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[gaytffun]

[anon-sect2]

can you turn me into my homophobic step brother’s jockstrap?

Picture source @joep00

It was not the perfect idea that his stepbrother Kyle came out to the family as gay. Connor saw everyone being supportive of him being open about it, but he wasn't all too happy. Yet, he decided to keep his opinion to himself. He would just keep his distance from Kyle.

The distance plan didn't work all too well for Connor as Kyle was trying to be close to his stepbrother. He never truly told him how disgusted he was with having a gay stepbrother. Sort of lied to say that he was supportive. Yet, the constant wanting to chill with him was getting annoying. He decided that there was one way to put an end to it and get something out of it at the same time.

Connor finally cave in and invited Kyle on a weekend trip in his RV to the woods. He was happy to see him accept the invitation, but Kyle wanted to bring two of his gay friends with him since he thought Connor was so supportive. He agreed they could come on the trip.

All four had fun on the drive to the spot in the woods, even though Connor was hiding his true motive. By the end of the trip, he would be returning home alone in some way.

At the end of the first day at the spot, Kyle and his two friends went to sleep soundly, not expecting anything off. Connor got up and took his TF Ray device. He went first to Kyle's friends and fired at them. He watched as they were reduced to a pair of black boots. He then went to Kyle. He had a special place for his gay stepbrother. He fired at him and watched him change into a white jockstrap. He picked up the jockstrap to examine it. It looked absolutely perfect. He then tried on his stepbrother. The jockstrap seemed comfortable to wear. Now, his gay stepbrother would see his dick for the rest of his life. He went to sleep wearing him.

Kyle woke up feeling strange. His immediate view was that of a giant dick in his face. He tried to move from it but couldn't, no matter how much he squirmed. He then heard Connor's voice above him. "Good, you awake. I can finally tell you the truth. I don't like that you are gay and wanted to keep my distance, but you wouldn't allow me. So, now this is your new fate. You are my jockstrap. You get to hang out with me for the rest of your life with my cock in your face. I won't be changing you back. And if anyone asks about you, I will tell them you left town." Connor then paused for the next few words. "As for your two friends, they are my boots. I can't have any witnesses telling what I did to you. They make good boots, though, just like you are the best jockstrap I ever owned. All three of you are mine now." Connor finished as he walked around in the RV wearing his new boots and jockstrap.

Connor didn't know his new objects loved their new life or was hating it. He got rid of three fags and gained new pair of boots and jockstrap at the same time. It was a win-win for him. It didn't matter if they loved it or not. They were his property now and simply didn't have a choice.

[zadenight]

[fredwkong]

Fucked Silly

You didn’t think much of what he’d said at first. He was just a Grindr hookup, and tops will say literally anything. The message didn’t even crack the top 5 weirdest things you’d been sent. But still:

“Gonna see you fucked silly.”

It was so specific. Okay, maybe you looked like a bit of a dummy, with your sturdy muscles and habitual smile. But you were getting a doctorate! There was nothing silly about a PhD in Historiography.

“Gonna see you fucked silly.”

You looked at the message one last time as you waited rang for him to unlock the door of his building. You rolled your eyes. Bullshit tops.

But as his fat cock penetrated your hole, you started to feel weird. Your thoughts started to slow down and drift away. “What’s… happening?” you groaned as he bottomed out.

“You’re getting fucked silly, like all the other guys I top,” the top told you, and shifted inside you. You felt his cock rub up against your prostate and some of your thoughts popped like shiny, glittery soap bubbles.

“Noooo,” you moaned, shocked at how slutty your voice sounded. “I don’t wanna be a silly boyyyy.” You were smart, right? You were getting a Historo— Histrio— His— a big degree!

“Yeah, you do,” said the top, starting to fuck you harder. “You wanna be a silly bottom boi with big juicy muscles.”

“I’m moooore than a joocy muscle boiiiii,” you moaned, caught between bliss and horror as your whole body lit up from the fucking. More and more of your thoughts, memories, and knowledge slipped out of your grasp and vanished as he kept on fucking. You tried to hold onto things like your high school math class and your favourite show, but they vanished so fast you forgot you’d ever known them.

You felt your brain getting lighter and lighter as everything inside it dissolved and went away. As the top’s rhythm broke down with approaching orgasm, you moaned wantonly and fucked back into him, desperate for stimulation as the last of your smarts vanished.

The top came, and the sensation of him filling you up with his cum ripped away everything that you had left. You spurted all over the bed with an empty-headed groan. The sight of all the globs of cum on the sheets suddenly struck you as hilarious, and you started to laugh. “Huhuhuhu…”

The top pulled out. “Another happy customer,” he said, patting you on your broad back.

You twerked back at him, feeling empty. You flipped over and grinned up at him. “I wanna go dancingggg,” you whined in your new dumb, slutty voice. “Let’s go partyyyyy.” You were just a dumb, airheaded himbo with bouncy muscles and a goofy personality.

You’d been fucked silly.

[hyphyphurray]

Throw two alpha males into the same gym, and they’ll either become best friends or enemies.

Maybe if Derek wasn’t such an asshole, we’d have been best bros. But one time I was just finishing up my entire workout and I told him he couldn’t switch in, and he got all pissed about it. It was my last two sets, and then I had to run, he didn’t have to act like such a little bitch about it.

But now every time we’re in the gym at the same time, he’s gotta pull some kind of shit. He even has a couple admirers that do his fucking bidding- I saw some nerdy type trying to steal something from my gym bag, and when caught in the act, he just ran behind Derek like some kind of cowering puppy. Pathetic.

Not that I don’t have a couple of non-muscle types on my side. I’d been helping this kinda guy Shawn for a month by giving him some pointers, and he’d seen some small gains, and now he practically worships me. And honestly, I was proud of him- it’s the incentive to keep going to the gym and work- whatever genetics gave you- that mattered to me. Sure, he’d never weigh more than a buck fifty, but he wasn’t some asshole like Derek.

It was after Derek “tripped” one day and spilled my protein shake that I just got super pissed and ranted about him to Shawn.

“I can’t stand that asshole!” I growled, glowering from across the gym. “He thinks the whole fucking world revolves around him.”

Shawn tried to calm me down.

“Listen, Mark,” he said, helping me clean up my shake. “You’re a good guy, and you’ve been super nice to me. Maybe I could do something to help you out with Derek…”

“Like what?” I asked.

Shawn blushed.

“Well, uh… I’m kind of a hypnotist, and…” he cleared his throat. “I could maybe make this audio file that makes him listen to you…. follow your orders…”

“Are you for real?” I said. “That shit actually work?”

Shawn nodded and then continued.

