About me: 23 yo gay male. I'm a furry and quite kinky. And I have a short and slim bodytype

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@justasillyfox
About me: 23 yo gay male. I'm a furry and quite kinky. And I have a short and slim bodytype
Doggone Holiday
Agreeing to go on a holiday with Matty was an exercise in temptation.
He's my best friend since forever. He's my ride or die and didn't even bat an eye after I came out to him a couple years ago. He's also hot as fuck, and worse, he knows it.
Matty's never been outright cruel. He can be vain and cocky to a fault, but he's never been mean. But even though he's 100% straight - which he's told me, and is supported by his revolving bedroom door - he's more than comfortable enough in his ample masculinity to show off the goods for me whenever I'm around.
Cheeky pec bounces when he catches me staring, parading around shirtless in our hotel room, sending me pics from the sauna. Just now he made a show of flexing his guns for me and asking me to feel it up, so I could tell him if it still feels toned enough after working out at the hotel gym.
I'm not sure what I was thinking of or hoping for when this random woman stopped me on the way back from the pool, telling me how she knew I wanted things to change between us, that she could make it a reality. She pressed a small amulet into my palm and told me it had one wish left.
By the time I got back to our rooms, Matty was already there, texting on his phone. He'd towelled off and pulled on a pair of shorts that barely did anything to cover him up.
"Alright," he said. "I've got a hot date lined up with this chick. Don't wait up if I'm out past midnight, I'm defs looking to pull tonight."
I looked at him.
What would he look like without his cockiness, his innate confidence in being the hottest man in any room? What would he look like eager to please and doting? Not just the perfect boyfriend, but...
I made a wish. "I wish Matty was my perfect golden retriever boyfriend."
Not even a moment later, Matty looked up from his phone, gaped at me in shock, and then grinned. And pounced.
I thought that the girls he brought home were playing it up, but no. He's really just that good in bed.
Anyway, this isn't exactly how I pictured my wish going, but I got what I wanted. The new Matty is a much more physical creature, but I don't think I've made him any dumber, just... more attuned to his instincts. And those instincts involve being around me and being a good boy.
I'm kinda growing to like the way he keeps sticking his tongue out. It's endearing.
Equivalent Exchange
Hey, bro, come on in to my office.
Yeh, it's me, haha. Your profession... er, processor- teacher, dude.
What do you mean no way? Just cause I'm fucking MASSIVE now doesn't make me any less of a nerd, bro.
Uhh, what? Say that again. Uhh, "Quantum... Proba- Probability... Manipulation?" What the hell does that mean?
Oh, duh, it's what I teach. Maybe getting jacked did knock a few wires loose up here, huh huh... check out my guns, and my muscletits. Wanna cop a feel?
Uhh, I don't remember too much dude. Had one of my students come in, doing his... defence? Like football? Yeah, thesis defence, that fucking thing. It's kinda hazy, but I think I was nodding along, and then he wrote this long ass equation on the board.
And after he pulled his hand away, the equation kept going and going. Yeah, it was totally writing itself bro! Was fucking crazy. Anyway, it started out super fast, but I got really distracted since everything started getting too tight. I think I burst out of my clothes a bit, huh huh, and then I ripped the rest of them off. And then when I looked at the board, it was full of whatever the fuck these are called, and I was like... totally huge. And horny.
Still am. Wanna give me a hand?
HIMBO ZOMBIES
This was a commission that is set in the same world as Brad and Topher! it takes a much different route and vibe to my normal but I had had fun writing it for you guys so i hope you all enjoy it! If anyone is looking for horny gay erotic fiction feel free to dm me for details on Comms!!! I really appreciate the love and support you guys give my content.
____________
It was any other normal day when it happened, when the world changed. It was like any other day when the men in our lives all became a mindless, ravenous horde that would stop at nothing to feast on our flesh. For their mouths to search and find the most sensitive and vital parts of our bodies and sink down onto them. Sucking us dry, their cocks like heat seeking missiles aimed right for every hole, pheromones that drive a man mad with lust and insatiable need and cum…cum that converts you into a monster. It could take the twinkiest, or most average man, and within minutes, no seconds they would start GROWING, muscles PULSING with energy as they expanded, certain body parts were exaggerated, asses, cocks, balls, pecs and lips were enhanced to proportions that would be impossible without steroids and plastic surgery. It was the beginning of the end and the worst part about all of it, is that we don’t even know how it started.
(Phillip)
My name was Phillip, me and my group were survivors of this fucked up horny gay apocalypse. It had been a solid few months of escaping athletic, horny running himbos and sex addicted zombies but we had finally found a warehouse, somewhere safe to call home. It was just me, Phillip 19, absolutely straight, played football all through high school and got a scholarship to my dream university. I was 6 foot 5 with wide shoulders, bulging biceps, trim waist and sadly for me in the apocalypse (and in the gym where I’d get the wrong attention) a big juicy bubblebutt and massive thunderthighs. It clapped as I ran, no matter how much compression ware I’d put on, and even when I was quietly moving, those big dicked HOMBIES (its what we call em) seemed to sense it, searching for me like I was carrying a beacon. If my girlfriend hadn’t been transformed into one of them during the initial outbreak she’d be laughing her ass off.
