Hyp Hyp Hurray @hyphyphurray - Tumblr Blog

It had been a quiet Christmas Eve for the two of us. We’d left the Christmas party early because Joey was feeling skittish, and couldn’t really deal with people. I loved my boyfriend, but sometimes his social anxiety was a real buzzkill. So, instead of a night of festive revelry, we were home by 8 and asleep by 9. Joey hadn’t said more than five words since we walked through the door. As I’d drifted off to sleep, I remember mumbling, “I wish I could give you some more confidence for Christmas.”

I awoke on the floor, confused. Why wasn’t I warm in bed, curled up under the blankets? I blinked and saw a tall, sexy man, dressed in leather from head to toe sitting on a chair next to our tree, looking down at me. He had a beard, and his hair was buzzed on the side, but he looked like a sexier, more confident, leather daddy version of-

“Well, Merry Christmas, sleepyhead,” he purred, in a low, seductive tone. He stood- Christ! He was almost as tall as the tree!

“I heard your wish last night,” the man said, towering over me. “And it looks like you got it.”

I was shocked.

“Joey-?!” I tried to yell, but it came out a kind of muffled bark. I tried again, but it came out a high whine.

The leather-clad man grinned as his boots clomped toward me. He reached down and placed a gloved hand on my head. It felt so good.

“And it looks like I got my wish too, boy,” he grinned. My dick grew hard. “After all, I asked Santa to bring me a new pup.”

**********************************

Merry Christmas, everyone.

misctf

A Haunting at His Homecoming

A bit of a longer one and the next addition of the "Haunting" series I'm doing for Halloween. Hope you enjoy!

"Good to be back." Adam smiled as he stepped out of the taxi, his military duffle bag slung over his shoulder, "Here's hopin' you're still in one piece."

After a grueling tour overseas, he was eager to return to some semblance of normalcy, although he had some anxiety about his return. After all, his fellow soldiers encouraged him to rent the place out while he was overseas- a good way to make some extra cash and keep his home "lived in." And his tenant, Mark, seemed like a good tenant. Just some harmless, nerdy college kid.

"Let's see the damage." Although Adam didn't expect much from his scrawny tenant.

The door swung open before Adam could even reach for his keys. Standing there were two figures- none of whom resembled the neat, studious Mark he remembered. Gone were the glasses and button-down shirts - replaced by dyed hair and an array of colorful tattoos covering every visible inch of skin. The pungent aroma of unwashed body odor and patchouli incense hit Adam immediately.

"Oh dude, welcome back!" The man greeted him with a lazy grin and a peace sign.

"Mark?" Adam raised an eyebrow. This guy had barely any resemblance to the man he met a few months ago.

"Actually man, I go by Micah now. Found my true self, ya know?" He explained with a carefree chuckle. "Oh dude, guess I should've moved out already." He sighed dreamily, "Jasper and I just got sooo caught up in our spiritual journey, and we needed a place to vibe."

"A place to vibe?" Adam questioned, eyebrow raised. The fuck was this guy talking about?

"We've had some deep conversations, discovered some profound truths," Micah said dreamily.

"Listen to me closely, Mark" Adam was in no mood for this free-spirited bullshit, "Your lease was up a week ago. You need to get out." He pushed past the stoner duo into his own house, taking in the clutter, the smell of weed, and the questionable stains on his furniture with growing horror, "Look at this place." He lamented, turning to face the duo, "I don't give a fuck about your 'spiritual journey' right now. You have 24 hours to get your shit out of here, understand?"

The young soldier's stomach turned as he imagined the monumental task ahead - scrubbing, airing out, maybe even replacing half the furniture.

"Brother Micah, who is this man standing in our sacred space?"

Adam turned, greeted by the sight of another tattooed man, his beard and hair scraggly. He radiated an aura of calm authority despite his disheveled appearance.

"And who the fuck are you?" Adam glared.

"I am Leif, the prophet of our Lord." he intoned, his voice smooth and hypnotic. "Welcome, brave warrior." His gaze raked over Adam appraisingly. "Brother Micah, who is this man?"

"Oh, this is Adam, Brother Leif! He, um…" Micah glanced nervously between the two men. "He owns this place. I was renting it from him before I found my true path, y'know?"