“I could pretend to ask him for lifting help, act like we had a falling out, and then tell him that I had this great file that would help him out with his workouts….”

Holy shit. That sounded amazing.

“Shawn,” I said, clapping him on the back. “You’re fucking awesome, bro!”

And the rest of the week at the gym, it all went to plan. Shawn started following Derek around, praising his muscles and asking for help. Derek seemed only too happy to steal away an admirer of mine, and actually started parading Shawn in front of me, trying to piss me off.

But then I’d see him post workout, earbuds in, listening to something. Shawn saw me taking note and winked.

My phone buzzed. A text from Shawn.

“His trigger phrase is Muscle Slave,” it read.

I grinned. I couldn’t wait for just the right moment.

It came the next week. In the locker room, I saw Derek’s scrawny hero-worshipper kneeled over my gym bag, mumbling something. Derek probably sent him over to throw it in one of the showers or some juvenile prank like that.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, you little twerp?” I bellowed, and the little pipsqueak jumped into the air and took off. I looked in my bag. Nothing missing. I pulled out my muscle tank and a clean jock from the bag and threw them on with some shorts. This shit was gonna end today.

I made my way across the locker room to Derek, who had just finished working out.

“Your little dork was trying to get into my stuff again,” I growled.

Derek looked up from the bench he sat on.

“Christ, you’re an asshole,” he sneered. “Just ‘cause you’ve got some muscle, you think you’re in charge. Take that away and you’d be a nobody.”

“And you think everyone should just bend over at your every word. Can’t imagine a world that doesn’t revolve around you,” I spat back.

Strangely, he grinned.

“I can’t help it if little guys love me,” he flexed in his tight black undershirt. “If you were one, I bet you’d be all over this too. Or should I say, when you are one…”

I froze. What the fuck was this asshole talking about?

“I can’t believe it,” he continued. “That ‘little dork’ you were talking about actually did it.”

“Did what?” I cleared my throat. Something felt weird. I glared down at Derek. My hand went to my throat. “What the…?”

Derek’s eyes blazed as he actually started to laugh.

“Shit, you haven’t noticed? You’ve gotta be 30 pounds lighter by now!”

I looked down. My previously tight muscle tank was hanging off of me. My pecs! Gone! My biceps- gone! All of my hard earned gains at the gym were melting away!

I stared in horror at Derek. Fuck, was I getting shorter? He was sitting- I should be towering over him.

“That ‘little dork’ friend of mine does some magic in his spare time,” Derek chortled. “And he agreed with me that you should get taken down a peg or two.”

My shorts felt loose as I lost another inch. Two.

“You bastard!” I yelled, and my voice cracked.

“So now you’re going to know what it feels like to be a scrawny little nerd, obsessed with big muscle guys.”

Oh god, even my dick was shrinking. I could feel the jock loosen around my balls. I should have been pissed, but… I just saw this behemoth in front of me, his thighs bulging in his dark green shorts. My now tinier dick was hard and getting harder. Fuck! I was getting horny looking at Derek!

“Oh fuck,” I moaned, sounding like some little bitch.

I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror to the side. I must be barely 5'4’’ now! I’d be lucky if I weighed 120!

Derek grinned at me.

“You want this, don’t you?” he said, and flexed his massive arms.

Fuck. I did. My shorts, now too baggy for my shrunken frame, fell down around my ankles. God, even my feet had shrunk! My size 13 sneakers made me feel like I was wearing clown shoes.

I stared at Derek, impossibly horny. God, I wanted him to fuck me. To pin me down with his massive bulk. He stood over me, a giant, seemingly impossibly tall after once being just an inch shorter than me. He pushed me to my new, skinny knees.

“Not giving orders anymore, are you, you horny little twink?” he laughed.

And then I saw the earbuds still in.

“Shut up, Muscle Slave,” I snapped.

Derek blinked. His jaw started to go slack.

“What…?” he trailed off. He looked wobbly.

“Sit down, Muscle Slave,” I said.

He did.

Fuck. I was horny. And now this massive muscle god was sitting in front of me, awaiting orders.

I wrapped my new smaller hand around my tiny, hard cock. My other hand moved its way to my ass. God, fuck, I was so small, and horny.

I needed to get fucked.

“You’re right,” I purred, tracing my hand down Derek’s massive shoulder. “I’m just a horny little twink boy.”

His eyes seemed glazed.

“And now you’re gonna fuck me like I’m the center of your reality.”

I saw his dick twitch in his green shorts.

“Fuck me, Muscle Slave,” I whispered.

He picked me up right out of my now massive shoes with one arm, and slid off the now comically large jockstrap down my now-hairless legs. He turned me around, and I felt his massive cock push against my ass.

“Yes, master,” he said.

I started to grind my perky little ass against his raging boner. I felt the sinew of his muscles gripping me, enveloping me. I wanted to worship every one of them.

Fuck.

I was a horny little muscle-obssed fuckboi.

I moaned in my higher voice.

And this muscle god was going to fuck me until I forgave him.

[dougtfs]

I’m the only one who knows Alex’s secret: He can transform you with a kiss. He confided in me one morning, and shyly added, “and I’ve kinda wanted to kiss you for a long time.”

“Then do it,” I said, pulling him close. Our mouths met, our lips touched, and I felt his power flow through me.

“What are you turning me into?” I asked.

“The perfect boyfriend,” he grinned. I felt my clothing evaporate from my body, leaving me naked in front of him. My muscle cramped and bulged, growing huge, and my cock swelled. I felt my body stretch, growing taller, and I wrapped my bigger, stronger arms around him. He’s mine now, and I’m his.

Get more stories of transformation, power, and control: https://amzn.to/2zuzn1M

[dougtfs]

“Shrink, bro,” he said, and I felt myself suddenly slip down a few inches in height.

“Dude, what did you just do to me?” I gasped. He grinned. 

“What, you mean … did I make you … shrink?” I dropped down a few more inches, and he grew larger.

“Dude! Stop! How are you doing this?”

“No big deal, bro,” he said, smiling down at me. My speedo was getting loose. “I just found a spell that can make me grow while you … shrink.”

That did it again – I felt myself tighten and compact, slipping down until I was barely taller than his chest.

“Please, no!” I begged as my speedo dropped to the ground, leaving me naked. “Dude, change me back!” My voice was getting so high-pitched and squeaky!

“Sorry, bro, I can’t,” he said, stretching up taller and taller. He rubbed my head. “The spell only works one way. It can only make you shrink, shrink, shrink.”

With each word, I got smaller and smaller, dropping down past his waist, then past his knees, then I was barely bigger than his foot. “Noooo!” I squeaked, but I don’t know if he could even hear me. 

