew that look. The lust... A cocky grin spread across Kareem’s face.

“Mmm… you keep lookin’ at me like dat, I’m gonna start thinkin’ you want somethin’.”

The guy flushed immediately. “S-sorry, I just…”

Kareem smiled lazily. Cute. Nervous. Kareem would have him wrapped around his finger easily.

“Mmm… yeah. You’ll do just fine for now, habibi. You got a place nearby or what?”

[merryy3dbhsjsk]

The Gods Return: Poseidon

Kade Wilson was on a long overdue vacation, technically it was a work trip for a conference. He worked for a small company that traded and managed money, a good business he had thought when he got the job, seeing the gold watches and Rolls Royces of the company’s stock. But it turns out when your job is to crunch numbers as a basic office drone you didn’t get paid enough, his salary was enough to live on yeah. but he had always had an appetite for the finer things in life, craving the privilege of the Wealthy elites. 

The third annual financial conference of the western US was held in a beautiful California hotel, the company had paid for some rooms and after one of the company’s more high up managers had called out, Kade had been asked to go. The first day it was made quite clear the other company men thought he had no place here, leaving him to wander the conference alone. He had resented them for that but really who would want him taking along. Slightly over weight and still as smooth as a preteen, he looked nothing like the other financier bros who attended. They wore expensive looking suits and ties and polished loafers that hadn’t been worn and probably wouldn’t be again after the conference while Kade was dressed in a cheap dress shirt and pants wearing thin from use. 

He had barely survived the first two days and on the morning of the third had decided to ditch, no one would miss him anyway. He walked a couple blocks to the beach, and looked at the water with a wondering eye. Why was life so unfair, he walked hard, harder than any of those nepotism brats back at the hotel. Yet he was expected to do the labor to put more money in their pockets. Trying to diminish their thoughts and enjoy the beach, he walked along the sidewalk stopping when he reached a small shop in the sand. Clearly a touristy joint, with wood walls barely holding up a thatched roof. The tiny shack was packed full of tight shelves and a whole wall was covered in surf boards. The bleach blonde cashier looked up at him, eyes glazed over, clearly high. 

Kade nodded to him and started to browse the shelves, looking through stacks of garish trinkets and clearly fake shells. Behind a cheap wood sign with the words “sun’s for everyone” he found a small statue of some nude Greek god, holding a triton and surrounded by foaming waves in the shapes of horses. He felt an almost uncanny pull to the state and reached out to touch it. When he did he heard a slow deep voice coming from nowhere.

“Hello, Chosen one.”

“What,” Kade squeaked out, he glanced quickly to the Cashier but his head was bent down clearly in his own drug induced world. 

The voice chuckled, “he won’t bother us, child”.

“Who’s speaking to me,” Kade only felt fear knowing it wasn’t a person speaking to him, but something else

“Do you not recognize me boy,” the disembodied voice demanded good naturally, “I am who you hold, for I am Poseidon incarnate”

“Wait, Poseidon, as in the god Poseidon. Like the ancient Greek god.”

“Yes”

“How”

“I have waited long for this moment and shall not waste time explaining to you how I have been watching throughout time, waiting to begin to fulfill the last prophecy of the oracle at Delphi” 

“What”

“No matter, I am here for you, chosen one. I have seen you work and your desires, I have felt your anger, misplaced though it is. You shall see the truth, for money does not make happiness but happiness does”

“That make zero sense”

“You shall see, you will be my prophet, my first disciple” 

“Um no”

“You have no choice, for I am a god and you are not. A true heir of Poseidon you shall be, unwavering on you devotion to me”

Kade was weirded out, this had to be some sort of elaborate prank. He tried to move, get out of this stupid store but his legs were like stone. He couldn’t move his body anymore. All the sudden he felt a warm rush go over him. his head tingling slightly as he was forced to believe in his lord Poseidon, thought and doubts melted away. He  was left with a deep sense of honor and pride, for the great master Poseidon was speaking to him. 

“Better boy,” Poseidon said, as Kade became still listening intently to him, “you are to be a true leader of my followers. I have watched this world for a long time and have found the perfect form for my disciple, the surfers of the waves.”

Kade felt a little woozy as his mind began to change, memories stretching and twisting like taffy being pulled, growing more dull with each tug. His Arizona childhood was replaced by memories of growing up in shoreline California, spending his days under the sun. He recalls loving the simple life his family had, recalls his father teaching him how to ride the waves and giving him his first surf board on his 12th birthday, recalls flunking out of high school to pursue pro surfing. His earlier anger simply fades away as the source does too. The idea of a conference sounding foreign to him. As the faint memory of sitting in his cubicle crunching numbers makes him shudder, the idea of sitting inside for 8 hours is too horrible to imagine. He feels remarkably content as final memories of surf competitions and long beach days take hold in his consciousness replacing his intelligence.

The voice of Poseidon spoke again, “excellent, now you must look the part. my heir should be strong after all”

Kade’s body felt like it was struck by a wave of water, despite not being wet. His torso rippled as his spin grew, stretching beneath his back. His fat melted away, replaced by solid lean muscle. Two flat hard pecs popped into place, nipples erect as a small tuffet of hair grew in the center of his new chest. Washboard abs wiggled their way to the surface, a thick treasure trail running up them. His waist shrunk as if pulled by an invisible corset, as his hips formed into a defined V shape. Kade casually rubbed his new abs, not noticing his shirt had vanished too. 

Next the transformation spread to his limbs. Biceps and triceps blowing up into well developed muscle with sharply defined veins. These muscly appendages ended in thick meaty paws with hard null nails. His thighs thickened in his shabby pants, pulling them out to accommodate his new girthy legs. Calves and quads growing into melonous blobs and thick spread of hair growing. instantly wet and flat against his leg as if he had just gotten out of the water. His feet grew to massive size, the bottoms thickened as he had never worn shoes in his life, which, if his new memories were correct, he never had.

Poseidon’s next command was quickly forth-coming, “you are truly a surfer and look the part well, you must however also be truly a devout of Poseidon.”

Kade's body started to go through its final shift as the last of the mental changes kicked in like a crashing wave. His hair grew shorter and smelled faintly of salt as his feet went through a final growth spurt, the tops growing clumps of dark hair. His shoes and pants followed his shirt to vanish in the ether. A new pair of swim trunks, bright blue with watermelon prints materialized around his thick thighs and growing pouch. The pouch in question had begun as a small 3” incher but had slowly been expanding. As he felt a strange session in his balls, like when he got sand in his suit but moving into him. His now swollen testicles filled with godly seed, mixed of pure testosterone, ocean salt, and his melted down old self and memories. As his large dick settled at a solid 11” inches the now thick forest of pubic hair began to let forth a musky smell. The smell quickly spread around his body, collecting more strongly in his armpits, ass, and feet. He soon smelled strongly of a mix of sweat, salt, ocean water, and manly musk.

In Kade's mind the nature of Poseidon began to take hold. His mind filled with knowledge of the sea god, his mastery of the sea, his creation of horses and many conquests. Speaking of conquests, Kade's mind also fills with images of naked men and women as a new desire begins to take hold, to take them and breed them, claim them with his glorious seed. Like his master he had a strong desire to fuck anything that moved. His masters wishes became Kade's pure desire, his brain began to work furiously hard to create a plan to create more followers of Poseidon. Thinking already of the enjoyment of forcing more people into devout servitude to his great ruler.

“You are my perfect prophet,” Kade filled to the brim with pleasure at Poseidon's praise. His master's voice grew faint as the statue vanished into a puff of salt. His last words ringing in Kade's ears, “bring me more”

Kade shook himself out of his trance, the surf shop slowly fading around him. He grabbed a nice surf board before it too could fade away. Heading out he leapt from the ground to a nearby car’s roof, courtesy of his new superhuman strength. He surveyed the beach with an experienced eye, looking for his next target. When the car beneath his massive feet began to honk, he smiled. Looks like he found them, after all the gods will return and Kade was just doing his part. 

(This is easily my favorite in the series so far. As a Percy Jackson fan, Poseidon was obviously the one I was most interested in writing, and damn is this a good time. Greek mythology and surfers, what could go wrong. . .)

[beausstuff]

Engine Light

Inspired by @artificial-transmutations

"FUCK MAN!" Mark screamed, slamming the hood of the silver 2023 Audi A4 back down. The sound wasn't the solid thunk of German engineering he expected; it was a tinny, rattling clang that vibrated in his teeth.

Drake stood by the guardrail, scowling. He picked at his cream polo, which was already damp with sweat. Not a very flattering look

"I don't even know why you opened it, man," he said, his voice tight with the specific anxiety of the privileged. "It's not like you’d know what to do. The most car work I've seen you do was pairing your iPhone."

Mark wiped his hands on his beige chinos, leaving a faint smudge of road grit. He stared at it, horrified. Feeling overwhelmed for a moment.

"My dad is going to kill me, Drake. If we miss the orientation at Deloitte in Chicago, the internship is gone! We have to call a tow truck."

The wind blew the fumes back into their faces, causing their eyes to water.

"No signal," Drake said, holding up his phone. "Dead zone. We have to push it. I saw a sign for a garage a mile back.... I think."

"Push it?" Mark looked at his loafers, "Are you stupid? In this heat? It’s like a hundred degrees!"

"Do you have a better idea, counselor?" Drake snapped.

Mark stared.

They pushed.

It was a grueling, embarrassing shuffle. The heat was a physical weight, pressing down on them. The Loafers were definitely ruined.

By the time they rolled the Audi into the bay of "Sal’s Auto & Repair," they were drenched. Their crisp clothes stuck to their skin like wet tissue paper. The air here was thicker, smelling of rubber, sulfur, and old oil.

The mechanic had rolled himself out from under a truck. He had wiped his hands on a rag.

Didn't speak; he just pointed to the card reader as Mark breathlessly explained the radiator issue.

Mark swiped his platinum card. The machine beeped in the heart dropping way.

"Locked," the mechanic grunted. "System says fraud. Card's dead."

"That's ridiculous," Mark said, his voice cracking. "Run it again. It's a gold account. My father..."

"I don't care about your daddy. Cash or labor, boys. I got a backlog of transmission work and my guy quit yesterday. You want the radiator fixed? You work."

The Mechanic Stared them down, his bulky frame seeming to fill all of their vision. He wasn't the most agreeable, and he definitely could use a refresher on how to use deodorant.

Drakes spirits crashed. Maybe a few hours of work could save them from the embarrassing call back home. Just to pay off the bill. The mechanics weathered lips flitted for just a split second, almost like a quick grin.

*****

"I feel… fucking sick," Drake murmured.

They had been working for four hours. Mark had insisted they just do enough to get the bill paid and leave, but he swore the clock in the garage was broken. It felt like it had been days.

Drake was scrubbing a pile of hubcaps in the back. He had taken off his polo to save it, but his undershirt; a flimsy white tank top, was already ruined, stained yellow with sweat and grey with brake dust.

"It's the fumes," Mark said. He was under the lift, wrestling with an oil pan. He slid out on the creeper. His glasses were fogged up, so he took them off and shoved them in his pocket. He blinked, squinting at Drake. "We just need to get through a few hours. What was… what was our ETA for Chicago?"

"Tuesday," Drake said. Then he frowned. "Wait. Was it Tuesday? Or Thursday?"

"It doesn't matter," Mark snapped, though his voice lacked its usual bite. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, leaving a thick streak of grease across his brow.

"Hand me the… the twister thing."

"The wrench?" Drake asked, looking at the tool bench.

"Yeah. The wrench." Mark stared at his own hand. It was trembling. Man I need to moisturize. The hand in front of him looked different. His knuckles seemed swollen and broad. The undersides of his nails were stained black, and his hands were so caked in oil, you couldn't even make out his fair pale skin...

in fact his skin looked real dark...

"Here," Drake said, handing him the dirty wrench. Their fingers brushed.

He looked at Mark.

...When had Mark taken off his shirt?

His chest glistening with sweat. Drake felt a strange tightening in his gut.

"Thanks," Mark grunted. His voice sounded lower. Rough. He didn't pull his hand away immediately. He looked up at Drake,

Damn he looked good in this garage,

"You missed a spot on that rim."

"Make me clean it," Drake laughed.

Mark just laughed,

a low, gravelly sound that didn't belong to a pre-law student. "Keep it up, pretty boy."

****

Drake woke up on a cot in the back office. He reached for his phone to check the stock market, the same as every other morning. But his hand felt clumsy. He dropped the phone. When he picked it up, he frowned

The app must have glitched out, because none of the numbers made any sense to him...

The S & P 500 is.... huh what is that anyway?

"Yo, Duke! Get your ass up!"

Drake flinched. Duke? Who the hell is Duke?

He walked out into the bay. The heat hit instantly. He immediately felt a wetness under his arm pits. Hadn't he put on a T shirt this morning.

The wife beater stretched tight over his skin, hugging his chest.... his impressive chest, and showing off veiny arms from years under the hood.

Mark was leaning over the fender of a car. But it wasn't the Audi.

It was a '69 Chevelle. Smokey grey.