"Ahh, I see. Forgive me, Brother Adam, I was unaware of the living arrangement." He clasped his hands together, bowing slightly. "We needed a place. A temple for our enlightenment. Brother Micah here did not mention…"

Adam scoffed, crossing his arms. "Enlightenment? You trashed my fuckin' house, bro." He took a deep breath, "Mark, you got 24 hours, alright? And you two," He glared at Jasper and Leif, "get out. Now."

Leif smiled enigmatically. "Can you not feel it? The presence of our Glorious Spirit, yearning to guide us towards universal love and harmony?" Micah and Jasper nodded, their eyes conveying their blinded devotion.

"Nope. I can't feel jack shit except the desire for you freaks to vacate my property post-fuckin'-haste." Adam bit out.

"Peace, brother Adam. Together we will worship Him and his light." His voice dropped to a near whisper, "Soon, all shall kneel before His glory. Even you, Brother Adam." He smiled, "Especially you."

"Only lord I'll be worshiping is Jesus." Adam whispered watching as they left, "Fuckin' nut jobs."

_______

Adam surveyed his bedroom with satisfaction as he finished cleaning and organizing. The lingering scent of incense and weed had finally dissipated, replaced by the crisp freshness of lemon-scented cleaner. With a content sigh, he pulled off his shirt.

"Maybe it's time to put myself out there again," Adam mused aloud. His religious upbringing and life as a soldier had always made him cautious about jumping into relationships too quickly.

Grinning, he grabbed his phone and snapped a selfie, making sure to capture the defined lines of his abs and pecs. He knew it was a bit vain, but hey, why not show off a little? It had been far too long since he'd had anyone special in his life.

Night fell, Adam drifted off to sleep. He found himself standing naked in an ethereal dreamscape, the air thick with mist. Suddenly, a figure materialized before him - a stunningly handsome man radiating an otherworldly aura.

"Who…who are you?" Adam asked, instinctively trying to cover himself.

The spirit smiled warmly, "Be at peace, Adam. Fret not." His gaze roamed appreciatively over Adam's nude form, "You have the body of a warrior. It served you well at one time, but now we have no use for it."

It trailed a finger down Adam's chiseled chest, causing him to shudder. Unseen hands began massaging his muscles, kneading and caressing every inch of his body.

"Ahhh~ W-what's happening?" Adam moaned helplessly as his muscles slowly began shrinking, the definition melting away until he was left with soft, undefined flesh, "No! Stop!"

_______

Adam woke with a gasp, his heart pounding.

"Huh… what the hell was that?" Adam muttered groggily, sitting up in bed and running his hands over his chest and arms. To his shock, his once rock-hard muscles had indeed softened, leaving him with a leaner, less toned physique.

"What in the world…" He stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom, staring at his reflection in disbelief, "This… doesn't make sense." He felt like he should be more concerned, and yet… he wasn't.

Shaking his head, Adam splashed water on his face and tried to dismiss it as a strange dream. He threw on some loose clothes and headed downstairs.

In the kitchen, Adam found Micah already up and packing boxes, a joint dangling from his lips.

"Morning, Adam!" Micah greeted cheerfully, taking a long drag before stubbing out the joint. "Just wanted to let you know I'm making good progress on getting packed up."

Adam blinked, momentarily distracted by the haze of smoke, "Uh, yeah, thanks Micah." he sighed, "Take your time, okay? I was a bit of an asshole yesterday." He felt disoriented in his lighter body- less certain.

Micah grinned, something reflected in his eyes that Adam couldn't make out, "Thanks, man."

______

That evening, as Adam lay in bed, exhaustion from the day's events tugged at him. Just as he drifted off, he found himself transported back to the ethereal dreamscape from before.

"Our work continues, dear Adam," the spirit purred, reaching out to trail a finger along Adam's jawline. Adam shivered at the touch.

"What… what are you doing to me?" Adam asked, his voice trembling slightly. He could feel an odd prickling sensation spreading across his skin.

The spirit chuckled lowly, "Letting your spirit bloom free."

The invisible hands left trails of tingling warmth in their wake. Slowly, Adam became aware of dark shapes forming on his skin - intricate patterns and swirling designs blooming across his chest and arms.

"What… what is this?" Adam marveled, lifting his arms to examine the new tattoos decorating his flesh, "What are you...?"