“Dude, you’re so tiny and naked!” he boomed, towering over me. “I gotta show you to the other guys!” He reached down and I felt his fist close around me, squeezing me tight. “I always wanted a little pet.”

Get more stories of transformation, sex, and control: https://amzn.to/2Rhaw5G

[pegasus-omega]

Picture source: mine

Barry and his roommate were highly competitive when it came to game time on the PS5. Both were always trying to out top the other. They would often take bests when they played. Sometimes it would be money bets. Other times, they would bet who's paying for the meals. At times, Barry would win, but mainly his roommate Kay would win eighty-five percent of the time. Barry wanted to spice up their bets the next time they made a bet.

Kay came into the living room and saw the system on. "I see you want to lose again." He smirked.

"Not this time. I plan to win for sure." Barry said holding a box in his lap. "To make our next bet more interesting, I bought this." He opened the box to reveal a TF Ray device. "The winner gets to use this on the loser for two days." He smirked.

"Oh, I see. You want me to turn you into an object then." Kay laughed as he sat down and took the other controller. "You know you will lose again. Are you sure you want to take this bet?" He asked, wanting to be sure his roommate was understanding what he was getting into.

"I know I will win." Barry paused. "I already know what you will be for a couple of days." He added as he started up the game.

"We will see who will win. I just hope you agree with the deal when you lose." Kay smirked.

"Same for you." Barry added as they both started playing. The game was going well. He was already points ahead. The thought of turning Kay into a pair of socks for two days excited him. As time went on, the game changed, and Kay was gaining in points. It wasn't long before Kay took the lead. It was getting close to the end of the game. He knew he had to catch up and surpass him, or he would lose their bet. He didn't want Kay having the choice to choose whatever he wanted to turn him into.

Kay smiled as the game ended. He won so many points ahead of Barry. He took the device out to the box and played with the settings. He had already in mind what he was going to change him into. "I tried to warn you if you wanted to back out." He said as he put in the settings for the transformed object, he was about to change Barry into. "Remember, you made this bet, not me." He added as he pointed the device at him.

"Yeah, Yeah, do it already. Remember you have to change me back after two days. That's the deal." Barry reluctantly agreed to the terms. He did lose fair and square. And it was also the conditions of the bet he chose. He had to agree with it even though he was hoping he would win. He sat a ray of light coming from the device. His vision changed for a moment. He was temporarily blind, unaware of what was happening to his body. His vision soon returned. He saw limited light and vision was split. He couldn't move his body. All could see was straight up, but that wasn't much help.

Kay looked at the floor at a pair of new boots. He was surprised that the device really worked. He had been meaning to buy a new pair of work boots since his current one were wearing down. "Wow, it really worked." He picked up one boot and sniffed it. It had the fresh new scent to it. "Can't wait to wear these to work tomorrow." He said as he picked up the other boot and went to his room. He placed both in an old used shoe box for in the morning.

Barry was mortified when he realized what he was turned into. He knew Kay worked in construction and would come home with smelly and sweaty feet. He would often ask him to wash his feet before sitting in the living room. His sweaty socks were just that musky. This was one transformation he would not have wanted. He was stuck in a shoe box, waiting on Kay to wear him tomorrow for work.

The next morning, Kay showered and got dressed. He grabbed the old shoe box and pulled out his new work boots. "Time to test you out, buddy." He said as he put one on each foot. Once both were secured. He jumped several times, observing the level of comfort each boot provided his feet. He wiggled his thick black socks in his new boots. "Wow, way better than my old boots." He added as he left the house to go to work.

Barry felt like he was in a nightmare. His roommate's socked feet were pressing down on his insole face. The pressure of being walked on was extremely uncomfortable and terrible. He mentally screamed in agony even if Kay was just standing still. 'I don't think I can survive two days of this.' He mentally thought to himself. He could only know that it was going to get much worse for him.

As the day went on, Kay found that his feet felt like he was stepping on the most comfortable insoles ever. His feet weren't in any pain at all from standing on his feet for so many hours. He could feel his sock getting sweaty inside. He hoped Barry can stand it. Besides he was his property for two days anyway.

"Change me back, please, no more." Barry mentally pleaded as the sweaty socks created a musky odor that was starting to saturate all of his insides. There was no escape from the musk and sweat. To make it worse, that sweat was being pressed against his face over and over. "Please change me back." He continued to plea even though he knew that Kay would not hear a single thought. The workday went and on with him serving his roommate's feet without end as just his work boots.

At the end of the day, Kay returned home and took off his boots. He sniffed one and found a strong odor coming from it. "Wow, you reek just after one day. But I do admit, you are the most comfortable pair I have ever worn. Can't wait to do it tomorrow." He laughed as he went and put the boots in the old shoe box. He took off his sweaty socks and stuffed them inside each boot. "Something to remember this day, buddy." He laughed as he left the boots in the old shoe box to enjoy his sweaty musky socks.

SIX MONTHS LATER....

Kay took a break while eating a small snack. It had been six months since getting his new work boots. He was amazed at how well they held on at the mercy of his feet. His new roommate who moved in four months ago had asked what happened to his old roommate since he had to help move his stuff to the side of the road. He told him that the guy just left and never came back. He couldn't tell him the exact truth that his old roommate as living as his work boots.

At the end of the second day of transformation, he didn't want to get rid of such good work boots. Normal boots never felt this good. He threw away his old work boots in favor of his new work boots. He could buy a new pair but still would not be as comfortable. He hoped that Barry would not mind serving his feet for some time longer. However longer hadn't been determined yet though.

Barry's mind was barely hanging on. Six months under sweaty socks with no end in sight was horrible. "Come on, enough already! The bet was for a couple of days. Not the past six months! Can you hear me?! I reek of strong alpha scent...." He hoped that Kay would change him back eventually, but that hope was fleeting. Knowing that a new roommate had already moved in and lied to about his disappearance, he didn't know how long he would continue to be at the mercy of Kay's feet.

[dreamertf]

"Big" Bro

Fuck "big" bro this cock is so thick now. Took you and your football team's testosterone and now all I can think about is fucking. And lets just say that some of your ex jock friends make cute femboys, i've fucked all their brains out so they don't ever remember a world outside being a short little twink. You miss being tall? Dominant? Lets change that, spin around, let me take the last of your masculinity- not like you ever deserved it.

[rawtextsdev]

Rent Free

I’m staring at my own arm like it belongs to a fucking stranger.

Look at this shit. Look at the size of it. The way the bicep peaks, hard as a rock, veins crawling over the skin like worms trying to escape the meat underneath. I flex, and the muscle jumps. I don’t even tell it to do it anymore. It’s just a reflex. A tic. I sit here in this expensive-ass gaming chair, high as a kite, just flexing and posing for nobody, watching the muscles ripple in the reflection of the dark window.