A sexy mother fucking vehicle.

"Mark?" Drake asked, his voice cracking into a deep baritone.

Mark turned around. He had a cigarette dangling from his lip. He inhaled deeply, the tip glowing cherry-red, and exhaled a cloud of blue smoke that mingled with the shop's haze.

"Its Mac, Dumbass" the man grunted. He looked at Drake with hooded, predatory eyes. "And grab a rag. We gotta tune the carb before noon."

"since when do you smoke? You know I..." Drake stammered, staring at the pack of Reds in Mac’s pocket. "I have asthma man."

"You ain't got asthma," Mac growled, walking over. He moved with a heavy, hip-rolling swagger, his jeans riding low on his hips, revealing the adonis lines of his pelvis.

He pulled a cigarette from the pack and shoved it between Drake’s lips. "Light up. And get yer ass to work."

Drake let him light it. The smoke filled his chest, burning, searing. It should have made him cough. Instead, it felt like oxygen. The rush of nicotine quieted the screaming voice in his head that remembered Chicago.

"The car…" Drake pointed at the Chevelle. "That aint what we rode in on... is it?"

Mac looked at the car, then back at Drake. He stepped closer, invading Drake’s personal space. The smell of him

sweat,

stale tobacco,

musk

it was overwhelming. It made Drake’s knees weak.

"It's always been a Chevelle, Duke," Mac whispered, his voice thick with a sudden, irrational anger. "You hit your head or something? We been fixing this piece of shit for a week."

"A week?" Drake’s mind reeled. It’s been a day. It’s been a lifetime. "But the internship…"

"Fuckin wake up man" Mac growled. He grabbed Drake’s chin with a grease-stained hand, forcing him to look him in the eye. "You shittin with me? Or you just come in high again?"

Mac Pushed Drake Duke aside and turned around to face the car again, Displaying his massive back, clearly defined through his soaked through wife beater...

Drake Duke stood there fore a moment reeling, before walking up behind him... waiting for the work to begin.

*****

The shop was a furnace. The fan rattled uselessly against the wall.

Duke was under the chassis, tightening the suspension. He slid out on the creeper, his body slick with oil and sweat. He wiped his face, smearing black grease across his cheekbones.

Mac was standing by the workbench, wiping down a socket set. He was shirtless, his back muscles rippling as he moved. He had a mullet now

thick, dark hair curling over his neck, damp with sweat.

Duke stood up. He walked over to Mac. He didn't say a word. He just grabbed the pack of cigarettes off the bench, shook one out, and lit it. Mac turned. He looked at Duke.

"She running rich?" Mac asked, his voice a low rumble.

"Lean," Duke corrected. He took a drag, blowing the smoke into Mac’s face. "Need to open her up."

Mac laughed, before looking Duke up and down, playing with his crotch.

"You talking about the car, or you talking about me?"

"Both," Duke growled.

Collision.

He shoved Mac back against the tool chest. The metal drawers rattled with a crash, Tools spilled in every direction

Duke fumbled with Macs stained Jeans, slipping his hands to grope Macs enormous, straining cock.

His mouth worked lower and lower,

His tongue soaking up all the oil

Grease,

And sweat

Mac grasped Dukes rounded shoulders with his oil stained hands, Shoving him lower and lower.

"Get to Work Boy," He said, Grabbing a fist full of Dukes Hair,

"We got about 8 minutes before our next Service ticket shows."

Duke choked in response

From the garage window, The shop owner grinned. Illuminated by the glow of a cigar.

He sure was glad those good ol boys had shown up when they did.

Always loved guiding the Rising generation towards the trades.

*****

Hey Guys! Hope you enjoyed the story! Had a lot of fun exploring this idea while I was on vacation haha. Feel free to message or submit in my inbox, story ideas, or how you would Transform me (profile pic)

[bigification]

It's Too Late

It had been one year since Danny started working for his dad's construction company. It wasn't ideal, but he needed a job after he graduated and this was a temporary solution until he could get a job in business.

Danny opened the door of his truck, instantly feeling the chill in the air. Spring had been awfully cold, it seemed to be getting everyone sick, even his father had called in sick this morning. He grabbed his jacket and threw it on before putting on his hard hat.

"Hey bud *cough* how ya doin?" His foreman, Mike, asked Danny as he walked into the site.

"I'm good, you?"

"I'm alright, *cough* I think I caught something." He said between fits of coughing.

"Maybe you wouldn't be sick if you ever wore a jacket." Danny joked as he tugged on his foreman's thin T-shirt.

"What are you, my dad?" Mike chuckled.

The morning was a bit boring, but the work went by fast. They were nearly done excavating for an extension to a fancy looking laboratory. Danny overheard Mike talking about it being some well funded government deal, but it was too boring to bother paying attention to it.

It was only a couple hours into his shift when Danny felt a tingle in the back of his throat. It started small, something that would go away when he cleared his throat, but it quickly worsened. He tried holding in the coughs, but it didn't work. His face grew more and more red before he burst out into a cough.

"You okay, bud?" Mike asked.

Danny didn't speak, he couldn't speak. He flashed a thumbs up, but he wasn't okay. He suddenly felt burning hot and his skin became irritated. Clearly flustered, he stumbled towards his truck and closed himself inside it.

The coughing started to slow down just enough for him to catch his composure, but he still felt a burning heat welling in his stomach. He felt his shirt tighten around his midsection, and upon looking down, he noticed his stomach rising. He didn't even know how to react as his flat stomach swelled into a modest belly.

"What the fuck..."

Danny placed his hand on his stomach, feeling it sink into the soft fat that bulged out in front of him. He barely had time to react as the rest of his body also began to change. His strong pecs grew both with muscle and fat, pressing tightly against his shirt while not quite losing their shape. He could feel his arms fill out the sleeves of his shirt, constricting tightly around his thick biceps as his hands grew strong and meaty.

"Fuck yeah!" Danny laughed as he flexed his massive arms.

Similar to his arms, his legs started to thicken, filling out the space in his jeans. His ass grew wide and perky, straining his belt as his thighs threatened to burst through his pants. He even felt his feet curl up as they outgrew his boots.

Danny relaxed as the changes seemed to slow. Out of curiosity, he pulled down the sunshade to check himself in the mirror. It was hard to see his body in the tiny mirror, but he noticed something off about his face. His face had filled out, with a slight double chin peeking below his softer jawline, but it wouldn't be visible for long. Thick black hairs sprouted all over his clean shaven face, weaving into a bushy beard that covered his jawline. Even more shocking was when most of the hairs turned grey all the while his features began to age. Wrinkles formed around his eyes and on his forehead, and he could feel his hairline receding slightly.

He sat there, slack jawed as he stared at his bulky middle aged body in the mirror. But the shock didn't last long before his expression turned to satisfaction.

"Lookin' good, big guy." Danny said to himself in the mirror. He was shocked by how his deep voice boomed through the empty truck.

He made different expressions in the mirror and flexed his thick muscles, finding a deep attraction to his own dad bod. But his modeling session was cut short when someone swung the truck door open.

- Meanwhile -

Ring Ring!

Pete woke abruptly to his phone ringing. He slowly rolled out of his husband's arms and reached to grab his phone.

"What?" Pete answered, clearly annoyed.

"Well you're in a lovely mood." The voice on the other side mocked.

"This is my day off, why are you calling me this early."

"This is urgent. The alarm went off at one of our labs and none of the researchers are answering their phones. I need you to check and see if everything is fine." The man asked, seemingly stressed.

"Why me?" Pete argued, still groggy.

"The lab is right down the street from your house. I'm on my way now, but you can get there faster than I can. I just need you to make sure there isn't a leak. The research in that lab cannot get out!"

"Jeez, okay. I can be there in a couple minutes."

Pete hung up his phone and jumped out of bed. He threw on his uniform and gave his husband a kiss on the forehead.

"Bye John, I'll be back soon."

He quickly sneaks out of the room, throws on his boots, and heads out the door.

For a cold Spring morning, the sun was beading down really hard on Pete. He threw on some sunglasses and rolled up his sleeves as strolled down the sidewalk.

After a couple minutes of walking, he could already see the lab down the street. Luckily, it didn't look like there was anything wrong from where he was, no fire, no panic.

Once Pete got closer, he tried looking for something out of the ordinary, but the only thing that looked out of place was some construction going on outside the lab building. He walked into the site to see an older guy standing alone.

"Hello, sir." Pete caught the man's attention. "Are you the foreman?"

"Yes sir." The man reached out for a handshake. "Name's Mike."

"Mike... Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary around this building?" Pete asked.

"Ugh... No not really. Though I've had a pretty nasty cough since I got here, it seems to be hittin' my boys harder than me tho."

"And where would they be?" Pete questioned.

"One just went to take a piss and the other went over to his truck." Mike pointed to Danny's truck. "He's been in there a while now, I'm starting to get worried."

"I'll go talk to him." Pete said as he walked over to the truck.

He peeked through the window and saw an older man, around Mike's age. Pete knocked on the window, but couldn't seem to catch the man's attention, so he yanked the door open.

The man stumbled out of the truck, still coughing up a lung. Pete stepped back, trying not to get run over by the larger man. He tried to calm the man down, but he continued to cough right in Pete's face.

It wouldn't be long before Pete felt a tingle in the back of his throat. The sensation quickly grew into a violent cough, and with each cough, his chest rose. His pecs swelled until they ripped through his shirt, revealing a broad and hairy chest underneath. His arms thickened until his sleeves ripped in half while a thick pelt of hair grew over his arms, all the way down to his thick man hands.

"What is happening...to me?" Pete struggled to keep his balance.

He pants also tore in dramatic fashion as he stepped up onto a nearby picnic table, leaving him in nothing but a tight jockstrap and boots. His ass perked up and his thighs grew to the point that they rubbed together when he walked.

Unbeknownst to Pete, his face had also begun to change. His five o'clock shadow grew into a small beard while his nose grew and his eyes wrinkled.

"Pete!?" A familiar voice called out.

Pete looked up and smiled as he saw a familiar face.

"What's up boss?" He asks in a mature gruff voice.

"My god..." The man's eyes widened. "It's too late."

"What are ya talkin' about, bud." Pete asked as he approached his boss.

"It leaked. It can't be contained, it'll just keep spreading." The man spiraled.

"Relax, buddy. I'm sure it'll be fi-"

Pete paused mid sentence before coughing directly into his boss's face. It didn't take long for him to start growing out of his clothes, but Pete barely noticed, his mind seemed somewhere else.

"John!" He shouted before running back towards his house.

It became harder and harder to run as his body continued to grow. His stomach swelled with every breath, quickly becoming a solid beer gut. His shoulders broadened as a thick layer of fat grew over his pecs.

Meanwhile, his body continued to age. His growing beard started to go grey as his hairline receded all the way back, leaving a thin ring of hair left under his hat. His body hair became more dense as it too started to go grey.

The pressure on his aging knees grew as his height soared past 6 and half feet, making him slow down to a brisk jog. He could feel the growing fat in his body bounce with every step he took, and for some reason, it made him horny. His growing cock strained against his tiny jockstrap, begging for release, but he couldn't just yet.

He stumbled into his house, having to duck just to fit through the door. And just as he slammed the door behind him, his throbbing cock burst through the jockstrap, leaking with pre cum.

He ran upstairs and barged into his room, but John wasn't there. Panicked, he rummaged through his wardrobe for some clothes that would fit and found his father's old jeans. They're a bit short for him, but fit perfectly around his larger waist.

He walks back downstairs and sees his husband in the backyard, but something's off. Getting closer, Pete sees a much bulkier and hairier version of his husband barbecuing out back.

The sight of his handsome husband only made his cock leak even more.

He slid the glass door open and approached John. Pete slid his arms around his waist, pinching his soft belly as his rock hard dick pressed against the back of John's American flag speedo.

"Hey, Babe." Pete said as he rubbed his beard on the back of John's neck. "You're lookin' handsome."

Pete lifted John's round belly and let it drop, sending ripples through his soft body.

"I thought you'd like to see this ass in a speedo." John laughed between coughs. "None of my other clothes fit anyway."

"You're a hell of a lot sexier when none of your clothes fit." Pete said as he kissed the back of his neck.

"I bet you can't wait to see me to grow out of this." John flirted.

"I'm sure I won't have to wait long."

- Epilogue -

"Breaking News! A strange outbreak has been taking over New York. Reports suggest that it is a viral infection that is airborne and only infects men, though early accounts suggest that men above the age of 40 are asymptomatic. Their symptoms include a drastic increase in testosterone, characterized by fat and muscle gain, faster growth of body hair, increased libido, and rapid aging. The government has put in early efforts to prevent the spread, but the infection is spreading faster tha-" The news anchor paused as his focus shifted to someone behind the camera. "What are you doing here.... Hey, who are you, you can be in here... Wait... Don't... *Cough cough*"

"What are you watching, Babe?" John asked as he snuggled up beside Pete.

"Just the news. Watch this nerd grow out of his clothes." Pete let out a hearty laugh as the anchorman succumbed to the infection, growing into a fat dad.