"Embrace your new truth," the spirit murmured, pressing closer, "And surrender to me."

_______

Adam awoke with a sharp inhale, his heart racing. Stumbling out of bed, Adam rushed to the bathroom, staring at his reflection in shock Decorating his chest and arms, were the same glowing tattoos from his dream!

"What the actual fuck…" Adam breathed, tracing the intricate lines with trembling fingers, "Are those fuckers pranking me or some shit?"

Downstairs, he heard movement and voices - Micah and Jasper. This needed to stop. Something in the back of his mind urging him to kick them out. That they needed to leave immediately. In the kitchen, Micah and Jasper looked up in surprise at Adam's entrance. Their eyes widened at the sight of his newly inked skin. Knowing smiles forming on their lips.

"Morning, Adam," Micah chirped brightly, "Sleep well?"

Adam frowned, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. He suddenly felt self-conscious under their gazes, his resolve weakening, "Yeah, uh, not bad I guess. Listen, about you guys moving out…"

"Oh, don't worry about it, man. We're totally on track!" Micah reassured breezily. "

Jasper nodded in agreement, his long hair swaying. "Yeah bro, we appreciate you giving us a little extra time. It means a lot."

"Right. Okay then." Adam cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. He could still feel the phantom sensation of the spirit's touch on his skin. "Well, I'll just, uh, leave you to it then."

--------

Later that night, the ethereal dreamscape enveloped Adam. The spirit hovered nearby, his handsome visage impassive as he drank in Adam's nude form. Without a word, he reached out and trailed slender fingers along Adam's face, and immediately he wisps of hair tickling his skin as a full beard slowly spread across his jawline and cheeks. The sensation moved upwards to his ears, pressure against the lobes as the skin stretched into neat rings, ready for gauges.

Adam shuddered, "What are you doing?"

His eyes fluttering shut as phantom caresses roamed lower, mapping the contours of his chest and abdomen. Sprouts of coarse hair bloomed across the flat planes, creeping down toward his navel and spiraling outward in fine curls.

"Your body will honor me. And you will honor your natural self."

-------

Adam jolted awake with a strangled cry, his heart hammering wildly against his ribs. Disoriented, he sat up and frantically patted his face, his chest, his ears—

"What the actual fuck?" he croaked hoarsely. Where there had been smooth, bare skin before, now there was a full, neatly trimmed beard and mustache; his earlobes were stretched into perfect circles, ready for gauges; and a sparse carpet of hair dusted his chest and belly, framing his new nipple piercings.

Adam stumbled out of bed and staggered over to the mirror, staring at his reflection in utter disbelief. Gone was the clean-cut, military precision of his former appearance—the very image of a disciplined soldier.

"This can't be real," Adam muttered feverishly, twisting the metal bars through his nipples with a wince. "What the fuck is happening to me?" He touched his new nose ring and shuddered, "I need to get help. This doesn't make any fuckin' sense."

And yet… every time he thought of calling someone, of going to a hospital, a wave of peace washed over him- scrubbing him of such thoughts. Adam shook his head and stumbled down the stairs.

Downstairs, Leif stood chatting with Jasper and Micah in the kitchen. Adam froze in the doorway, a flush rising to his cheeks as all three sets of eyes landed on him. For a moment, none spoke.

"Uh, mornin'," Adam mumbled lamely, crossing his arms over his chest and hunching inward defensively. Leif's eyes sparkled with some unreadable emotion.

"So, about those extra days you gave us," Leif began smoothly, spreading his hands. "We were wondering if you might consider letting us stay a bit longer, actually? Just until the end of the month. I promise we'll be no trouble at all."

"Uh, yeah, sure, I guess that'd be okay," Adam found himself saying, the words spilling out unbidden.

Leif's smile widened, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Wonderful! Thank you so much, Adam. Your generosity knows no bounds."

Adam flushed deeper, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Yeah, well, uh, no problem." He glanced around, desperate for an escape. "Anyway, I better go shower. Smell like shit."

Adam hurried upstairs and into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. He twisted the faucet, welcoming the hiss of running water. As steam began fogging up the mirror, Adam stripped off his clothes and caught sight of himself once more.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered, gingerly prodding at his chest hair and beard. The metal of his new piercings glinted coldly in the fluorescent light.