A year ago, I was studying for my Master’s in Economics. I had glasses. I had anxiety about my thesis. I had a girlfriend named Sarah who liked that I was "sensitive."

Now? Now I’m sitting in my boxers, smelling like stale weed and three days of unwashed armpit sweat, waiting for my roommate to come home so I can beg him to let me nut.

It started with the rent. I was broke, drowning in tuition fees. Julian, rich, cocky, daddy’s-money Julian, made me an offer. He said he’d cover my half of the rent if I let him test out his new "high-fidelity audio system" while I slept. Said it was for some sleep-study bullshit he was investing in. White noise, frequencies, whatever. I thought I was scamming him. I thought, easy money.

I didn’t know he was pumping subliminal conditioning into my brain for eight hours a night.

Sleep. Forget. Grow. Obey.

The first thing to go was the books. I just… stopped caring. The words started swimming on the page. Then the gym obsession hit. Not healthy fitness, but this desperate, burning need to get huge. To get wide. To take up space. I started shaving my head. I started buying chains. I woke up one morning with this tribal tattoo on my arm and I didn’t even remember getting it, but fuck, I thought it looked sick.

My vocabulary shrank. My temper exploded. I turned into this… this thing. This aggressive, chavvy thug who wants to punch holes in drywall and spit on the sidewalk.

And Julian? He just watched. He watched me transform from a shy nerd into his personal, brain-dead muscle pet.

I look down at the desk. There’s a stack of cash there. Twenty-pound notes. That’s my "allowance." He leaves it there for me. Tells me to go buy protein, or weed, or new Calvins. And I do it. I scoop it up like a good little boy and go buy the things that keep me dumb and docile.

I hate him. I fucking hate him. He’s this skinny, smug little prick who couldn’t bench press an empty bar, and yet he owns me. He owns this body.

I shift in the chair, and the leather squeaks. My cock is throbbing so hard it actually hurts. It’s been rock hard for four hours. It’s huge now, bigger than it ever was before. Thicker. Veiny. A massive, aggressive weapon hanging between my legs, straining against the white cotton of these briefs.

But it’s useless.

That’s the worst part of the programming. The "lock."

I can jerk it. I can stroke it. I can edge myself until my eyes roll back and I’m drooling on my own chest. But I can’t finish. My brain physically won't let the signal go through. I just hit this wall of frustration, this blue-balled agony that makes me want to scream.

I need him.

I need that little faggot to walk through the door, look at me with that sneer, and give me permission.

"Fuck sake," I grunt, the words sounding thick and slur-heavy in my mouth. I grab my cock through the underwear, squeezing it, feeling the pre-cum soaking the fabric. It’s humiliating. I’m a man. Look at me! I’m a fucking tank. I could snap Julian in half like a twig. I should be out there banging birds, smashing heads, doing whatever I want.

But here I am. Sitting with my leg cocked up, foot in the air, showing off my hole like a bitch in heat.

I grab the bong off the desk and take another rip, filling my lungs with smoke to dull the anger. But the weed just makes me hornier. It makes me zone out, staring at the red LEDs on the mousepad, thinking about his hands.

I hate that I want it. That’s the twisted part. The subliminals didn’t just make me dumb; they rewired my wiring. I used to be straight. Now? The thought of a woman does nothing. But the thought of Julian ordering me onto my knees? The thought of his voice telling me what a "good, dumb chav" I am?

It makes my hips buck involuntarily.

I look at the picture on the screen, a selfie I took five minutes ago. I look dangerous. I look like the kind of guy who would mug you at a bus stop. Eyes dead, jaw set, muscles ready to strike. A total alpha.

But it’s a lie. It’s a costume he built for me.

Underneath all this muscle, I’m trapped. Screaming. But the screams are getting quieter every day. Most of the time, there’s just the static. The need to lift. The need to smoke. The need to cum.

I hear the front door unlock.

My heart hammers against my ribs, massive, powerful thuds. The adrenaline spikes, aggressive and sharp. My fist clenches. Part of me wants to rush him, slam him against the wall, show him who the man is.

But then I hear his footsteps.

"Oi!" I bark before he even gets his coat off. My voice booms, deep and gravelly, rattling the empty cans on the desk. "Get your arse in here. I gotta hit the gym in twenty minutes to train chest and I can't fuckin' think straight."

Julian appears in the doorway, that smug, knowing smirk plastered on his face. He sees the state of me, legs spread, sweat glistening on my abs, that painful tent pitching the front of my white boxers. He knows I’m crawling out of my skin.

"Drain these balls," I growl, grabbing my crotch and giving it a rough shake. "Right fuckin' now."

He doesn't argue. He doesn't even speak. He just drops to his knees between my spread thighs like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He pulls the waistband down, freeing the monster he created.

My cock springs out, heavy and angry, the uncut hood tight over the purple head. I look down at him, this skinny little twink kneeling before a mountain of muscle. I feel a surge of dominance, thinking I’m the one in charge here because I’m barking the orders.

But then he leans forward.

I grit my teeth so hard my jaw cracks as he wraps his warm, wet lips around the head.

Fuck.

I throw my head back against the headrest, my hands gripping the armrests until the leather groans. I hate this. I fucking hate that this is what my life is now. I hate looking down and seeing a dude bobbing on my lap. It’s wrong. It’s disgusting. I should be balls-deep in some bird, not getting serviced by my roommate.

But the second he starts sucking, my brain just melts.

It feels too good. It’s electric. Every swirl of his tongue, every suction of his cheeks sends a jolt straight to my prostate that curls my toes. The hatred clashes with the pleasure, twisting into this dark, aggressive heat in my gut. I want to punch him, but instead, my hips snap forward, bucking into his mouth, forcing him to take more of me.

"Yeah... take it," I grunt, staring at the ceiling, my mind going blank, stripped of everything except the sensation of his mouth on my meat. "Suck it dry so I can go lift."

I hate him. I hate myself. But right now, with his lips working my uncut cock and the pressure finally starting to build towards a release, I’ve never felt so fucking good.

[beausstuff]

Filmed Love

For my friend @axeeglitter

Mason hadn’t slept since the second night. The weight of his brother’s disappearance clung to his chest.

No calls.

No texts.

And worse, no answers. Tyler had shown him the damn ring, all trembling hands and wide eyes, the night he went missing. He Said he was going to propose after his shift at the shop.

But he never came home.

Now Mason was standing in the same foyer where he imagined his brother had stood two nights earlier. inside the clean, stale-smelling home of Mr. Dyer, the girlfriend’s father. Mason had to come to ask if his brother had stopped by. The man was calm.