John chuckled as he reached to grab some of Pete's popcorn. He took a big handful and stuffed into his mouth when suddenly, his speedo snapped in half.

"Told ya I wouldn't have to wait long." Pete smiled while rubbing John's growing belly.

John simply smiled as he rested his head on Pete's fuzzy chest.

[frozenthrall]

The App

"Dude, I'm screwed," Marcus groaned, tapping his head against the desk. "Coach is gonna bench me if I don't show I'm worth during next game, but I don't have time to train or do anything because of this shit ass exam. I fucking hate organic chemistry. I wish I had full sports scholarship so I wouldn't have to worry about this stuff"

Devin looked up from his desk. "You're being dramatic. You did well on all exams this semester. And you are a good player. You'll do well. I believe in you" he said trying to be a bit more supportive towards his friend.

"Yeah, but that's all thanks to you and your tutoring. Seriously, thanks dude. I don't know what would I do without you " Marcus said, grabbing his own bicep. "Look at this. I'm 6'2 and weigh, what, 175 soaking wet? I get bodied every time I drive the lane. I need to put on some weight."

"You could just… eat more?" Devin suggested ignorantly.

"Bro, I eat. It doesn't stick. If only it was that easy" Marcus sighed. "If I was like 185, maybe I could actually hold my own down low. Get some rebounds. Be a little more physical."

Devin pulled out his phone, half-listening. He'd downloaded some weird app his old roommate sent him. He was given a free trial to test it out. Supposedly you could type things and they'd happen. Probably bullshit, but whatever. He just wanted to test it and this seemed like a good time for it.

Marcus weighs 185 pounds.

Marcus was still talking, but something was different. Looking at him, his shoulders looked broader under his tank top. His arms, usually wiry, now had visible definition. Not huge, but… solid.

"-and then I could actually finish through contact, you know? Like if I was 195, man. That's the dream. Just ten more pounds of muscle and I'd be unstoppable on the field."

"Wait," Devin blinked. "You said you just wanted to be 185."

"185?" Marcus laughed. "Nah, I hit 185 few months ago, your math is wrong. Keep up, man." He stretched a bit , his shirt definitely a lot tigher than it used to be "Been stuck at 185 for months though. Plateau is real. But I don't think I could get that big and continue playing basketball. These babies would just be too big" he added flexing his biceps that was now definitely more noticable.

Devin looked down at his phone. Then back at Marcus. Then at the phone.

Marcus weighs 195 pounds.

"That's why I switched to football, honestly. Able to get a lot bigger"

Devin's head snapped up. "Football? But didn't you play basketball"

Marcus was bigger now. Noticeably bigger. His tank top was straining. His neck had thickened, his chest pushing the fabric outward. He cracked his neck and kept going like nothing had changed.

"Yeah, played. Past tense dude. Back in highschool. You are supposed to be the smart one here" he laughed, his voice deeper "But I could never get this big and stay at basketball" Marcus leaned forward, and Devin could see the way his pecs bunched together. The tank top seams were working overtime. "I've been playing football since freshman year of college. You literally came to the homecoming game. Sat in the front row."

Devin had no memory of this. But it felt real. It felt true. Shaking his head after acquiring a new memory, Devin focused on more pressing matters... "You want to get even bigger?" He asked, almost afraid of the answer.

"Bigger?" Marcus stood up and stretched. The tank top rode up, revealing a tight stomach with the outline of his abs. "I mean… yeah. Honestly? If I could hit 220, I'd be a monster on the field. Tight ends are getting bigger every year. The guys I'm blocking are like 240, 250. I feel small half the time."

"Small." Devin's voice was flat. "You feel small."

"Bro, you don't get it because you don't play." Marcus turned as he heard a small rip. Looking at his tank top, he paused, frowning. "Fuck. I could swear this fit better the other day. I keep outgrowing my clothes lately." He said like it's the most normal thing that kept happening to him. Still, he quickly went back to the original topic... "220 is the goal. But 230?" His eyes got a little dreamy. "At 230 I could play defensive end. Always wanted to rush the passer. Just destroy quarterbacks."

Devin was already typing. He noticed the pattern so he was already a step ahead of Marcus. There was no way anyone would be disatisfied with 250.

Marcus weighs 250 pounds.

And Devin marveled at the change. Marcus's shoulders flared outward, his lats pushing his arms away from his body as the tank top gave up completely. His quads thickened, forcing his stance a little wider as his sweatpants almost tore apart. His chest expended every time he inhaled, but it didn't seem to get smaller when he exhaled. No... Instead it kept on getting bigger. His massive pecs forming a shelf that casted a shadow ober his abs. His jaw looked sharper, more defined. Everything about him was just… more. Was he taller? Perhaps the app changed his size a bit to make room for more muscle...

"Yeah," Marcus said, his voice dropping just slightly, like it had gained some bass. "Honestly being 250 is great. Defensive end is where it's at. The quarterback never sees me coming. Last game I had three sacks. The Coach said some scouts are already asking about me. NFL here I come" He grinned, and even his smile looked more confident.

Devin meanwhile stared at the man in front of him...the broad chest, the thick arms, the way he seemed to fill the room just by standing in it. He'd started this conversation with a lanky basketball player. Now there was a defensive end standing in his dorm room, talking about the NFL like it was inevitable. He couldn't help himself as his thumb hovered over the screen. Marcus was already massive. A 250 pounds of muscle packed into a torn tank top, looking like he could bulldoze through a brick wall. That was enough... at least for now. But Devin's mind started to wonder. What else could this app do?

Marcus caught him staring. "What are you looking at, bro?" He said putting on a new shirt since the last tank top gave up, casually flexing his bicep as it grew to the size of a football. "You've been on your phone all night. Texting some girl?"

"Something like that," Devin muttered. Looking at this muscle hunk he had just created, Devin got a little greedy. Marcus was looking so good, he had to adda few more things-

Marcus has a massive bulge. He's extremely well endowed. He's not shy about it.

"You know what's funny," Marcus said, shifting his weight and spreading his legs a little wider as he sat down, not seemingly not wearing any shorts. He was done with studying for tonight. "Playing D-end, you get a lot of attention. Girls love the big guys." He gestured down at himself and smirked.

Devin's eyes involuntarily dropped. The underwear that Marcus was wearing were suddenly… full. Very full. There was a prominent, thick outline of his bulge running down his thigh that definitely hadn't been there a minute ago. Devin felt his face get hot.

"Dude, my eyes are up here," Marcus laughed, but he didn't sound offended. If anything, he sounded proud. He leaned back on his hands, which only made the situation more obvious. "Not my fault I got blessed, you know? Genetics, man. Some guys get this or that. But I got it all. Muscle, height, dick. What more could man ask for" The man simply smirked

"Right," Devin choked out. "Genetics."

"I mean, you've seen it in the showers. You know what I'm working with." Marcus said it so casually, like it was common knowledge, as he stood up, moving to the bed behind them and the poor chair made a sound in relief. And suddenly... There was another memory in Devin's head. His brain supplied the picture. He had seen it. Marcus was famous for it on the team. Guys joked that he had to tape it down before games. A third leg. That's what they called him.

"Anyway" Marcus continued, adjusting himself without a hint of shame, "Coach wants me to move to offensive line. Says at my size I could be a hell of a left tackle. Protect the quarterback's blind side." He cracked his knuckles. "But I don't know. D-end is more fun. You get to be aggressive."

Devin was only half-listening. His eyes kept drifting down to Marcus's lap, where the thick outline seemed to pulse slightly every time the big man shifted his weight. It was hypnotic. It was also giving Devin ideas.

Marcus is extremely horny all the time. He talks about it openly.

"-and the thing about offensive line is the stance," Marcus was saying, then paused. He let out a low groan and adjusted himself again, more forcefully this time. "Sorry bro. I've been so damn worked up lately. It's annoying."

"Yeah?" Devin's voice came out squeakier than he intended.

"Dude, it's constant. I wake up ready to go. Practice is brutal because I'm chafing in my cup half the time. Showers after? Forget about it. I have to wait till everyone leaves or I'll poke someone's eye out." He laughed, but there was smugness in his expression. "Coach says it's all the testosterone. Guy at my size, lifting as heavy as I do, eating as much as I do… it simply natural"

"So you just… walk around like that?" He said pointing at the hard on he was having at the moment.

"Pretty much." Marcus didn't look embarrassed. If anything, he looked proud of it, like it was just another muscle he'd built. "Girlfriends love it at first. Then they get tired. I had one tell me I was 'too much to handle.'" He made air quotes with his thick fingers, before starting to casually stroke himself. Loking back at Devin, as if he wasn't just pleasuring himself, Marcus smirked again "You've got that look on your face."

"What look?" Devin asked, quickly shaking his head as he looked up from Marcus obvious bulge that was being stroked by those rough and collosal hands. He could see the thick outline of his new dick and the raging libido that came with it. It was... Mesmerizing. But he couldn't just stare at it-!

"The one where you're thinking too hard about something." Marcus studied him with those dark eyes... had they always been that deep brown? "You always do that. It's kind of cute, actually."

"Cute?" Devin's voice cracked. Did his straight roommate call him cute? He could feel it... The blood flowing through him and making his face fed.

"Yeah. That's the word." Marcus said it with a shrug. "You get all flustered. Your ears turn red. It's endearing." He leaned forward, hands still in his underwear . "Any girl would be lucky to have you."

'I'm not into girls' Devin thought as he looked as his phone, already with an idea on how to solve this situation. His thumb hesitated over the screen. Then he typed.

Marcus is bisexual. He prefers men. Specifically, he is deeply attracted to Devin.

A strange look crossed Marcus's face. He blinked slowly, as if seeing something or someone for the very first time. His gaze traveled from Devin's face down and back up again. The casual energy in the room shifted, grew charged.

"You know what?" Marcus said, his voice dropping into a lower register, "Scratch that. Any girl is the wrong thing to say." He stopped stroking himself as he stood up from the bed, all 6'5" of him, packed with 250 pounds of muscle, and crossed the small distance between them. "What I meant to say is... I've been thinking about you differently lately, Devin."

"You have?" Devin's voice was barely a whisper as he couldn't believe what was happening. He saw what the app could do, but this... This was on another level... Was he being too greedy with these changes? It startered out of joke, then goodwill but at the end was only fuffling his fantasies...

"Mm." Marcus was very close now, his face inches away from Devin's "I have. You're always here for me. You're smart. You're funny. And honestly..." He reached out and gently took the phone from Devin's nervous fingers, setting it aside on the desk without even glancing at it. "I find you incredibly attractive. I was just afraid to say it before. But this feels like the right moment, doesn't it? It feels... right." His hand came up, warm and solid, to cup Devin's "Tell me if I'm reading this wrong. Tell me you don't feel it too, and I'll back off. We'll go back to just being friends. No weirdness."

Devin's mind was racing through everything that had changed in the last fifteen minutes. The size, the height, the whole impossible wave of transformations. But looking up into those dark... And huge pecs, he found it hard to care about consequences. "You're not reading it wrong," he said quietly.

"Great." Marcus smiled "Because I was hoping that's what this meant" he said jokingly pointing out small bulge in Devin's pants and the smaller boy immediately blushed even harder. Taking him to bed, Marcus simply smiled "Since you are on board... I've got some ideas about what we should do tonight. And none of them involve studying."

A buzzing sound came from the desk. Devin's phone, screen still glowing. A text from his old roommate: "Did you try the app yet? Hilarious right?? Fair warning though, changes are permanent. LOL". But Devin didn't see. He was otherwise occupied.

[maletf32-deactivated20250513]

New Message

You were bored, scrolling through your social media and seeing nothing really that interested you. While you were browsing, you suddenly got a message from one of your friends. Well, being honest “friend” was a stretch. Aaron was a total meathead, obsessed with his muscles and working out. At some point he used to be a scrawny nerd like you, then suddenly he was this absolute beefcake.

Checking his message, you see he left a link for you with the message “Hey bro, check out this shit!”. Pretty vague, but you decided to click on the link anyway. The second you did, you knew you would regret it. On the screen was some black and white spiral, slowly spinning. You roll your eyes, this clearly was some scam or malware. You go to close the tab, but before you do black text appears on the screen.

Keep reading

[imsrtman]

“Stop. Keep this tab open; you want to keep it open.”

I mean it was right, you were curious about what this video your friend sent you, you couldn’t see yourself not watching it completely. 

“Good. Now Relax, let your mind just turn off.”

You feel yourself slump down into your bed, thinking nothing as you stare into the spiral. Your peripheral visions faded, until all you could see was the spiral.

“Now, I’m going to tell some truths about you.”

“You are completely naked.”

I mean, duh. You always sleep in the nude, and you had just woken up. You were glad you didn’t have any roommates; it would be embarrassing if any of them barged in here to see your skinny frame. At least your girlfriend didn’t seem to mind it.

“You are gay, you love cock.” 

Mm that’s right, nothing like it! Just the thought makes your meager cock stand at attention. So glad you are single… maybe you’d download Grindr again just to find some good cock. 

“You have a fat dick, which you are slowly stroking right now.”