I was on my way back to our warehouse with Eric, a shy nerd. He wouldn’t ever really tell me much about who he was before but I got enough glances from him on the road and when everyone was laying down and getting undressed for the night to know he was a fairy. I had nothing against gay or queer folk. Or at least I don’t think I fuckin did before this weird zombie shit started happening, now it feels like his wondering eyes over my muscled physique are a threat. That he takes one look at my pillowey pecs with his mouth watering, that he's going to lunge on top of me, rip off my pants with his lanky, twinky strength and bounce up and down with his tight cute ass- fuck I need to find some bitch to lay I fantasizing over one of my crew.
(Eric)
That's the other problem, while women aren’t naturally infected like men, and we believed them to be safe at the beginning. They started off as vectors, carriers of the virus with no symptoms. Guys who would be cozied up with their female partners during lockdown would suddenly catch the virus after an intimate moment and start craving ass and dick more than they ever craved pussy. It was crazy. But slowly and I do mean slowly, it got worse for women, they all started changing into big buff burly men. Himbos obsessed with turning men into himbos or HOMBIES as Eric had coined them.
It was just me, Eric, Thomas, Wayne and Zayne now. We had split from the other crew after our camp got raided, fearing what might have happened to them but knowing there was no way of immediately helping them if we got fucked stupid by the hombies too. We were diligent after, checking everyone for bites, cum stains and winking holes before moving on. We found the warehouse and now we were set. Me and Eric managed to navigate the city and get food and water while the other three fixed up our new home.
But it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows otherwise I wouldn’t be writing this to you. Zayne and Wayne were identical twins, they probably played Hockey with their builds, They had decent shoulders and chest like me, but god were their asses just fatter than mine, probably hitting abductors daily. If they weren't men I absolutely would have tapped that. They had tan skin, with brown hair and highlights that looked perfectly fluffy even in the apocalypse. Thomas however was some oddball punk. I would have called him goth except he didn't wear makeup, he had pale skin, black hair, a few tattoos going up and down his arms. Wore a lot of leather in his pants and his tight white shirts hugged his trim muscular build so well. It's like if they put Brendan Urie into a muscle machine honestly.
(Zayne and Wayne)
That run out into the city had made me so hot and sweaty. I felt so fucked and sore and I know it was just because we hadn’t stopped scavenging since cumm-coming here. I couldn't wait to rest my head on a nice pair of pillowey pecs- PILLOWS I meant pillows.
Zayne immediately greeted us “Bros so glad you got back safe!” He gave me a bro-slap hug and gave Eric a fist bump. Looking him over with his lantern jaw and bright dumb jock smile I could see why he and his brother pulled so well before, they had shared a number of stories of the previous times. I HAD ALWAYS PICTURED THEM… I mean pictured the babes they banged.
“Yeah me too, me and Eric ran into this big giant oaf, he had to be seven feet tall dude I think that virus is mutating or something!” I quickly say using my hands to gesture how wide that creature's frame was. I had such a vivid memory of the muscles, how they moved. My brain at the time couldn’t stop thinking about how they would feel. The way its cock had swung back and forth like a giant pendulum was mou-shocking. I shook my head. That wasn't a normal thought.
“It makes logical sense, a virus will mutate and get smarter or more infectious the longer its around to pass around and survive… I think it's just crazy something could cause the averag-” Before he could continue nerd gooning out Zayne stops him.
“Dude its all good we get it, freak virus turns a bunch of bros into magic fag zombies, im just glad no one here got infected in that last raid.” He’s leading us through the warehouse. Locking the main entrance down. It would take a solid minute for anyone to burst through the dozen metal locks and wooden beams in the way of it. Hell it takes us a while to undo it all on our side. We place our supplies all in the middle and everyone talks amongst themselves. Eric is muttering something about the understanding should be important for our survival but I don’t even bother to listen.
“ Yeah no the longer I go without being one of those cock obsessed freaks the better!” I say as we get settled into the compound, Thomas had been changing out of his tight shirt, exposing his carved abs and the waistband of his boxer briefs. The way they hugged his waist was just sinful, no man should have such a slutty little waist with hips you could just want to grab. I had to stop myself from staring, my cock was getting hard. Wayne was doing the same on the other side of the floor, getting into some new pants, his jockstrap framed his hockey butt perfectly, the idea of all of this jock meat around was so tantalizing.
At that point Eric had taken out his device, he had made it early on in the apocalypse with his fellow grad bio students or whatever. It was some sort of tracer or alert system of the virus, after every run or separation we turned it on. It would tell us if it sensed someone in the area with the infection, it wouldn’t say what or who just that there was, so we tried to remain calm.
But when it started beeping, we all looked around at each other, and subconsciously I panicked, my stomach twisting and turning as my addled horny brain went against my humanity. Because I had to make sure I wasn't the one who got thrown out, because I was so hungry and there was just so much cum to be had here.