So calm. He offered coffee.

"Boys leave town all the time," Mr. Dyer said, sipping his cup. "Maybe he got cold feet, he seemed the type if you know what I mean."

Mason’s stomach twisted. "That’s not him."

He pretended to use the bathroom but really he was searching. He crept down the hallway, cracking open any door just to glance inside. He paused at the office room.

A wall of tapes. VHS tapes. Dozens. All lined up on old oak shelves. Mason squinted. Those things looked prehistoric, who used VHS anymore? Handwritten labels. Male names. One near the bottom looked fresh...

Mason took a sharp breath in.

TYLER, black Sharpie scrawled across white tape spine. A photo was taped beside it, slightly askew: a shirtless Latino man in a club, getting grinded on. The man looked familiar

almost like...

Mason’s hands started to shake.

****

That night, Mason broke into the house.

It was too easy. He had noticed the back window didn't have a lock when Mr Dreyer had seen him off.

Heart thudding. He sprinted straight to the office, popped open the cabinet under the shelf, and yanked out the chunky silver VHS player. He shoved in the tape labeled TYLER, pressed play, and dropped to his knees in front of the screen sitting low to the floor.

Snow. Static. Then the tape kicked on.

It flickered,

then opened on a pounding club scene—low lighting, writhing bodies, synthy Brazilian funk thumping against the camera mic. The crowd parted slightly and then...

Tyler

Tyler appeared, mid-frame, Glitching into existance,

standing like he’d just been dropped from the sky. Same hoodie. Same confused face.

"HELLO?!" Tyler screamed up at the ceiling, looking terrified. "I DON’T KNOW WHERE I AM! LET ME OUT! PLEASE - MR. DYER - PLEASE!"

A voice sounded through the speakers, smooth, Calm, Cruel.

"You should’ve stayed away from my daughter, Tyler."

Mason watched confused. The crowd didn’t notice. The bodies kept moving, bathed in pink and purple light, sweat glistening on bare torsos, Groping and grinding. Mr Dyer Spoke again,

"I always mess up this next part—hang on…"

Tyler flinched. His body convulsed slightly, flickering with the VHS. Mason watched, jaw clenched tight, stomach turning with a strange cocktail of dread and disbelief.

glitch

The change was instant. His skin tone deepened, a radiant bronze overtaking pale peach. Glitch, His arms bulged, thick biceps rounding out with a sudden pump of meat. GLITCH, His shoulders broadened, pecs heaving out, nipples pushing against his hoodie, until the fabric shimmered and melted away into a sheer mesh tank top that clung to his glistening chest.

Tyler gasped, staggering. "W-what’s happening—?"

"You’ll look better like this," said Mr. Dyer’s voice, "You'll match the set." The Screen Flickered,

His legs thickened with a visible rush of mass. Muscle piled onto his thighs, ass ballooning into a dancer’s dream. round, high, juicy. The waistband of his jeans shredded away, replaced by skimpy white club shorts so tight you could see the pulse of his cock through the fabric. His calves flexed with each stumble, now carved from stone.

The screen flickered into static for a moment.

Mason watched in frozen horror as his brother’s jaw sharpened, lips plumped, eyes darkened with smudged kohl liner, hair tightening into a slick, stylish fade. Tyler screamed again, but the voice cracked, pitch dropping, accent thickening.

"Por favor—o que—o que está acontecendo?!"

His voice rolled with flavor now, every word wrapped in those perfect lips

"Final adjustment," Mr. Dyer said.

Tyler’s face twisted, then relaxed.

A flicker of pleasure twitched through him. His hips began to sway with the music. His moans turned low, drawn out, thirsty.

He blinked slow. His hands slid over his own glistening pecs, fingers tweaking his nipples, tracing the sweat between his abs. And then he was dancing

pressed against a thick stranger, grinding with perfect rhythm, head tilted back in ecstasy.

The camera panned in slow, capturing every bead of sweat trailing down his neck. His hard-on throbbed against his partner’s thigh, shameless and twitching.

The tape rolled. Mason stared, mouth dry, heart pounding.

What the hell had he just watched? some sort of SICK Porn Mr. Dyers was funding? He must have Tyler locked up somewhere, doing awful things to him! He had to get this tape back to the police, then maybe -

click.

The light flicked on.

Mr. Dyer stood in the doorway, an old camera in his hand. It didn’t look like any Mason had ever seen

A black chrome body, red lens, a high pitched whine being emitted. The air around it shimmered like heat off pavement.

"Don’t worry," Mr. Dyer said, voice calm. "You’ll get to see him again."

Mason barely got a "Wait, please-" out before the flash went off.

*****

The club slammed into existence around him.

Sweat. Lights. Bass. Heat. Skin. The smell.

Mason stumbled, gasping, His body was on fire. HIs vision glitched like hed seen on the VHS tape.

Flicker, He shirtless now, his jeans already stitched into something obscenely tight.

The air clung to him, every inch of skin instantly slicked with oil and desire. Tyler’s voice cut through the noise:

"Bem-vindo, mano... tava sentindo sua falta."

Mason turned and there he was

HIs Brother,

Tyler. But not anymore

Radiant and sweaty, pecs bouncing to the rhythm, cock outlined through paper-thin white mesh.

"No...no....Tyler, snap out of it!"

GLITCH

But his own voice was changing now. Thicker. Heavier. Words slurring. His thighs swelled, veins surfacing. His ass bloomed, stretching the tiny shorts he hadn't even noticed forming around his hips. Sweat dripped from his hair, down his chest and back.

His abs popped, each one a brick glistening with sweat, torso flexing with each ragged breath.

"F-Fuck, no - please I can’t..."

But it felt so good.

His cock throbbed in the fabric, already wet at the tip. His new skin shimmered bronze, He could smell his own musk.

The former Tyler pulled him into a slow grind.

Their sweat-slicked bodies met, pecs colliding, arms wrapping. Mason’s breath hitched as his hips began to move on their own, grinding back. His moan escaped deep, His tongue curling before he even knew what he was saying.

"Porra... me sinto quente pra caralho..." FLICKER

The last of his mind tilted.

The club roared.

"Vamos dançar, irmãozinho," Tyler whispered against his ear, grinding harder, tongue tracing Mason’s neck.

Mason smiled, lips parted, cock hard and twitching in his shorts.

They danced. They kissed. They moaned. The beat drowned out everything else.

And just like that, the tape kept playing.

Forever.

NOW PLAYING: “TYLER & MASON" [DO NOT REMOVE FROM SHELF] PRIVATE COLLECTION ~ M. DYER

[occamstfs]

Wish Came True

In search of a distraction Griffin condemns his best friend to a life of horny abandon. Will he be able to avoid following suit?