You look down, admiring your massive length as you slowly pump it, struggling to grasp it with two skinny hands. Your dick always seemed to dwarf the rest of your body, but hey, you weren’t complaining! 

“You have massive biceps and meaty arms.”

You chuckle, flexing an arm as the other expertly strokes your cock. Yeah, you never skipped arm day and it clearly shows! You never really considered working out your other muscles much though.. 

“You have fat pecs, with piercings on both nipples.” 

Your free hand gently plays with your nips, as you continue to stare. Your chest was definitely one of your favorite features, you love making guys play with, and occasionally fuck, your pecs. 

“You have a masculine face, fit with a beard and shaved head.” 

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the reflection in your laptop, wondering who it is you are seeing before you realize it’s you! Damn, guess all that studying and exercise has gone to your head a bit! 

“You are dumb as shit, you live to workout with your bros and jack off.” 

Huhu that’s right, I mean not much else to do after you recently dropped out. Who needs school when you got a bod like this? As for money, your OnlyFans was raking in cash recently. People just can’t get enough of you! 

“You are close, close to cumming away your old life. Embrace it.” 

Mmf, old life? No idea what this spiral is talkin’ bout. You feel your balls clench. You’re so fuckin close to cummin you can’t take it. 

“Cum.” 

With that simply command, your cock unleashes a torrent of white all over your abs. Out of breath, you still haven’t looked away from the spiral. 

“Good boy. Now you are going to share this link with at least five of your friends, then close this tab and forget about all these commands. Now.”

You slowly open your eyes, seeing yourself covered in your own cum. Damn bro, guess you had another wet dream. You see you’ve got a message from your best bro Aaron. Damn that’s a nice fuckin’ picture of his morning wood. You happily return the favor, making sure to show off your cum covered chest. 

“Fuck bro , comin over as soon as I can. Keep that cock nice and hard for me!” 

You chuckle dumbly, seems like todays gonna be another one full of hot bro sex. You close your laptop, not seeing five more messages from five of your bros, eager to have some fun as well.

[jerkingnerds2jock]

New Position

Another Commission story from the vault!!! if anyone is looking for a hot tf please consider hitting me up in dms! Slots are open and im willing to write anything and anything, info in dms!

______

Vacations were supposed to make you feel more energized, vibrant, loving life and ready for the challenges ahead. Not leaving you dead fucking tired, a spliting headache and mountains of regret that you will never see the end of. I had taken the week off with the wife and kid to one appease her in spending time with them and two to get a fucking break from the office. The place had been a hell mouth of overworking and under paying me for the last six months and I'd take a week of nonstop yapping and crying. It's just on the last night before our flight out I may or may not have gone to the closest bar and got shit faced.

Listen before I go any further a man like me has needs. I was your classic stud six foot four, athletic build from when I played football in college, I could have gone pro if it wasn't for that stupid acl tearing. (Can you tell im making him awful) my gorgeous short brown hair and chiseled jawline drove ladies wild and everything about me screamed perfectly. I kept everything tight and proportional so it only made sense I got something extra for looking good so don't judge me or what I do.

I know it was a dumb idea but it was my only chance at stress relief and one shot at some pussy that wouldn't get a “headache” (im making him awful im sorry) conveniently before I fucked them. So it was overboard, my credit card would likely not forgive me for all the free drinks and separate hotel room, and my wife could never know. But it was worth it, I had to keep telling myself that it was worth it Ted. Ofcourse I’d get tested before I did anything with my wife, don’t want her catching some fucking std from the slut I banged at a tiki bar but that had to wait till after today.

Whereas my wife and kid got to skip responsibility today, I had to go in early, something about a meeting I could not miss. So jet lagged, with only coffee and an iron shirt to keep me presentable I went in. The office I worked at was far from the liveliest. Just your simple monochrome, cubicle infested building with a breakroom that smelled of microwaved fish and burned coffee. But at least the people were pleasant, I had gotten to know all my coworkers over the last ten years and all of them were more than amicable. I knew Ben in accounting was always a walking ball of anxiety, when he wasn’t pacing the breakroom, crunching numbers he was working out at the gym getting built. Or Tyler who was an insane project manager, absolute slim beast and had the charisma to talk any and every one of us into a job we don’t want to do.

The others were fine, the secretary Stella was hot, had tried to bang her a few times, and our boss was a total smoke show but I tried my hardest to stick with the guys. The last thing I needed was something to slip out at the company Christmas party to my wife that I was misbehaving. Don’t shit where you eat was a rule I lived by and hopefully would come to be the reason I didn’t suffer any consequences in my personal consequences or strife.

Shaking myself out of this endless loop of regret and worry, I smack my face and walk with my head held hide. Fake confidence was still confidence and as I walked to the conference room hidden behind fake frosted glass I prepared for a dull, this could be an email meeting. This would be more than fine and then I can pretend to work while I get through this hangover. Worst case I talk to Rebecca, my boss and tell her I just cant cut it and I missed my wife, she was a sucker for that. Everyone liked the “my wife” guy and trusted him to not fuck them over.

But inside Stella and Rebecca were already gathering their papers like they had just finished a debrief and were leaving. While Ben and Tyler seemed to be getting themselves adjusted at the far end of the table. Each of the men had undone the top few buttons of their shirts as they got comfortable. On the long table was this weird black box with lights blinking on and off. It was such an odd thing I had never seen before, it's lights going on and off in such a rhythmic pattern. It was just so easy to stare at and listen to the area around me.

“Hey Ted, good luck with the meeting!” Stella says, patting me on the back before moving past me. Her legs moved in a hurry like she was a woman possessed and needed to get going somewhere now. Meanwhile Rebecca who had always been energetic and ready for conversation just nodded doing basically the same. If I hadn’t been so tired, or really if I had cared about my coworkers at all I would have noticed their eyes were glazed over. Or questioned their behaviour more, but I didn't. Why would I, I had a meeting to start and if they weren't there it would be easier.

“Okay, I guess it is just that time of the month!” I say moving into the room, Ben had the strangest look on his face. It was confidence, a crooked smirk, his eyes bright, determined. Hell his suit looked tighter, his muscles bulging against the fabric as he crossed his arms across the slabs of beef he called a chest. His smirk only got bigger as he looked me up and down, if i didn’t know any better I would have said he was checking me out but I knew Ben was a real bros bro.

“Yeah.. yeah probably is, come SIT DOWN Ted, we have so much to cover!” Ben motions to one of the seats nearby, and as the word entered the air I felt my brain freak out. My body moving on its own, listening to him like it was a command not a suggestion. It was a crazy experience feeling not being in control of what I was doing but I just rationalized it. Of course I want to be POLITE to Ben, it was his meeting and so his suggestions should be taken into consideration and followed to the best of my ability.

I could have sworn as I sat down Tyler picked his lips, his lean frame shifting in his seat, his hands obscured by the table adjusting or moving something underneath. I had wanted to ask him what he was doing but Ben began to talk again. Letting out a small cough like he was clearing his throat, getting my attention. My eyes immediately snapped to him.

“PAY NO ATTENTION TO TYLER, everything he is doing is COMPLETELY NORMAL to you! You and I are here to discuss your NEW POSITION at the company!” There it was again, that feeling, my brain feeling fuzzy as his words entered the air, the black box in front of us lights started to glow pink as he spoke. My head turned to face Tyler one last time before going back to Ben. Nothing he was doing was odd. Why had I thought that, he always made that face looking at me, he was always doing something with his hands under the table or desk. 

I had to be losing my mind to think differently. I mean Tyler could rarely keep his hands OFF his lap. His slim biceps still straining the sleeves of his button down as he toyed with something below. If I didn't know any better I think he was Palming his bulge but that's crazy talk. I turned away from him, I wasn't here to pay attention to Tyler, I was here for Ben. When I turned back to him the light on the box went back to white, ambiently glowing. I heard the buff nerd whisper under his breath, ‘yes money well spent’. Whatever. I was more worried about what he just said to me! I was here to talk about a new position, I guess that made sense?

“New position? What are you talking about, and wh6 are you telling me Ben shouldn't it be Rebecca. We're basically the same level.” I was intrigued about the prospect, maybe it came with a raise. But it was just not adding up, why the fuck would Ben tell me and why had our boss left as soon as I got here.

“Oh shoot, guess you missed that meeting while you were gone too, the company is going through some restructuring. Some voting, some CHANGES.” He starts saying, getting up out of his chair. I watch the fiber of his clothing literally stain, begging for life as he does. Walking behind me till his arms are on his shoulders. The way he said changes made my skin light up, goosebumps forming up and down my arms. That same pink light lights up again.

“Rebecca put me in charge before stepping down to take my old position and Stella is on fully paid administrative leave with the rest of the other women on staff until further notice. But the rest of the staff voted during the reconstruction on what your NEW ROLE would be!” his hands started massaging my shoulders, kneading them. It wasn't to comfort, no this felt like a show of force, of control. I pull myself forward, away from his grasp. The machine lights up pink again, following his voice.

“I don't get what you're saying? What the fuck is going on, new position, voting. I don't think….” but before I can continue or stand up his hands push down on my shoulders holding me in place. He lets out this long exhausted sigh before a bellowing laugh that fills the room. I hear Tyler do the same but he feels quieter, more distant. Hard to focus on.

“That's right, YOU DON'T THINK,  your old job was too hard for your STUPID, SILLY, SMALL BRAIN. Your new one is much more suited for you.” The light on that black box BURNS PINK and as it does my brain starts to fog up. It's like my mind fills with molasses, thoughts become harder to navigate and figure out. Bigger, more complex words are harder to find.  Ben's hands drift down my back, going even lower.

“What no.. that's not right, I was the head of marketing and advertising i think good. I got a degree and graduated sum- something cum laté!” I argue but it's all getting fuzzy. Ben just laughs at me, making me pout. I see Tyler get up and go to the other side of me, his hand coming up to caress my face.

“Oh please, that WALL DECORATION of a degree was barely earned. You were TOO BUSY BUILDING THOSE SLUTTY MUSCLES to go to class, much less make those football practices.” The light gets brighter, my mind and body start to burn with that same intensity. Memories of all nighters studying, of essays and tests being passed get shredded. Graduating top of my class becomes a fever dream as I barely remember showing up to any of my classes. The praise I got for being a star athlete and star student turn to ash as it gets replaced with the gym. 

This HEAT that won't let me go, coursing through my veins I feel my suit grow tighter, taut as my body flexes. Memories of the gym flooding in faster, and faster, my vanity,  arrogance increasing as what was for sports, health becomes purely for glamor, attraction. My once perfectly proportioned body contorts, distorting as Ben and Tyler's hands start roaming my body. That word SLUTTY ringing more in my head, my crotch twitching at that idea. The idea of being viewed as sexy, women fawning over my appearance sounding better and better as my cock gets fully hard, my proud six inches leaking in my boxers. I try to speak, to get some words out and respond, ask them what is going but all that comes out are moans and groans

“That's it, feel how good it feels to NOT THINK. To let your COCK THINK FOR YOU. YOUR JUST A DUMB HORNY SLUT, THE OFFICE SLUT! NO MORE CLOTHES HIDING THAT BODY!” Ben says his mouth right against my ear as he and Tyler continue to touch me. Those words rang in the air, The fabric of my clothes the first to go, melting away leaving me in a panic. My cock spurting more precum, oozing more and more of my intelligence out and staining the chair underneath me. It is so hot to just let my cock do the thinking for me, to be the office slut, be used and abused by everyone in the office, to feel all the women, all the MEN… FUCK NO I’M NOT GAY… DUMB HORNY LIL OFFICE SLUT… no this isn’t real I’m not… not a slut, not no, I’m dumb but not a slut. But a slut gets to fuck and pound holes. You want to pile drive your coworkers right?? Imagine bending Tyler and Ben over the desk.. No not men, i’m not gay…THINK STELLA.. THINK.. Fuck, can’t think. With all my strength I pull myself forward to try and get away from them, their grasp and stand up.

“Fuck, fuck this faggy bullshit, what are you.. You doin to me Be..” but before I can finish Tyler is grabbing me by the chest, pulling me back into the chair. His fingers digging in like my flesh and muscle were made of clay, kneading my pectorals into firm slabs of muscle. These pillowey pecs look like they’d be better on a chick then a stud like me. All of my nerve endings, especially around my nipples LIGHT UP becoming incredibly sensitive. Ben’s hands make my shoulders broader before they go down my arms. My Biceps flexing involuntarily as they bulge, becoming boulders as veins pop and move down and along my triceps. My hands become oversize masculine mitts that can grope, grab and please anything and everything I touch. I feel their hands on my torso going down, the fat melting from my frame as abs cobble their way down.