But as he stood there, he found his nose wrinkling at the scent of soap and shampoo. The urge to wash felt…wrong somehow. Unnatural. Instead, he savored the musk of his own body. With a defeated groan, he turned the shower off. And he did something he never thought he'd do. He cried. Everything he'd believed about himself, seemed to be slipping away bit by bit.

"Please," he whispered brokenly. "Please, just…just let me go back to normal. I don't want this. I don't want any of it."

------

And as night fell, Adam found himself transported in front of the entity.

"Your rigid beliefs and military discipline have shackled you for too long," the spirit intoned. "They prevent you from truly experiencing the present moment. From reveling in the sensations of your own flesh."

As he spoke, wisps of smoke began curling around Adam's body, filling his lungs. Adam coughed, eyes widening as a wave of dizziness crashed over him.

The spirit leaned in close, "Breathe it in. Let it fill you, consume you. Embrace the ecstasy that awaits."

Adam inhaled reflexively. Almost instantly, an unbearable heat flooded through his veins. Every brush of air against the hairs now adorning his chest, every graze of his fingertips against his piercings sent jolts of pure electric pleasure directly to his groin. He writhed, helpless against the overwhelming sensations surging through him.

------

Adam’s eyes flew open. His body slick with sweat, his cock throbbing insistently against his thigh. Confusion warred with a dull, persistent ache of shame.

With trembling fingers, he tentatively gripped his pierced nipples. The resulting jolt of raw, undiluted pleasure shot straight down his spine, forcing a choked gasp from his lips. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting the tidal wave of sensations threatening to drown him.

"Stop," he commanded himself. "This isn't you." But his body betrayed him. His thumb circled the ring again, drawing out another involuntary moan. His cock hardened. His mind racing, "No… fuck…" With great effort he let his hands drop, "I… I need to get out of here."

Adam fumbled blindly out of his bedroom, his legs heavy and unsteady. He needed to leave. Find somewhere else to stay. Those fucking hippies could keep his place. They could live here. Just as long as he could go back to being him. But as he stumbled down the hall, he collided with Leif.

"Pl-please." Adam begged weakly, "Make it stop. I can't handle this anymore." His voice cracked, a stark contrast to the confident soldier he’d once been. "Everything's changing… I don't recognize myself anymore."

Leif smiled and instead produced a rolled joint. He pressed it silently into Adam's trembling hand. Adam stared at the joint, his mind screaming no—he was a good soldier. He'd never smoked weed, never risked failing a drug test, never jeopardize his career. Yet his traitorous fingers automatically brought it to his lips. He inhaled deeply, the smoke burning his lungs. Instantly, his muscles loosened, the tension draining from his shoulders. A slow, stupid grin spread across his face as he passed the joint back to Leif.

"Whoa," he breathed out a cloud of smoke. "That's… really good stuff." He laughed, a sound foreign to his own ears. "Makes everything feel… good." Leif watched him with patient amusement and smiled.

Hours later, Adam slumped into his bed, eyes bloodshot and glassy from the day-long smoke-out. A pleasant smile on his face as he fell asleep. He expected the familiar pull of the ethereal dreamscape, the comforting weight of the Glorious Spirit's presence—but nothing came. Just silence. Cold, empty darkness. Panic clawed at his throat. Where was he? Why hadn't he come? Had Adam done something wrong? Was he being punished?

"Don't leave me," he whimpered, "Please. Come back."

No answer. He wandered, aimlessly until he saw it. A lone tree. Names carved into it: James, Liam —all crossed out with new names etched beneath. One caught his eye: Mike. Crossed out. Micah carved beneath it.

Recognition hit him like a physical blow. "Mike… Micah…" Adam whispered, the connection clicking. The shy, quiet college kid. Now Micah—tattooed, free, belonging. Fear coiled in his stomach.

Your turn.

He scanned the trunk higher, heart hammering against his ribs. There, in rough, jagged letters: ADAM. His own name. Not just a label—it was the man he’d been. A soldier. His uniform. His rifle. His duty. The disciplined man he’d always believed himself to be. Tears welled hot in his eyes. This name… was his. It belonged to him. His father’s pride, his mother's boy. Army buddies, barbecues on July fourth. Push-ups until his muscles burned. Adam picked up a jagged stone lying discarded at the tree's base.