Horny gay man wishes his best friend wasn't straight, shame he's turning into a hairy hunk about it. Hope you enjoy -Occam

Perhaps it’s unfair to judge Griffin. Inundated with spam and meaningless nonsense just like everyone else in the modern world, how was he supposed to know the dusty old tome wasn’t just the ancient form of an email begging for your social security number. Not that he even put this much thought into the thing when he picked it up.

As his hands graced the strange ancient book’s cover, he was struck with a sensation akin to vertigo, and yet he began turning pages anyway. Haphazardly flipping through the unnamed book, apathetic to the frailty of ancient papyrus, Griffin’s attention catches on a page that’s almost entirely blank.

The single line of text upon it glimmers, at first indecipherable, when Griffin blinks it appears in the Latin before finally shifting into modern English. ‘Would that you could change any piece of the world, what will of yours shall be enacted?’ Ignoring the off-putting, almost alien phrasing, Griffin can’t help but let his mind wander, and quicker than he’d like to admit it lands on Alfred. 

Griff’s best friend since high school, the man who made him realize he’s gay, the first man to shoot him down. They laugh about it now, but in the back of Griffin’s mind he can’t help but yearn yet for how things could have been, were Alfred not straight. Were he just a slightly different man. 

The idea is certainly on his mind when offhandedly murmurs under his breath, “wouldn’t hate if Alfred just chilled out and sucked some dick…” The lights in the bookstore flicker and for a moment the book in his hands burns with the heat of a roaring fire. Caught doubly off-guard, he drops the burning book immediately before scrambling away. 

Assuming the stupid book must’ve been set here as a prank or something, Griffin grimaces at being made to look like a fool and quickly stows it back on the shelf. It’s slammed shut and jammed back before he can notice a clear depiction of Alfred being etched onto the once barren page. Turning away and storming out of the stop empty handed as that sketch slowly begins to change.

Unaware of what he has wrought, when Alfred texts him out of the blue he thinks nothing of it. Why should he? They’re best friends after all ‘Heyyy Griff :P mind if I come over l8r to game for a bit?’ Shrugging, he certainly doesn’t have any plans and now that he doesn’t have a new book to read why not have Alf over, ‘ya sure’

‘Tight tight tight b there in 10’

Having just hopped in his car himself, Griffin suddenly steps on the gas to try and beat Alfred to his home. Probably won’t have time to clean or set anything up, but such trifles will be the least of Griffin’s concerns when at last the wish-affected Alfred crosses his threshold.

Almost as soon as he steps through his door does he hear a knock behind. Jumping from the sound, he wonders how Alfred snuck up without him noticing. To be so close behind Griffin surely should have passed him on the way in? Shaking off suspicion, or whatever bizarre sensation that keeps prickling the back of his neck, Griffin goes to welcome in his best friend.

Imagine his surprise when he finds his usually clean cut best friend standing at his door shirtless, slightly unkempt treasure trail and sweaty upper body bared to the world. Eyes widening in shock, Griffin wordlessly steps back to allow Afred enter, all the while trying to find exactly what he wants to say. Only then does he notice Afred clearly staring at him in turn, his own expression one of need.

Uncharacteristically, Alfred pulls him into a tight hug, rubbing his sweaty body into Griffin’s shirt, almost deliberately trying to get his tee to smell like him. “Heyy buddy~ Hope I didn’t keep ya waiting for too long. I ran right over as soon as you said I could haha!”

Griffin laughs along uncomfortably before concern for his friend finally takes center stage. He’s doing his best to ignore the heat of Alfred’s body pressing into his own, given of course that he’s always trying to not think about his friend’s body at all. This time though he can’t wash away the certainty filling him that the arms on his back feel stronger than they should be. “Are you alright dude? I’ve never really seen you out in public shirtless before?”

Still grasping Griffin, Alfred’s body goes stiff and his eyes blank as something within him knows the words to be true. But it’s not like he’s changed? This is who he is, who he always has been. After shaking off the stupor, he pats Griffin on the back hard before pulling him in even tighter and sneaking a sniff of his hair. “What are you talking about dude, if I’m doing a morning run the shirt’s coming off haha!”

Hearing Alfred take a deep inhale with his face pressed into his neck, Griffin finally puts two and two together and pushes out of Afred’s tense grasp. Finally freed, ignoring the clear impression of his best friend’s sweaty pecs on his shirt, Griffin’s eyes are drawn to inky movement on the man’s arm, just like he saw in the tome. 

Jaw clenched as he realizes that impossibly, he did this. Griffin tries to keep his cool as he asks about the tattoo, “Woah hey, Alf? When did you get a tattoo?” Looking down at his own arm, Alfred tilts his head, clearly not remembering it himself before he just bolts up like he had an idea and shakes his head, “Man you’re really forgetful today huh buddy? Or awww, wait, are you just worried about me?” 

Over the years Griffin and Alfred have playfully flirted thousands of times, but now there lies an unmistakable charge behind the man’s words. A flicker behind his eyes as he steps closer to Griffin. Alfred’s hand surreptitiously reaches to grab at his crotch as he closes the distance, the tattoo that only recently covered his arm seeps into his skin as he swaggers closer, breathily grunting with each step. 

“Y’know Griff… I’ve always wanted to do this…”

No he hasn’t, he knows he hasn’t. But as Griffin’s gaze trails up his more defined abs and still glistening pecs to find Alfred biting his lip, it’s a true effort to not simply give into his desires. “No- No, something isn’t right Alfred! I- You can’t-” He continues edging closer, his cock clearly throbbing in his firm grip.

As Griffin retreats away from Alfred, his expression grows almost frantic with need. His voice resounds raspier as he whines, still palming his bulge, “Griffinnn~ C’mon~ You know you want it! What’s so wrong about getting some relief, chasing your desires…”

Physically turning away from Alfred as he feels his own cock clearly straining his underwear, Griffin struggles to think of any next steps that don’t involve someone getting down on their knees. Much of his blood flowing south, the solution he produces is an obviously foolish one. Clearly controlled by Id alone. He’ll just ask more of it. Try and overwhelm the power clearly beyond his control.

His voice quivers from fear and lust as he tries his best to sound unaffected, “I don’t know Griffin? I guess I just usually only sleep with guys who are a little bigger?” His nose scrunches as he immediately knows this was a stupid gambit. When his cock pulses at the idea he slams his fist into his forehead for following his lusts rather than sense.