“No faggy shit, but TED you are the BIGGEST FAG HERE! Infact, your such a fag you BEG EVERY MAN in this office TO BREED YOUR SLUTTY HOLES, to POUND THIS ASS ROUGH AND HARD, SPANKING AND SPANKING YOUR GIANT BUBBLE BUTT OVER AND OVER AGAIN!”  Ben says all of this as he pushes me up from the chair, my hands grabbing the table to steady myself as I had become too top heavy and disoriented. My eyes staring right at the glowing, NOW FULLY PINK BOX, as the words slam into me. I was a fag? A fag? A FAG? But that doesn’t make any sense.. I had a wife and kids. But I felt this itch, this deep ITCH in my throat, in my ass. This never ending empty feeling in both my holes that I HAD TO FILL.. That wasn’t being faggy, that was just feeling empty, yeah just… JUST Ooo.

I can’t stop myself from wiggling my ass for them, presenting it like a good slut, there wasn’t much there just my tone and tight rear. But it was still beautiful a small bubblebutt that could be enjoyed by anyone who looked at it. I had never done anything…. Anything? Had I, I can’t remember… What is up with MY AHHHH!!!

Tyler brings both his hands down to grab and grope my cheeks, at first spanking both before his fingers dig in.. My once tight and trim ass starts inflating like they were a pair of deflated beachballs. Creating this shelf on my lower back that looks comical, if I try to move at all they wobble and jiggle, hell just breathing makes them move. My thighs are forced apart as they follow suit growing to be thunder thighs. My calves grow and cut to be perfect diamond shapes. This was incredibly stupid and crazy, how could they just change me like… change me? Nothing's changed?  No things have changed, I worked my body out…. FOR DUMB SLUTTY MUSCLES…. No to be trim… WAIST TRIM FOR MEN.. ALL FOR MEN… NEED TO BE USED… NEED TO BRED.. I feel Tyler and Ben’s hands leave me and I start to whimper and look around, biting my lip.

“Boss. Boss… I'm… what's my role… no my role.. My role is..” Fuck my brain was on fire. All my memories, of fucking chicks, my wife, our kids. Hell, cheating on her was like bubbles popping in my mind. Each one breaking, disappearing and in their place an endless stream of men, of cocks, their asses, their lips. Strong masculine hands groping and feeling me up. Nights of chasing after women, buying them drinks Tyler and Ben bending me over this chair Tylers cock skull fucking me and Ben taking full control of my ass. Spreading them apart and slowly, forcefully thrusting in, the head of his cock, the tip pushing past my prostate, smashing it. Making me cum my brains out, everything they had done and changed becoming permanent as I shot load after load of my past life out of my cock. That pink burning light fills the void. God no, no please not permanent! I couldn’t let them fuck me, I couldn’t cum. But i wanted them to fuck me, i needed them to fuck me, i needed to CUM. 

The PINK BOX was now pure light. I couldn't even look at it anymore, whatever effect it had going on was constant now. Every touch, every word every phrase was like them sculpting and reshaping me and my body! I was just a material, a thing to be used and manipulated for other people’s pleasure. I liked that, i loved that!

“Oh you're so STUPID you already FORGOT, its been your role the whole time its OFFICE CUMDUMP! Tyler I think he needs another load he’s getting ditzy again!” Ben says pulling the chair further from the desk moving my body to be over it. I can’t believe I forgot that I was the office’s cumdump? That's crazy right, I’m so stupid sometimes, such a dumb fagggot. God I needed loads, I needed cum deep in me, deep in my faggy holes. Ben pushes me down over the arms of the chair while Tyler moves in front of me, his pants barely containing a MASSIVE BULGE. A wet pre-stain clearing showing up on his dark grey slacks. My mouth waters just thinking about it leaking down my throat, trying to milk his girthy, long member till he busts all the way down my throat. Its all I was good for, taking load after load, it kept all the company employees happy here. I just went around in tight fitting (if any) clothes, no office, and let myself be used and abused like the perfect little cum dumpster.

“No, I think we should let him get to work, he’s already behind schedule and he has an entire office to service today!” Tyler says putting his hands on the side of my head, gently rubbing behind my ears like I was a good dog or something. God I’d love to be his dog, his pet!! It be perfect to whine, beg and whimper for his cock, licking at it like it was the tastiest bone.

“Fuck his mouth is watering Ben, you really fagged macho Ted out! Come on Fag have a taste!” Tyler unzips his pants and his dick, no, his glorious, nine inch thick cock SLAPS ME across the face, precum smearing across my cheeks and lips. I can’t help but lick them clean before chasing after it. My mouth diving onto his cock, god he was my… why did I think he was first cock for a second, I’m the office cum dump I have had so many. I have to, it's required. 

My lips glide down his cock, his hands are firmly over my ears now, muffled voices talking about my lips should be plumper, bigger, my tongue longer. That same HEAT, that same pulse that raked across my body fills my lips as I start bobbing up and down this delicious cock, plumping them up to be perfect pouty DSL’s. My tongue grows longer and wider, its tastes buds lighting up as it gets its first taste of Tyler's THICK DICK’S precum leaking like a faucet down my throat.. I’m so hungry, so empty I need his cock and load down my throat asap. Tylers hands stop me at one point, not letting me dive all the way down to the root of his dick. He slowly, painstakingly pulls his cock till just the head is sitting between my lips, his shaft covered in my spit before HE THRUSTS ALL THE WAY IN. Sheathing his cock down my throat. Rapidly skull fucking me. His balls slapped against my chin and neck over and over again.

Ben goes right behind me, mentioning something about a self lubing hole. It makes me shudder, my hole winking, this PULSING feeling making me wet as he pulls my cheeks apart. His index finger EASILY pushing its way into my whole making me whimper and moan around Tyler's cock. Throat vibrating as I’m skull fucked and teased with. Feeling satisfied with that he quickly plops his finger out, pulling down his pants and hotdogging my cheeks with the biggest cock I have ever felt. I couldn’t see it, but the way it pushed apart and kept my cheeks separate I knew it was almost a foot long. He was slowly grinding against me, the motion so different and distinct from Tyler’s rapid thrusting. His hands gripping my hips, so strong, so powerful, SO CONTROLLING. I tried to find a way to thrust back into him, to get his cock to fuck my virg- I’m not a virgin I’m the Office’s Cumdump. A slutty Faggot, my hole is always begging and needing cock.

When he finally does thrust into me, it’s just like my vision, so slow, so forceful, gliding inch by inch into me. My moans getting louder, more frequent, making Tyler howl as my throat keeps vibrating. My cock is rock hard, leaking as I’m being overwhelmed with pleasure. When he finally bottoms out in me I think I have a moment to adjust, his giant girthy fuckstick feels bigger than my own personhood, but he starts to pull out until it's just the tip and then he RAMS ALL THE WAY BACK IN. My vision going white as he doesn’t just squish or push against my prostate it feels like he DESTROYS IT, sending signal after signal of pleasure to my brain to let go, to cum. That i should cum, that i need to cum, but a smaller, getting quieter voice begs me not to an I try to listen. My cheeks bouncing up and down, jiggling as he pounds my hole with no mercy.

Ben’s hand snakes away from my waist as both men keep savagely railing me. Slowly finding its way to my cock his hand wrapping around, grasping it. My eyes were already lidded, this was getting me so close. Fuck fuck fuck. The weight of his body presses down against my back as he nips at my neck talking about how good office cum dumps have big loads, how good office cum dumps have massive cocks, how good office cumdumps service their men in anyway they want and how good office cum dumps cum on command. I want to be a good office cum dump

It all happens so quickly, THE PULSES, the heat, his thrusts forcing my cock to fuck his hand, each thrust it grew an inch. Going from an above average six inches to an insane ten inches. I can feel myself getting closer, I can tell they both are close, they just need me to accept it, to give in, to give up and then I get cum and more cum, All that matters is the cum. So when he yanks my head away from Tyler’s throbbing dick I say it gladly a smile on my face

“I WANT TO BE A GOOD OFFICE CUM DUMP!” Tyler’s cock rains down on me, load after load shooting across my face, his moans and groans are joined by Ben who starts to fill my hole. Four no five loads flood my guts, his cock the only thing stopping it all from rushing out of my hole. My own orgasm follows and all i can think is I’m so happy to be back at work servicing the men and company at large.

_____________________

Emergency commission slots open!! Feel free to reach out in dms, i was like so close to not being behind on shit and now here we are XD! Dms open

[raxero-malemetamorph]

Training Together

The air in the gym locker room was thick with the scent of old iron, eucalyptus, and the lingering humidity of the showers. Peter sat on the bench and examined his thin muscles. He was lanky, his ribs visible with every breath, and his pale arms looked like little more than kindling.

“No girl is ever going to want this,” he muttered to himself, a familiar bitterness rising in his throat. He felt invisible, a ghost in a temple of stone-carved bodies.

From the corner of the room, John watched. John was a powerhouse—a muscular bear in his prime, with a salt-and-pepper beard and muscles that seemed to strain against the very atmosphere. He didn’t just occupy space; he commanded it. He saw the boy’s despair and felt a pull of protective, primal interest.

John stepped forward, his heavy footsteps echoing on the tile. "You're looking at yourself all wrong, kid," John said, his voice a low rumble. "You’ve got the frame. You just need the right… motivation."

Peter looked up, startled. "I've tried everything. Nothing sticks."

John smiled, a knowing, slightly mischievous glint in his eyes. "Tell you what. Let’s train together today. I’ll show you a shortcut to the kind of power you're looking for."

Desperate and captivated by the older man's confidence, Peter nodded. "Okay. I'm in."

John stepped close to Peter. The heat radiating off his massive chest making Peter’s heart race.

John snapped his fingers.

The snap of John’s fingers didn't just echo; it vibrated through the marrow of Peter’s bones. A sudden, electric hum, cold as ice and bright as a summer sky, started at his toes and raced upward.

Peter looked down in terror as his skin began to ripple. It didn't just change color; it changed nature. The smooth, pale flesh of his thighs began to knit together, the cells tightening and flattening into a dense, high-quality blue cotton.

“What’s happening to me?” Peter tried to scream, but the sound died in a throat that was no longer made of muscle and bone. His jaw tightened, the skin of his lips rolling inward and hardening into a thick, stitched hem. His voice, once a frantic plea, was now nothing more than the muffled rustle of cloth.

His legs were merging, his knees softening and losing their structure as they were pulled upward into a singular, shifting mass of fabric.

The sensation was dizzying. His consciousness didn't vanish; it folded. He felt his spine liquefy, his height collapsing as if he were a skyscraper being sucked into the earth. His arms, once lanky and weak, were drawn into his torso, their substance recycled into the wide, heavy-duty elastic of a waistband. He felt the stretch and the tension—the strength he had always craved was finally there, but it was the strength of industrial-grade fiber, designed to hold and support.

Within seconds, the air where a young man had sat was empty, save for a swirl of fading blue sparks. Where Peter’s heart had beaten, there was now only the soft, breathable pouch of a blue jockstrap, lying limp on the locker room floor.

John chuckled, reaching down to pick them up. The fabric felt soft yet durable in his large hands. "This is the kind of 'joint training' you weren't expecting, isn't it, kid?" John whispered to the garment. "Don't worry. You're going to feel every bit of the work we're about to put in."

John got off his shorts and put the jockstraps on. The elastic snapping snugly against his powerful thighs. He pulled his gym shorts back over and headed to the main floor.

The workout was brutal. John attacked the barbell, pressing massive weights over his head. Inside the shorts, Peter—now the very fabric supporting John’s movements—felt everything. He felt the tremendous heat of John’s skin, the rhythmic tension of his glutes, and the sheer, raw power of a master at work.

As John began to sweat, the blue cotton began to dampen. Peter felt himself soaking up the essence of the man. It wasn't just moisture; it was the pheromones, the testosterone, and the very spirit of John’s masculinity. Peter’s consciousness, trapped in the weave, drank it in greedily. He wasn't just a witness; he was becoming a part of that strength. The feeling was intoxicating—a primal, heavy intimacy he had never imagined.

After his training and a shower, John stood back in the locker room alone. He was wrapped in a white towel, the damp jockstraps held in his hand. He looked down at them with a smirk and placed them gently on the floor tiles.

John snapped his fingers once more.

Magic swirled in a mist of fading blue light. The jockstraps surged upward, expanding like a localized storm. The damp fabric unraveled and was stretching upward into a solid, human form. Peter didn't just feel like he was standing again; he felt like he was occupying space for the very first time with a physical weight and density he’d never known. The lanky, fragile boy was gone, erased by the magic and replaced by a thick, powerful man that felt heavy, grounded, and undeniably masculine.

His shoulders had exploded outward, rounding into massive, boulder-like caps of solid muscle. Where there had once been sharp collarbones, there was now a thick, powerful neck that merged seamlessly into a chest of staggering proportions. His pectorals were dense and square, like twin slabs of granite, divided by a deep, rugged valley that Peter couldn't help but stare at in disbelief.

The texture of his new skin felt remarkable. A lush, masculine dusting of dark hair now climbed up his belly and swirled across his chest—a soft, coarse pelt that marked his transition into a true bear cub. It felt electric under his touch, especially as he ran his fingers down to his midsection. His waist had thickened with core strength, and where there was once a soft, concave belly, there were now washboard abs—six perfectly sculpted ridges of muscle that felt as solid as the iron John had just been lifting.