"Wait..."

Before conscious thought could intervene, he drove the point into the wood, scratching over "A-D-A-M" with a single slash. He stared at it- eyes devoid of emotion. Empty. Then, beneath the obliterated remnants, he carved: ASPEN.

A strange calm settled over him. He was no longer lost in the gray void—he was rooted. Aspen. It suited him now. Lean. Natural. Wild. A small, uncertain smile touched his lips as he rested his forehead against the bark.

--------

Adam woke with a start, the name Aspen echoing in his mind.

"Aspen?" He whispered. It felt wrong- part of him protesting the way the name rolled on his tongue. He wasn't ready to give up being Adam- not yet.

He stumbled to the bathroom, naked, and stared into the mirror. His reflection stared back: the beard, the ear gauges, the piercings, the tats. It was him. Not some nightmare he'd wake up from. Him.

He ran a hand along his wiry chest hair. Aspen. His fingers traced the swirling tattoos blooming across his chest and arms. Aspen. He sniffed his hairy armpit, taking in his rich, earthy musk. Aspen. He tweaked the silver barbell in his nipple, sending sparks of pleasure. Aspen. He felt the gauges in his ears. Aspen. He breathed in the faint smell of weed that still clung to his skin. Aspen. His gaze dropped to his torso—lean, softer, no bulging biceps. No longer a warrior's body. Aspen.

Micah knocked on the door. "Hey, Adam, breakfast—"

"Not Adam," He corrected, opening the door. "My name is Aspen."

Micah blinked, then grinned knowingly. "Right. Breakfast’ll be ready soon, Aspen"

-------

That evening, Aspen lounged contentedly in the backyard, enjoying the gentle hum of cicadas and the distant laughter of his roommates. A joint hung loosely from his lips, his gaze fixed on the stars above. Beside him, Leif settled onto the blanket, leaning close enough that their shoulders brushed. Without warning, Leif tilted Aspen's chin upward and kissed him softly. Aspen melted into it, returning his first of many kisses with another man.

"You're ready now," he murmured, stroking Aspen's cheek. "You belong here. With us. In this home. Our home."

Bliss surged through Aspen. This was what he'd yearned for—acceptance, purpose. He fell asleep on Leif's chest.

-------

In the dreamscape, the spirit stood beside Aspen, radiating approval.

“Are you dedicated?” he asked, his voice a low murmur.

Aspen met his gaze, a serene certainty settling over him. The spirit extended a hand, palm upturned. Hesitation flickered—for a fleeting second, images flashed in Aspen’s mind: camouflage uniforms, polished rifles, marching boots on gravel roads. Memories of strict discipline, rules, and the sting of judgment for deviation. But then came warmth: sunlight on his bare, tatted chest, the earthy tang of musk, the pleasant burn of weed. The spirit’s touch on his skin—exquisite. Freedom. Belonging.

“Yes,” Aspen breathed, his voice thick with conviction. “I am.”

The spirit smiled and gently guided Aspen backward until he lay prone on the moss-covered ground. Aspen gasped—not in fear, but in awe—as the spirit lowered himself atop him, his form shimmering with starlight and shadow. He could feel it enter him. Every nerve-ending sang. Every brush of the spirit’s skin ignited fireworks. Aspen moaned, arching his hips upward, surrendering fully. His past life unraveled—army drills, barracks, church pews—all fading like mist under dawn light. Only this mattered: the spirit’s weight pinning him down, the rhythm of ancient power pulsing through his veins with each thrust. This was it. This was all that mattered.

--------

Morning arrived, and Aspen stirred in bed, blinking against the sunlight filtering through the curtains. A profound sense of peace settled over him as he took stock of his body. The anxiety, the confusion, the terror—they had evaporated away.

In the kitchen, Micah and Jasper were already preparing breakfast, their cheerful chatter filling the air.

"Good morning, Brother Aspen!" Micah called out, nudging a plate piled high with tofu scramble toward him.

Aspen smiled. No more drills, no more rules binding him. Only freedom. Only nature. Only devotion. Forever. His smile deepened as he joined his brothers at the table, the future stretching ahead like an endless forest path. Peace. Devotion. Forever. Aspen was home.

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