Hearing a grunt behind him, he turns to see a sneer on Alfred’s face. Ink returns to flourish across his form, and in its wake Alfred begins to bulk larger. Grunting through clenched teeth in a voice deepening with the growth of his neck, Alfred chokes out, “Need to be more… For- Griffin…”

Mouth agog, Griffin can’t believe what he’s seeing as a man he’s always more than thirsted for somehow becomes even more appealing. The sly, sleek body of a runner that he arrived in immediately almost doubles in size. Bulky arms bulge larger from shoulders that twitch wider by the second. Clear cockiness replaces the air of flirty confidence he had walked in with. 

Watching as his powerful arms rise into a flex, revealing hairy pits Griffin didn’t even know he was into, Alfred’s arms throb larger with every second spent posing. The spellcaster’s mouth dries up as he imagines how those burly biceps would manhandle him, as he can almost feel their strength, their burning heat on his back, pulling him close.

Need panging in his chest as he desperately craves being held against Alfred’s pecs as they bloom into proper, corded muscle. Seeing stubble streaking across the ever-clean man’s jaw he can almost feel it scratching against his lips as what feels like a memory of making out begins to seep into his mind. 

“Griffy~ Little Alfred doesn’t know how much longer he can take all this conversastion… Balls are getting awful blue…” 

Hearing the beast of a man’s croaky voice maintain the unmistakable lilt of his boyf- best friend’s playful tone drives him up a wall. Watching as the ink once more fades into his skin as his wider hands reach to free a bulge seemingly larger than Griffin’s head, he’s left with an almost overpowering need to fall in front of Alfred. After all, the man’s ongoing growth, and new lust for Griffin is nothing more than his own desires made manifest.

The guilt at doing this is exactly why he is able, for perhaps the final time, to deny the unfathomably alluring man’s approach. “Wait, just wait, Alfred. You’re straight, right?! Remember, you- we. We tried! Just, I want you just like you were!”

“No, no you don’t!” His whole form twitches larger unevenly as the words tear from his throat. Thick thighs strain his shorts as one arm bulges larger before the other follows. Stretching his neck as he reaches back to massage the straining traps, Alfred grunts as something within him struggles to understand Griffin’s refusal to engage with his desires. “You want this!? Am I not enough, shall I become even more!? I need you.”

Falling to his knees with a heavy thud, Griffin almost gives in as he sees the heavy package bounce out of his waistband, dripping pre onto the floor as Alfred continues to whine wordlessly, more lust than man. The aura of his sweaty musk finally reaches the opposite side of the room where Griff had been putting up his meagre resistance, and at last he realizes he needs the man to leave if he’s to fix this. 

“Okay.” 

Alfred lights up, his iron rod of a cock bobbing in the air as his stubbled smile widens. Bounding to his new full height, he closes the distance to Griffin’s side in two strides of his long hairy legs. Leaning down to kiss the man with a tongue that wants nothing more to explore Griffin’s mouth, he is instead met with a finger. “But, I’ll need a while to prepare. Wanna make sure everything’s perfect for the first time, y’know.” 

Whining like a dog, Alfred stamps his feet and turns away, hips almost rutting into the air at being edged like this. “MMMm fuck! Jesus fine! Whatever!” Staring at his wide back, seeing individual muscle groups bulge and flex as he pouts, Griffin’s hitherto ability to resist the man begins to wane. Alfred’s words echo in his head as he makes one final retreat, is it so wrong to chase one’s desires?

“Just give me half an hour ba- dude,”

As soon as he stomps out of the apartment, Griffin frantically begins research on the tome he found. Given his best queries are along the lines of ‘magic book transform man’ the best he finds are little more than fetish stories scattered across the internet. Kicking himself for not even taking a picture of the strange book, he miraculously stumbles across a long abandoned forum describing a situation shockingly similar to his own.

Unfortunately for the original poster, all replies seem to be at his expense. ‘R u sure ur not just misremembering ur best friend lmao’ ‘this thread is for casting spells not fanfic dipshit’ ‘g bacck to ur fetish sight perv’ Seeing the clock tick onward, Griffin starts to scheme an escape through his bathroom window before he stumbles across the sole helpful commenter. ‘Maybe check old photos of you two? Idk- feel like magic n tech don’t usually play nice?’

The poster didn’t reply to this but Griffin doesn’t care, it’s the only idea he has. Alfred will have to believe him! If he just shows him a picture of how he was that’ll surely break the spell. Or perhaps it would have been. 

As Griffin’s attention falls to his cameral roll, it seems whatever grim wish-fulfilling powers that be are precisely one step ahead. Tapping onwards, he sees the ichorous dark ink seeping in from the edges of his screen. Desperately racing against something faster than light as his phone heats up in his hands, he watches as once innocuous images of his best friend warp and shift. 

Just as he witnessed in reality, still images of his best friend are rapidly superimposed with the new horny beast he has become. Group photos part as the man takes up far more space. Outfits strain against his heavy pecs as ink comes and goes, ever-morphing Alfred into the perfect man for Griffin. Whether he wants that or not.

In no time at all every candid or commemorative photo of the Alfred he once knew is changed into a thirst trap. A photo sent to him to show off his gains, to sate his needs, to get him ready for the real thing coming sooner than he could hope. As he watches his history with his best friend slowly spiral down the drain as swirling ink struggles to convince him this is the true visage of his lover, he feels some cold resolve finally triumph over his lusts.

He was foolish, tricked, but he will not allow himself to benefit from the man he loved being erased. When he hears the front door open once more and more pressingly, when he smells the man’s heavy musk approaching, he steels himself. 

Alfred calls out as he approaches Griffin’s bedroom, “Ready babe? Cooked up some pit stink for ya, I know how much you love it when I work up a sweat.” Every word is even deeper, somehow loaded with lust in a way that makes Griffin start sweating. 

Almost kicking open the bedroom door, Alfred enters pit forward, as promised. Faced with a cock literally made for him, Griffin’s mind washes over with an existential need to let the adonis have his way with him. But in the end, despite every fraying nerve within him vibrating with lust, with desire, even as he’s physically pulled close to a man nothing less than perfect for himself; Even as his hands rest against heaving pecs trickling with sweat, he resists.

“We’re going to figure this out Alfred, I’m sorry for what I did to you.”

The room vibrates and lights flicker just as they did when he unwittingly cast that spell. At the same time, Alfred groans in irritation, “Ugggghh! God, I didn’t want to have to do this. But I actually made a quick trip while you were douching or whatever. Dunno what it was but something was pulling me. And unlike someone I know when it’s best to just follow your urges.”

Griffin knows exactly what Alfred’s about to produce before he does so, and when his eyes once more fall upon the book, he realizes it doesn’t matter if he resists or not. With no input from Alfred, the book opens to the exact same page as earlier, only now it holds not only the image of the stud before him, but a reflection of himself. 