Peter lifted his hands, turning them over slowly. His fingers were thicker, his palms wider, and his forearms were now ropy with veins and dense muscle. He felt a strange, humming heat radiating from his own core, as if the essence he had absorbed from John’s workout had permanently fused with his DNA. He wasn't just "fit"; he was substantial.

Looking at himself, Peter let out a breath he felt he’d been holding for years, his lips curling into a wide, confident smile. As the last of the blue sparks faded from his groin, Peter saw a new, heavy weight between his thick, hairy thighs. The magic had been thorough; his manhood had transformed alongside his muscles, now hanging heavy, thick, and beautifully developed. It was a proud, masculine centerpiece that perfectly matched his new physique, a potent testament to the raw essence he had absorbed from John during their intense workout.

"Look at you," John said, his voice full of pride as he reached out and gripped Peter’s newly bulging bicep.

Peter turned to John, he realized the transformation went deeper than his skin.

"The muscles are... amazing," Peter whispered, his voice deeper, more resonant.

"They suit you," John replied, stepping closer. "But you took more than just my strength from that workout, didn't you?"

Peter felt it then. The memory of being pressed against John, the scent of his sweat, and the rhythm of his power had rewired him. The thoughts of "girls" that had plagued him earlier felt like a distant, faded dream. His eyes locked onto John’s—the silver in his beard, the kindness in his gaze, the sheer animal magnetism.

He didn't just want to be like John; he wanted John. A new, undeniable hunger filled his mind. Peter reached out, his hand resting on John's bare, damp shoulder. Without a word, the distance between them vanished. In the quiet, steam-filled locker room, the two men shared a deep, romantic kiss—a seal on a bond forged in magic and iron.

[misctf]

Cocky straight guy becomes a twink trophy boyfriend

He spots her across the living room before anyone else really registers she’s arrived. New face, effortless confidence—his kind of challenge. He takes a second, smooths his shirt, then crosses the room like he already knows how this ends.

“Hey,” he says, easy smile, leaning just enough to feel close without crowding. “You look like you’re deciding whether this party’s worth staying at.”

She glances at him, amused but unreadable.

“I was,” she says. “Still am.”

He chuckles, unfazed. “Give me five minutes. I’ll make it worth it.”

She tilts her head. “You always open like that?”

“Only when I’m right.”

“Confident.”

“Usually rewarded for it.”

“Usually,” she echoes.

He grins, holding eye contact. “Stick around. You’ll see.”

She doesn’t answer. Just watches him, an amused smirk forming on her face. Jake returns the smirk- god she was hot. He couldn't wait to make her...

“Not my type.”

That actually lands. Jake blinks, thrown off, but only for a second. His smile returns quick, “Alright, maybe I started off wrong. Name’s Jake.”

“Lena.”

“So what is your type?”

Her eyes travel over him, slower this time. “Bulky guys aren’t really my thing.”

Jake scoffs, rolling his shoulders. “How can you not be into muscles?”

He flexes his arm, showing off muscle that no woman could resist. Only the peak isn’t as full, the sleeve of his shirt hanging just a bit looser than it did a minute ago. He catches it, but maintains the smile. Figures the lighting is off.

She looks at him, unimpressed, “I said what I said.”

He smirks, leaning closer. “I’m more than just muscle, you know.”

“Mhmm... Doubt that.”

"Yeah?” he smirks, "Give me a chance and I'll prove you wrong." He readjusts his shirt, barely registering how it no longer clings tightly to his chest.

“I'm good." She shrugs, "All that body hair isn't winning you any prizes with me."

Jake huffs a laugh. “What? C’mon! That’s what makes me a real man.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah,” he says, glancing down as he casually drags his thumb along his forearm- then pauses.

The dark hair there looks… lighter. Thinner. He rubs again against increasingly smoother skin.

“That's... that doesn't make sense.” he mutters, forcing a grin, though his fingers linger.

His other hand comes up, brushing his jaw. He paused. His usual rough stubble is... gone. Like he just shaved. His confidence flickers and he feels a cold shiver run through him as his chest prickles under his shirt.

Jake straightens abruptly. “Woah that's not...” Lena is smiling, a predatory look in her eye, "I... wait here, I'll be right back" He chuckles, nervously- mind racing. He needed a mirror. Just to check. To confirm.

He takes a half step back. Lena leans in just slightly, smiling.

“No, stay,” Her voice lifts. “I’m enjoying our little conversation.” She runs a hand along his smooth jaw, "Please." Jake feels his heart flutter, "Just relax, tough guy."

Jake grunts as the tension drains out of him. He should be on edge. He was on edge. But he feels his posture soften, weight shifting onto one leg, hips angling slightly without permission. His stance opens up. Less guarded, more… inviting.

“Wh-what?”

His lower back arches subtly as he shifts. His stance now blatantly emphasizing his ass. Jake stiffens at that, registering just how exactly he looked standing there.

“No way...” he mutters, trying and failing to address his stance, "I look so..."

He tries to square himself again. To stand with the same commanding presence he usually did. But the adjustment slips, settling back into that same relaxed pose. His ass jutting out, begging for attention.

“You did ask me what my type was." Jake's eyes widen as he realizes he's standing at eye level with Lena now, "But it's so much more than the physical. I like guys who know how to be vulnerable."

Jake swallows, “I mean... yeah, I can be vulnerable,” he says, but it comes out softer, less certain. His shoulders pull in as he talks, frame narrowing further, “It’s just, like... I don’t usually say this stuff out loud, I just kinda… push it down, you know? Be a man about it...” He freezes, “Why am I saying this?” His voice jumps... higher. Whinier.

Lena smiles, "It's okay to open up, Jake."

Jake’s hand flies to his throat. “Okay, no... like why does my voice sound like this? This's not... like, not my voice.” It spikes again, edging toward a whine.

"Jake?" He recognizes that voice, "Dude, what the fuck?"

“Brett!” Jake blurts, cringing at the pitch of his voice, but relief floods in anyway. “Oh my god... thank god you noticed! Something’s like… totally wrong!”

Brett steps in close, brow furrowed. “What happened to you, man?”

“I don’t know!” Jake says quickly, voice light and uneven. “She just, like... started saying stuff and now I’m...”

A sharp snap. Brett goes still. His expression melts, eyes half-lidded, mouth slack. Drool dripping from the corner of his mouth.

Jake stares, “What? Brett?”

He grabs Brett’s arm instinctively and pauses. His fingers press into Brett’s bicep, lingering a second too long. There’s a flicker of something... appreciation?

Jake jerks his hand back and spins towards Lena, “Like, what did you do to him?!”

Lena barely glances at Brett. “Don’t worry about him,” she says smoothly. “Focus on something more fun. Like gossip… or cute guys.”

Jake tries to hold onto his panic, but her voice threads through it, steady and impossible to ignore. His thoughts begin to blur at the edges, like something is quietly wiping them clean, and before he can latch onto what he’s losing, new ones slip in—lighter, easier, strangely compelling. He finds himself wondering who’s attractive, who gets attention, who deserves it.

Behind him, Lena leans toward Brett, whispering into his ear. Jake turns without meaning to... and this time, he really looks. The line of Brett’s arms, the way his shirt fits across his chest, the way his slacked jaw and dim eyes look.

“Oh wow.” Jake’s breath slows and he licks his lips.

He'd seen Brett in the locker room after games. Knew what he was packing. He never thought much about that. But now? God... he wanted it now. He wanted Brett.

“Now you’re more my type,” Lena looks over Jake carefully, satisfied. “But I doubt I’m yours.”

Jake blinks, still looking at Brett, something warm and fluttery settling in his chest. He lets out a soft, airy laugh, barely even thinking about it.

“Yeah, I mean… like… no offense, but… yeah.” He winces slightly at how natural that felt.

Lena smiles. “So tell me... what is your type?”

Jake doesn’t hesitate this time. He glances back at Brett, eyes lingering, a small, giddy smile slipping through. “I mean… Brett,” he says, almost giggling. “Obviously.”

"He's kinda cute."

“Kinda? Bitch, he's hot." Jake can't believe the words leaving his mouth, but they don't stop, "So like... we're..."

"Besties." Lena grins, "I needed a new gay bestie anyway." She looks over at Brett and snaps her fingers, "And what are besties for?"

Brett's face contorts and settles. The dull look in his eyes shifting as he looks over Jake. Replaced by something hungrier. Jake watches as Brett steps closer, slow, deliberate. His eyes stay locked on Jake.

“Hey,” he says quietly, voice lower than Jake remembers. “You look… different.”

Jake giggles, “Different good, right?”

Brett’s hand comes up, hesitating just a second before brushing along Jake’s waist. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Really good.”

Jake inhales sharply, but he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he leans, eyes flicking up through his lashes.

“Wow, okay…” he says, half-giggling. “You’re, like, being really forward right now.”

Brett smirks faintly, closing the space between them. “You don’t seem to mind.”

Jake bites his lip, heat rushing to his face. “I mean… I don't.”

“My room’s just upstairs,” Brett murmurs, leaning in slightly. “You wanna check it out?”

Jake lets out a soft, breathy laugh, glancing back at Lena for half a second before looking up at Brett again. “I mean… yeah,” he says, voice light and a little giddy, fingers brushing Brett’s arm. “Lead the way.”

Lena watches for a beat, satisfied, “Have fun, you two!”

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

Jake moans loudly as Brett slams into him from behind. He arches his back, pushing his fat ass further along Brett's length. His own cock, smaller than he remembered it being, throbbing uselessly. But he doesn't care. Not when he can feel Brett balls deep inside him.

"Fuck yes," Jake gasps out, hands fisting in the sheets beneath him. "Harder, Brett. Fuck me harder." Brett grunts, gripping Jake's hips as he picks up the pace, "Oh fuck!"

Jake couldn't help but cry out in ecstasy each time Brett bottomed out. The same kinda sounds he imagined Lena making if the night had gone differently. But now? His world was narrowing, focused only on the feeling of the dick pounding into his thicc, juicy ass. Because for Jake, nothing else mattered in this moment - not his pride, not his former identity. And it never would again.

[maningup]

Neighborly Things

#1 Be Kind

Mr. Cook was always of the belief that neighbors should help each other out. So when he was working on his house that afternoon and Manuel Ramirez came out to complain about the noise, the older man was stunned. Apparently, the young man was doing something called ‘streaming’ and the machines were too loud. Now the older man had no idea how all that streaming nonsense worked, but Ramirez had a point: the noise had been happening for a while. Mr. Cook had to face facts, he wasn’t the young buck he used to be. A simple job was harder to accomplish with one man. But Manuel on the other hand? There was potential there.

“I agree with ya, neighbor. Can’t move like I used to. Why don’t you help me out?” Mr. Cook stated, rubbing the back of his neck, defeated.

“Wha?” Manuel barely got out as a nailing gun was shoved into his hands. He stumbled back, almost falling over before slamming a solid foot down. The teen’s body rumbled. Then the growth started. He was taller in minutes and his body came in perfect; two heavy pecs with six abs situated under it. Luckily the clothes on his lower body stayed. Mr. Cook wasn’t sure what he’d have done if his neighbor ended up naked.

Manuel matured into the exact type of man Mr. Cook needed for this project. The man got straight to work without even being asked. Mr. Cook laughed as the new man was about to make some real money in the home improvement department around the block…and possibly ruin some marriages. It made Mr. Cook think back to his younger days, wooing the rich married couples was half the fun.

–

#2 Don’t Trespass

Mr. Cook hadn’t even gotten his pool together. His fence was up. But there was still so much more work to be done on his house. Sadly, Manuel had too many other projects around town to do. Never even talked about that ‘streaming’ stuff anymore. Mr. Cook felt good he had helped clear the young man of that stress. But now Mr. Cook had a stressor. He’d seen it on the Neighborhood app: boys around town were stealing rocks from his backyard to place in other people’s lawn. Some real suburban entertainment foolishness right there.

These weren’t regular rocks, they were decorative pieces for his pool, but did the boys care? No. Which Mr. Cook was flabbergasted by. They were neighbors. Okay, maybe not direct neighbors, but it was all one neighborhood. One division of town that separated them from the rest. If they didn't have each other's backs, who would? Then the solution came to him. A way for the young men bored out of their minds to find meaning.

The next time someone tried to steal his rocks, Mr. Cook was in the kitchen making a sandwich. He heard the grunting first, then clothes tearing. He cleaned his hands, stepping outside. A smile was on his face. Not just one neighborhood hooligan, but two, attempting to steal his rocks. Unlike Manuel, their clothes came straight off. Their bodies bulked rapidly as if they had been starving for it . Mr. Cook shook his head as two men rolled on the ground stroking their dicks. Thankfully, his fence was up. When they were done covering each other in white glaze, he handed them tool belts, two new employees.

“Where would you like these to go Mr. Cook?” Rick would ask, while John held a wheelbarrow full of rocks that had to be moved.

Mr. Cook gave a silent approval to the toned bodies under his command. He appreciated their subconscious-fueled growth that made their natural outfits be their birthday suits. What was better than watching the male form in its most purest state at work? Very nice of his neighbors to take on his house as a project. At night, fully-clothed they made for pretty good watch dogs to deter future rocks from being stolen.

–

# 3 Do Favors

When a neighbor asks for help, it's only right to help. Mr. Cook believed it deeply and boy, did he need help. His last two workers were killing it outside, but they were very unskilled at indoor labor (i.e. panting a house.) He couldn’t quite reach up without his back killing him. He had ordered a pizza and wouldn’t you know it, Francisco from down the street was the pizza boy. He was trying to make some money before college. Well, Mr. Cook had a better offer. He took the pizza and gave his neighbor a paint brush. The young man looked confused expecting a tip. Mr. Cook smiled, knowing Francisco was about to get something much better than a tip. Francsico’s body exploded with muscle on Mr. Cook’s porch. 

The older Francisco stepped inside. He lost his shirt but had on a nice pair of sweatpants. He walked up the steps already knowing where to go. Mr. Cook followed behind, ignoring the ass practically clapping in his face. Two pillows forced inside a thin layer.  Francisco got to work on the walls as his pants repeatedly fell down throughout the process, too small for his bubble butt.

Mr. Cooks rubbed his neck, “You know we’re inside, if it’s uncomfortable to keep those on. You should work with them off. Consider it a favor from me to you, just being neighborly by offering.”

–

# 4 Improve the View

It's all the neighbors responsibility to ensure their neighborhood stays beautified. Mr. Cook certainly took his part seriously. When he caught Paul McGill littering, he put a stop to it right there. The young man barely knew what hit him as the tool belt cinched around his waist. Muscles piled in, happily filling in his form. He rose inches up into the air as body broke free of his constraints. His balls sagged lower as his ass pushed out. His face re-adjust, hairline slightly receding, jaw squaring, as a mustache grew over his lip zipping right past the peach fuzz phase.

Now Mr. Cook could lay in his backyard on a lawn chair and see the view of the newest Mr. McGill’s ass when working. The best view, as the man had four kids and anyone could tell his body put in the work making them.

–

# 5 Just Because 

Mr. Cook always needed help around the house. Sometimes he didn’t even know what he needed help for. Honestly, he could admit it was his own damn fault for moving into a DIY suburban home. Huge property, so many projects. So, there were times the specific reason eluded even him. Then again, he liked being surrounded by barely clothed and nude men who reminded him of himself: hard workers.

The two new men he’d recently “hired” to work on his roof?

He couldn't even remember their names, maybe they had bumped into him, or said something weird. Regardless, the result was great, wasn’t it? Muscle tits out in the summer sun, buns being cooked by sunset. Mr. Cook was sure the two were making out whenever he wasn’t checking up on them. It was hard to be overly competent and attractive without getting another man turned on. Mr. Cook could relate. Even harder to spend days bending over, and squatting down, when neither men wore underwear.

Then when a baseball came through his window and landed surrounded by glass. Mr. Cook sighed after nearly having a heart attack. Lee Sung was at his door minutes later. Mr. Cook rolled his eyes, walking the boy in. The kid apologized but had no plans for how to fix the window. There were tons of men working on the house who could have fixed it easily, but to Mr. It was about the principle of the thing. Whoever breaks it should fix it. However, with the team he had at that point, that was flimsy reasoning even for him. His hand fell on Lee’s shoulder from behind as Mr. Cook reached into his pocket and placed a tape measure at the center of Lee’s chest. On impact a shock wave traveled through Lee as his body changed. A man had replaced the boy in seconds, his overall’s had ripped and not repaired itself, becoming the new style, while his shirt had been obliterated by his pecs and shoulders, making it obsolete. Mr. Cook looked over him, satisfied, before letting his newest employee get to work.

–

When Mr. Cook, with Manuel’s help, published his Five Neighborly Tips on his fence, people laughed thinking it was a joke, especially #5. What was ‘Just Because’?  At the neighborhood watch meeting he’d shared it was very serious. There were steps he believed they could all take to be a bit more thoughtful of each other. It was only fair to provide people with his expectations. After all, most would come to find he’d be the only one winning in the end when he practically had an entire worker’s commune walking into his house, disappearing until the night. 

People started to whisper about what really went on at Mr. Cook’s house. Yet when they heard a saw, drill, or leaf blower for hours it was hard to argue otherwise. However, despite how many men he added on, none of the projects ever seemed to get fixed. There were always more men, always more work to do. Eventually people get bored of trying to guess. The litany of workers would never stop, and it was just a fact of life.

Mr. Cook reached a point where he barely had to lift a finger or voice his opinion on a project. His men knew what he liked. Them shirtless, ass and cocks out if possible, and the job completed immaculately. The man sat lounging in a hammock underneath shade, as the men worked dutifully. His neighbor had understood the tips; he knew they would and if they ever didn’t there was always another spot waiting to be filled. 

[maningup]

Cap Drop

Hayden and I were chilling in his garage, about to play with his dad’s new pinball machine. The man was really precious about it so of course we HAD to give it a try. It was sort of our thing; he'd probably catch us, we’d get in trouble, but not really. The usual script. Honestly, I’m pretty sure Hayden’s dad even heard us going downstairs. 

We snuck into the garage just fine; Hayden flicked on the lights and shut the door to the rest of his house. As he walked over to me to congratulate us on another successful break in, a cap fell on his head. I looked up. There was nowhere it could have fallen from. A ceiling was over us. One minute it wasn’t there, then the next it was. Momentum had been applied to it too; the collision had a plop to it. Though it didn't get his head quite right as Hayden moved. The upper part of his face got covered by the bill of his cap.

Normally, I would have expected Hayden to make a joke or at the very least take it off, but when my attention returned to him, I realized he wasn't moving. Instead, he was sweating profusely and his body was growing. Hayden’s chest swelled out, and perky pink nipples pointed straight at me. His collar bone formed two distinguished lines on his upper body. As for his stomach it was diminishing itself as cobblestone abs took fat’s place. A V line formed right at his waist, that led to a jockstrap that also appeared on him. I’d seen the boxers he had on that day. Then there were his arms, veins just rose along the length of them feeding his shoulders and forearms. His traps stood stronger. Hayden’s hair flooded out under the cap. His typical short hairdo now had floof to it. He didn’t look like my best friend; he looked like an older jock version of my friend. The person standing in the garage with me could have passed for Hayden’s brother. I leaned down my body to see his face; a smirk greeted me.

“What are you staring at bro? See something you like?”

I had no idea what I was going to tell his dad when he ‘caught us’.

[occamstfs]

Epecdemic

The PMV Virus is here and no port is safe, all it takes is a stray thought and contact with a man and you'll join him in the thoughtless new world. Here are a few vignettes of men's lives in this changing world.

Four shorter selections on a theme. If you're interested in another pec-centric pandemic check out PurgatoryTF's Sick bro! Anyway hope you enjoy these stories, don't get too riled up ;) -Occam

It was a real stress test of the post-COVID pandemic response, one that has proven how faulty these new systems are. To be fair, truly no one could have predicted just how totally the Pectoralis Mentia Virus would wreak havoc upon society at every level. No one would have even thought the disease possible. First spotted in body building gyms and nightclubs, PMV-25 found its tinderbox with ease and rapidly blew beyond any hope of containment. The predominately female pathologists and virologists have yet to ascertain how the virus mutated into existence or spread with such absoluteness, but they have determined the trigger to its transformative side effects.

Surely rooted in some pheromonal or hormonal stimulation beyond man’s current understanding, when a man infected with PMV experiences biological attraction to another man- boom. His mind atrophies and his body grows into quite the top-heavy specimen. Some change in personality and form far more than others, but after the change all are adamant that they do not want to change back.

This makes research for a cure difficult. In lieu of continuing their research on the matter, many infected and transformed doctors and scientists are happy to offer their bodies up for further understanding of the contagion, but given the reluctance whenever the idea of a cure is presented researchers worry if they’re not angling to learn more of the virus themselves. 

At any rate, to combat misinformation running rampant, here are a few stories of Pectoralis Mentia Virus victims.

Blaine and Ryan

In the early days of the virus most didn’t even believe such a thing was possible. Sounding as if it were straight out of pulp science fiction, when various influencers first got word they were more than happy to spread fuel onto the fire and discourage their audiences from listening to the experts.

It should be no surprise that an information-starved Blaine was more than happy to keep up his new gym routine. His new podcasting icon says not to worry and worry he shall not. After all, even if the media isn’t bullshitting he ain’t even gay so there should be no problem. If he sees anyone ogling him he’ll just dip.

Quite the opposite, when Ryan heard of the pandemic he couldn’t wait to confirm the reality. Mouth dry from need and already visibly turned on by the idea, looking down at his body Ryan was already happy to trade some of his higher processing power for pecs.

When wannabe gym bro and needy twink collide it’s almost a textbook example of how PMV propagates. Arriving to the gym at the same time, when Blaine sees Ryan he frowns and loads up some vaguely homophobic retort, surely parroted directly from his favorite streamer, but when he sees the look in the twink's eyes he realizes that perhaps his icon might not know it all.

Ryan on the other hand thinks nothing when he sees Blaine, for he’s no longer able to think. Mouth immediately falling open, the twink is drooling as he feels the euphoria of mind melting growth filling every inch of his body. Quickly his thin chest bulges with soft pecs already sending tears into the baggy sweater he stumbled to the gym in.

Making eye contact with Ryan’s blank stare, Blaine tries to back away but it’s already far too late. Glancing down at the smaller man’s expanding body, no matter how firmly straight he identifies he can’t deny that Ryan’s getting hotter by the second.

When his own barely present pecs begin to throb and twitch, every apparently repressed shred of need flies free as he reaches out for Ryan. Growth coursing through his biceps as they rapidly grow to fill the pump cover he’s never needed, Blaine blankly smiles as he indulges in delight he’s never known.

Standing at the entrance to the gym, there’s no time at all before the pair of growing men start making out. Grinding into each other as more mass packs on by the second, any gym goers that miraculously escaped inflection so far turn to see them as their moans rival the sound of their clothing tearing off their bulking bodies.

Anyone present lucky enough to have escaped the transformation thus far rapidly begin their own journeys with PMV. Men on benches drop their weights as benches underneath them creak under their bodies surging larger.

Deep, throaty moans echo from every corner of the gym as every mind drains free of every impulse save to enjoy themselves, to experience what it is like to feel their new hot sweaty body rubbing against their fellow titan. And this gym is one hot spot of many. 

Standing at the entrance, at what may as well be their new posts, Ryan and Blaine while the hours away comparing their heavy chests and thick veiny arms. Not quite guarding the entrance so much as beckoning any men that happen past inside, alluring any unchanged men to give them a look.

Chase

While the pair standing outside a gym in between getting each other off on their own looks might have less than pure-hearted purpose for their posing and performative foreplay, Chase is on a whole other level. Their diminished intellect certainly had drastic effects on their personality, but Chase has truly become a new man outright.

Once a meek homebody, the quiet young man thought he could safely wait out a cure. Never much for going out, and already working from home, Chase is confident he can outlast the PMV lockdown. Sure they’ve got the top minds looking for a cure, he just kept his head down and waited for the day to come when all this is in the past.

And indeed, he never went stir crazy, unfortunately as time marched on this would be the least of his concerns. Months into the PMV pandemic he had ordered his weekly groceries to be delivered and forgetting himself for just a moment he goes to get the door as soon as they’re dropped off and comes face to face with a broad delivery man. 

Gasping as the man filling out his uniform stares down and grunts out, “oh… thought you wanted me to leave them at the door…” Before he can slam the door shut and turn around it’s already too late. The brute's pecs were at perfect eye-level with his head. 

He can feel his pulse rising as steadily as his cock as he starts breaking into a sweat. Ever deepening cries of no resound in his small apartment. Doing all he can to will his boner down, it’s clear his body is out of his control. Pins and needles fill his arms beginning to grow, already straining the button up he’s thrown on every day to find some sense of normalcy in this shut away world. 

Racing to his computer to find any way to stop the hormones and burning blood coursing through him, Chase moans as the placet of his shirt is already straining from new pecs demanding he rub them. Biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, seeing his changing reflection makes him lose whatever sense of control remained within him.

Falling to the floor he tears off his pants as the new muscle still twitching into existence makes light work of his top. Hips thrusting into the air is nothing compared to the unwilled transformation etching itself under his skin, but with every thump back onto the cold floor, he realizes just how good he feels.

By the time he finally blows his load into the open air his hands are rubbing every throbbing sweaty muscle they can reach. Thickening fingers curl into his bouncy new pecs and he laughs at how foolish he was to ever want anything else. But it’s not enough for him alone to feel this, he needs to spread.

Five minutes after the hapless delivery man ushered Chase into the growing class of PMV changed men, Chase realized his true life’s work. Few men have been nearly as widespread a vector as Chase. The second he leaves his apartment for the first time he begins his hunt to find the uninitiated and ensure that they discover just how good it feels to be like him. 

Luring men in with his heavy chest and brawny arms and sealing every deal with moves far more risque than a kiss, Chase’s activities in spreading PMV are untraceably large. He’s only stopped when he stumbles into a research center in search of some tail to bulk up.