Lines readjust on the page as Alfred’s will begins to enact itself upon the world, just as Griffin’s did not an hour ago. As his representation on papyrus grows and changes, so too does his form outside the book. Looking down at his shaking hands he sees the very same ink that danced across Alfred and corrupted his phone work its way across him. Trailing up veins throbbing thicker and ballooning his arms into thick biceps, he feels his resistance begin to shatter. 

It’s made all the easier as the thick paint decorating and contorting his body into something nearing perfection feels immeasurably good. Groaning as it encircles his crotch and paints new forests of hair into his pits and on his sharpening jaw, Griffin wonders how he could ever oppose something as clearly benevolent as this wondrous book’s grand work.

In the midst of his evolution he realizes there is no need at all to not start vigorously making use of Alfred who can scarcely believe how good it feels to finally get what it feels like he was made for. As after all, the pair were solely crafted for each other.

Alfred tears off whatever scraps of clothes remain on Griffin’s body as he does his best to outgrow them. Ink flits between their two bodies as they sweat all over each other, smearing and shifting as who and what they are changes by the moment. Thick beards and thicker pubes scratch against each other as they achieve delight and fulfillment greater than either believed they had in store.

Settling into their new, still-ephemeral bodies, or perhaps into the single self they may as well be, Alfred and Griffin lack any care to even begin to investigate the strange book that sits on the floor in their bedroom. What need have they to read, what need have they of anything besides each other? Lacking the interest to do anything but follow those most primal of urges, the lovers stumble into a lucrative business in porn and make the most of the bodies they have been blessed with.

Eventually when the book disappears they don’t notice that it’s gone, having barely been aware it was there to begin with. After all, their shared lives together are nothing more than their own wishes made manifest. They have need of nothing besides each other, who cares about some stupid book neither of them. It’s work being done, it’s more than happy to lie in wait for some other fool with hasty wishes, and a predisposition to ignore consequences.

[derekwriteskink]

Life as his uniform

When I turned 18, I discovered my ability, I was at a friends house, when I went to the bathroom I thought about how much I would like to be his clothes, it was in that moment that I felt my body changing, I felt softer and my view point shrunk down to the ground, I hadn’t locked the door, my friend walked in, I saw him towering above me, I was confused, “Oh sweet, he left a Chelsea uniform for me”. He began to strip, after a short while he stood naked above me, he stared at me, his hand reached for my waist, I was lifted off the ground and I was helpless as he pulled over his legs, I felt an overwhelming sense of pleasure as he pulled me over his crotch and ass, I felt his huge cock rubbing against mine, as if he was lying on top of me naked, I could feel his plump ass brushing against my own, I knew exactly what I was - helpless blue football shorts, I could hear my friend’s pleasant moans as he caressed mine and his waists.

He then reached for my left foot and leg, I felt his hairy, muscular leg lying heavily on top of my own, his foot pressed against my own, I knew that he saw me as thigh high blue socks, just as I imagined in my fantasies, he pulled my right sock body on, I could now feel every part of him from his feet to just above his waist pressing against me.

He reached for my long sleeves blue Chelsea shirt torso and I felt his muscular chest lying on top of me, in that moment I felt something changing as my perspective changed, I felt my powerful muscles and the tight uniform on me, I had turned into my friend, I looked in the mirror, I saw my new dark brown eyes and handsome face looking back at me, I was so happy, I could hear my friend’s quiet moaning in the back of my mind, as he was helplessly trapped as gear on my new body, he grew louder as I caressed my new crotch.

I wore him for 12 hours straight, when I undressed, his body returned to him, he kneeled obediently before me as he held my legs, desperate to feel useful, his mind had been altered into a perfect submissive, I directed him to stand up and follow me to the mirror, I glanced at myself, I looked similar to my previous self, but my face and body were somewhat altered, I looked leaner and stronger, my hair had darkened slightly, my eyes were a bit darker and I looked more handsome, in a way that resembled my friend. My new slave and I had a long and passionate road ahead of us and I couldn’t have been happier.

[tfkinksterz]

Ben was overjoyed to see a new Spidey costume under the tree. Not even knowing who it was from, he suited up, feeling way too excited to be wrapped in the tight spandex, and just like that I had him. Now he’ll never take it off until I deactivate his programming and tell him to, and that will only be to have the formerly straight-laced Ben let me fuck him. Now that I know my prototype works, these suits are going to start showing up at all the secret closeted spandex kinksters houses this Christmas! Ben here loves his!

[tfkinksterz]

Wow, of all the bodies I’ve borrowed, this one’s gotta be the most handsome by far. The way my powers work, it’s sometimes hard to find a new host. I have to turn myself into an article of clothing to then be tried on, and once I’m on, I swap with the wearer, I get their body and they become clothing. I figured somebody on this gay beach would want to put on a random bright green Speedo found in the changing rooms, and I’m glad this cutie was the one to be perverted enough to do so. I think I’m gonna keep this body forever, and he can be my lucky green Speedo to wear all the time. I’m sure he’ll learn to like it. He looks great on me.

[tfkinksterz]

Must be quite a trip, looking up at your own body while you melt, motionless, in a form you could never comprehend would be possible to end up in. You must be so confused. Probably already forgot what literally just happened to you. You can’t really think much, now that your mind is liquid, just like all of you is now. Let me put it into terms what’s left of you can understand. I used my powers to absorb into your body, and quickly rubbed one out, splooging over the edge of the bibs you’d been wearing, and in that load of jizz was all of the information that made you, you. I just ejaculated you out of your own body. You’re just a puddle of rapidly cooling semen on the floor now. You gotta admit, your body looks good from this angle, huh? Yeah, that’s why I stole it from you, loser. There’s only room in this vessel for one of us. So now I’m gonna step on the glob you’ve become, with your own foot in your own shoes, push you into this shower drain over here, and assume your place in the race, and in the world as a whole. I’m the new you. You’re just a wad of discarded cyclist cum. Bye, loser!

*SPLLLOOORCH*

[tfkinksterz]

Hahaha here, let’s look in this mirror, bro, so you can see your new form. The guy that taught me this magic spell to transform people into any object I want, told me you’d still be able to see, even with no eyes, and you see in 360° now! How cool is that? I don’t know if your dumbass has noticed yet, bro, but you’re not my tights. These are the first guy I used the spell on. You’re the second. You’re not my tights, you’re the exercise ball I’m sitting on! Hahaha how’s that feel, you bouncy inflated dumbass? Good? I bet. This is your life now, this is your purpose. My big, shiny blue ball to bounce my sweaty ass on and do my core workouts with. And you belong to everyone at this gym now, but I’m gonna make sure I choose you every time. Get used to being a ball!