Now kept under lock and key lest he be allowed to roam the streets infecting whatever few men have escaped PMV so far, he has offered himself up as the perfect specimen to study. Swearing even he doesn’t know how many men he’s changed, and longing for the chance to bring more men into the ecstasy change. Even the most puritanical scientists can’t deny how well he is suited to the task.

Sarvesh

In that very same lab was an unfortunate medical student who wanted more than anything to find some way to reverse the changes. His boyfriend had been at the club during the initial outbreak and more than anything Sarvesh wishes he can bring peace to the man he still loves. The man who does his best to convince Sarvesh that the world is easier if he were just to give in, the man who feels guilty that his lover is so burdened by his unchanged form.

But Sarvesh knows if he just keeps at it that he will somehow help find the cure. Champion of PPE, there is no world in which anyone would catch Sarvesh slipping before he’s able to deliver by hand a cure to the man who still messages him every night trying to convince him he’s better than well- Sarvesh certainly doesn’t mind the images attached. But every typo and mask off moment that proves his ex is thinking only with his dick makes it all the more clear he’s on the right path. 

The only male med student left in the training hospital, Sarvesh makes sure to stay far from the ward in which Chase is kept. Working day and night on his residency and doing more than he’s allowed to help with research, Sarvesh is in the room when a senior microbiologist announces her groundbreaking discovery.

They might have a cure. Worried about the red tape and human trials, she knows how dedicated Sarvesh is to getting this to market and the pair hatch their own beta test. Eager to be the first man immune to PMV, and sure the experience will be invaluable towards ensuring every man on Earth will be able to follow suit. Sarvesh and the doctor scheme to get the miracle cure tried and tested as soon as possible.

Exercising care and trying to avoid any complicating variables they secure an OR and bottle up the scent of Chase, knowing the method should more than suffice in triggering the change. Sarvesh injects himself with the solution and gives one last look to the doctor staring down at him with hope in her eyes. 

Contaminant in his hands, Sarvesh’s spine prickles knowing unsealing the bottle is the last thing in the world he should ever do. But this isn’t for him. Reaching for his phone, he pulls up a picture of his ex and uncaps the small bottle. Here goes nothing.

And indeed, to his notice, nothing happens.

Chase’s heavy musk fills his lungs, he’s staring at a picture sent to him with the sole purpose of getting him off and he’s barely hornier than usual. They’ve found a cure. Excited beyond measure he stares up at the doctor beaming only to find a grim expression on her face. Biting her lip she slams a button and the OR goes into lockdown.

The vial shatters on the floor and Sarvesh shouts up at the viewing platform, “What’s the problem!? It worked! It’s working!? It’s- uhn uh?” Only then does he look down to realize his cock is harder than he’s ever seen it. Gulping he realizes he still smells Chase’s musk. No, no that scent is coming from him. 

Lightheaded, the med student stumbles backwards as the head doc rushes away from him. He doesn’t understand, it should have worked. It should have worked. Privy to the data as he is, Sarvesh goes down the list of symptoms affecting him like a checklist. Already woozy he looks down to his chest to see the most predominant transformation well on its way. Scrubs quickly strain with a new chest, throbbing with every heartbeat as clearly as the still growing cock in his pants.

Struggling to remove his white coat before it tears he remembers the ceremony where he got it. Distracted, Sarvesh’s eyes glaze over as he loses himself in thought. Shoulders press into his seams and his back widens, he was there. He’s been dating him since undergrad, and now Sarvesh can see him again.

Biceps send tears down the entire length of the sleeves. Clenching the table and doing his best to maintain his mind, Sarvesh sees his brown skin peaking through clinical white. Flexing his hands and struggling to not cup pecs so thick he can see the nipples pressing through cotton, Sarvesh wonders if there’s something to be said about the intensity of changes related to how long it is before you change.

But then he wonders no more. That’s not his problem. His boyfriend was right, he’s always been right. This is better. Rutting against the operating table, Sarvesh clenches it with growing hands. Sweat trails down corded, veiny arms thicker than footballs. Finally he can reunite with him.

Phone pinging with a ‘u up?’ text, there’s a smirk on Sarvesh’s face as he contaminates the room with his seed. Thick steamy loads splatter through his scrubs and onto the floor that very well may never be sterile again. Looking at his reflection as stubble sneaks onto his face and changes ebb to their conclusion, he grabs his phone and prepares to text his lover back. At least there are silver linings.

At Sarvesh’s request his fuck-buddy once moe was brought into observation alongside him. Reunited at last, the pair have all they could ask for in the operating theatre where Sarvesh’s hope for a cure ended and his new life began. 

Scientists can hardly believe the tank of a man who’s lucky to say a three syllable word was once their pride pupil. But PMV makes brutes of us all. Now they just hope there’s some discovery to be gleaned from his bloodwork, though with each passing day it becomes clearer that there is no end in sight.

Jesse

It had been a year under the ever constant threat of PMV. Any man lucky enough to make it this far unchanged seems to be in it for the long haul, many kept explicitly safe by whatever powers that remain; their unchanged genetic information paramount to the pipe dream of a cure. 

One such soul was Jesse. Eroded beyond measure by every friend he ever had being corrupted into some depraved monster of their former selves, the once playboy had settled into his new sheltered abstinent life a shell of who he once was. 

Exercising just enough to not put on weight, the young man simply counts the days like a prisoner. Which by all accounts he is regardless of his cell being a remote penthouse where any needs are met. Looking out to the treeline he wonders how he’ll spend the day.

Mind flashing to the image of his best friend chatting at the bar with some chick. How he guffawed as he pawed at his neckline, chest distending into unwieldy pecs before he turned to the man sitting next to him. He remembers fleeing and not looking back.

Why him. 

In a different life he’d throw himself into sex, into work, but such things lost all meaning. Now he lives the monastic life he does. Sunbeams shine into his quiet suite and he turns away from the window. He’s just about to close his blinds but then his eyes follow a single beam as it breaks through the clouds and lands upon his forearm. 

Shading a vein ever so delicately, the thought trickles across his mind that his arm kinda looks like a dick. Laughable. Nothing. A stray thought, followed by another, equally meaningless. That’s kinda hot. And then his heart starts racing. 

Before a second passes he jumps up and rushes to find his phone, panting Jesse looks down at his chest unable to tell if it’s pounding with his panting or throbbing larger as he fears the impossible is happening. When pecs finally bulge onto his chest big enough to feel the sensation of his cock rubbing against his underwear begins to grow distracting.

This shouldn’t be happening, he did everything right! He hasn’t seen another man in months. Even on a screen, and yet when he breaks and looks down he sees pecs casting a shadow unto abs slowly carving into his thin torso.

Having broken free from his stupor by the worst occurring, when Jesse’s arms dangle lower and heavier from his sockets, hopelessness begins to overwhelm him. But then he takes a deep breath, and everything feels warmer.

Feeling the waistband of his underwear strain from his bulking waist and bigger bulge, like every other man before him Jesse begins to wonder why he ever wanted anything else. Switching gears to instead feel his growing muscle with abandon he hasn’t allowed himself in unthinkable time he chastises himself for not following his best friends suit all those months ago.

Falling onto the bed, Jesse rolls in the blankets and feels sensations more pleasurable than he can believe. Pre dripping onto the bedding, swirling in with sweat in drool, Jesse can hardly stand how intensely good it feels for his pecs to scratch against the bed. How his thicker nipples fill him with so much pleasure.

As he loses that hole that’s been burning with him, as he gains the mindless delight he never knew he was missing. So too does the world lose another one of its increasingly scarce control subjects.

It’s not long after his transformation do they notice Jesse’s absence, always one to check in promptly when he ghosts it’s clear what has happened. What they don’t know however is who changed him. 

Imagine their horror when they test some of the copious fluids left behind to find a mutated PMV, one that caused him to change himself. Having still made next to no progress on a cure, this is indisputable proof that the already unknowable virus is continuing to make leaps and bounds beyond their notice.

Driving back to the lab with Jesse’s samples, the few techs in the car feel more nervous than usual. On edge and antsy. If it has evolved to the point where it’s changing men with no further input, what if it’s finally able to spread to…

But no, that’s impossible. Driving the car, the field tech is sure that’s impossible. Checking the rearview though, she can’t ignore something suddenly darkening the head researcher's cheeks. Looks like her coat is straining on broader shoulders as well? Awfully preoccupied with something in the crotch region as well.

The driver’s voice cracks as she calls back, “Doc? You ALl- ugh, all good?” Something presses into her hand as she feels at her throat, hearing deepening moans filling the back of the van the tech starts to pull over before checking the rearview once more, this time checking her own appearance to find thicker eyebrows and sideburns etching their way down his- er her, no. His face. 

Before he can think to do anything else he too is distracted by new sensations issuing forth from his crotch. Turning back to the doc he finds his superior climbing over the seats to do what they’ve seen countless men do before them. If this is how it’s all to end, at least they should get to have some fun out of it themselves.

[hairybreedsbest]

You were deep inside your latest twink conquest, getting into a good rhythm, when he asked you to pull out. “Something feels weird, there’s a tingly feeling inside of me.” You smirked as you looked down at his body. You hadn’t cum in two weeks, and the potency of the built up load was apparent. His smooth body was already caving in to the traces of transformative semen in your precum. The hair on his butt and legs had come in moments after your first entered him. Now his hands and arms were developing as your DNA flowed through his bloodstream. Your cock twitched and your balls churned as you imagined what would happen to him once you give him a full dose of your built up load. The hair on his legs and arms would get thicker and longer, his smooth back would be gone in no time. Every inch of his body that could grow hair would be covered in a thick, dark pelt, while his hairline would start receding in response to the extreme testosterone level changing his body. “I think you just like having a hairy older man mount you with his big dick.” He laughed, “Yeah, but no older man made my butt feel like this before.” You lined up your cock with his newly hairy, twitching hole. You wrapped your powerful, hairy arm around his stomach, pleased to feel a thick happy trail running along his torso. You pushed in, his tight, warm hole welcoming you inside. As you pummeled him with your cock, you whispered in his ear, “My cock changes twinks like you into real men.” But he was too lost in ecstasy to register what you had said. Moments later you pushed all the way in, balls deep, your hairy sweaty chest covering his entire back, grunted loudly, and flooded him with shot after shot of sperm. After a full minute of ejaculating, your balls were finally empty. You couldn’t wait for morning to come to see what had become of this former twink.

[casanovaproject-deactivated2026]

FCA Leaked Email #284 (AE-1127 Incident)

Image of Teddy Fields (before incident with AE-1127)

—————————————————————————-

To: [REDACTED]

From: Dr. Elias Navarro

Date: [REDACTED]

Hey—

We’ve got a situation with AE-1127 (Yusuf Al-Zahir Al-Malik). Another one.

The new intern, Teddy, ignored protocol and went into Yusuf’s enclosure without ear protection while bringing in dinner. I don’t know if it was overconfidence or just stupidity, but either way, he didn’t have the earmuffs on.

Audio picked it up almost immediately. Yusuf got him. Started calling him his “ابن”, telling him he was a “good boy”. Fuckin’ hell man.

As soon as he said it, Teddy just exploded with brown muscle. The fucker just burst out of his hazmat suit, becoming this big hairy hulking Arab brute. His face distorting - his eyebrows becoming thick and bushy, his jaw hardening, his nose thickening. His hair grew thicker and darker, looks jet black now. Lost all his boyish blonde good looks in under a second. He’s hairy as hell now. Big fucking beard on him too.

And his body. He just burst out of his hazmat. His muscles inflating. He looked so scared and confused. The hazmat suit didn’t stand a chance. Went in a skinny blonde guy and came out a big heavy brown Arab brute. The poor fucker.

Image of Teddy Fields (after incident with AE-1127)

He doesn’t even look like Teddy anymore. Not even close. Just another one of Yusuf’s sons. Like the rest.

Mentally gone too. He calls AE-1127 “father” without hesitation. Is telling us that the bodega won’t survive without him. How somehow knows about the bodega.

Shame to lose such a bright guy.

We locked the enclosure as soon as it was clear he was past the point of no return. Left him in there with Yusuf—no safe way to pull him out at that stage without risking more exposure.

We’ve since moved him to Holding Cell B-17. Gave him some leftover clothes from Kyle - the only guy with clothes big enough to fit the brute.

He goes by “Tariq” now - Tariq ibn Yusuf Al-Zahir Al-Malik. Doesn’t respond to Teddy at all. No recognition, no confusion—just looks at us like we’ve got the wrong guy. Keeps asking when he can “see his father again.”

I’m going to be blunt here—this didn’t need to happen.

We keep bringing in interns, giving them a quick rundown, and then putting them near one of the more dangerous anomalies in the AE wing. There’s nothing unpredictable about AE-1127. The rule is simple: wear the damn ear protection.

And somehow that’s still too much.

We’re not losing people to complexity. We’re losing them to basic mistakes.

Go ahead and put up more intern listings. Maybe the next batch can follow a simple instruction.

—Navarro