How It Started
_______________
My mouth was gliding up and down his larger, better, girthier shaft. His precum should have been drowning me as it flowed like a waterfall down my throat as it milked him dry. But after hours of swallowing his load and my gag reflex utterly destroyed by just the thought of Sirs..I mean Brayden’s dick it was no shock that I could handle this. The last few months had been a blur of nonstop fucking, our lives completely paused outside this room as we explored each others bodies. Social media accounts and only fans had been set up immediately by Brayden, realizing that neither of us would want to leave the other's presence and the sheer thought of not riding his cock every hour killed me made it the obvious choice for our new income.
Today it was a simple video, Brayden coming up behind me (Barely clothed because I just preferred that) as I was doing the dishes, His hard heavy cock bulging out of his Versace underwear as he pressed it into the curve of my back. It was firmly hot dogged in place, while his pillowey pecs were warm on my back and neck, his head resting on top of mine as his arms found their way onto my waist. His mouth briefly kissed the top of my head as I craned my head back, eyes closing feeling this safe warm feeling. I know he took a deep whiff, our musk had become the biggest turn on for each other, just a quick sniff of it, (especially from the pitts) and we could go for hours. His head moved down to whisper sweet nothings in my ear, our viewers enjoyed this side of the content, this soft relationship, the truth, I think because it gave them something to strive for. To think that months ago this never would have happened, absolutely insane.
“Mmm good morning baby!” His voice is calm, and sweet, I can tell my giant, sexy nerd is happy to see me up and keeping the place clean. His cock getting harder, trapped behind expensive fabric, begging to fuck me in every way possible.
“Good Morning to you Sir!” I say, my eyes opening as I gently lay the dish I was cleaning down, quickly turning to look up at him, batting my eyes as his hands rested on the small of my back. I felt both our cocks press against each other before I started slowly grinding mine into his. Hearing these soft little moans from his beautiful lips only encouraged me to continue as he looked deep into my mischief filled eyes.
“Someone’s horny this morning!” He says, it's when his hands dropped to cup my ass that a thrill was sent through my body, strong hands kneading at my bubble butt like he was making dough. His sweet words turning into a deep growl, this need to make me overtake any other desire he has as his hands get possessive, quickly, faster than I can think now. He raises one hand and gives my right cheek a swat. My bubble butt immediately jiggles, flesh rippling like when a stone is tossed in a pond. Bouncing up and down, I have to bite my lip to stop myself from moaning. I know he’s leaking in his briefs, I can smell it, and I have to lick my lips.
I trace my hand across his chest, teasing his nipple as I travel across his gorgeous abs, letting it just rest on top of his crotch. We were still grinding into each other, his moans hadn't stopped and his hands only got more possessive of my ass. I let my fingers into his soaking briefs, slowly but firmly gripping the base of his cock.
“Talk about horny, you're already grabbing my dick!” He smiled down at me, or maybe it was a smirk, all I really knew was that I was going to suck this man dry.
“I can't help it Sir, I just need you so bad.” I feel his hands leave my ass as the word Sir just pushes him past the point of control. We learned pretty quickly after our change that us calling each other certain things (SIR, MASTER, DADDY, GOOD BOY, SLUT) made our minds fog up in a horny daze. Like the other word pulsed through us, made it harder to think as our minds were rewired in that moment for one thing and one thing only. SEX.
He cocks his head at me, eyes glazing over as unbeknownst to us our MUSK PULSES and ignites around us, maybe it's his last thought before he becomes a mindless sex demon but he smirks and in a deep growl. “I bet you need my cock SLUT, and you're going to get it like the GOOD BOY you are!” Saying two in a row as I feel my brain pop and fry. Every thought except for the man in front of me turns into bubbles popping away as my Hole aches from emptiness. My mouth watering, desperate to be filled and my nose taking a deep whiff of the intoxicating air surrounding us. He lightly presses his hand down onto my shoulder and I drop like a sack of potatoes.
The world faded further, my ability to speak disappearing. My own name was the last thing I held as I moaned, my own cock throbbing with need as we stayed in place, his shadow casting dominance through me.
No will to stand against him as he towers over me, flexing his biceps, letting that beautiful, earthy stench roar from his pits. His cock tenting his briefs, harder than steel as it soaks the fabric and drenched my fingers. I'd have waited years if he needed me to, sure every second without it down my throat, or thrusting in my ass, was agony. But so was the idea of disobedience. When he pulled his underwear down by its waist band and let it fall, that's when the frenzy hit, that's when that mouth watering temptation broke my mind again.
Sir’s FUCKSTICK slapped up his abs and down my face, swinging with the weight and force of a bronze pendulum. Precum flung across my cheek and lip as it ***THWACKED*** against my flesh. Swinging back and forth, dicknotizing me further into submission as I saw my prize, I couldn't even hear master anymore. No he was speaking but my conscious mind was gone, that layer of thought, that shield of protection from suggestions gone and in its wake an open reception to command. Obedience in its purest truest form.
His fingers traced my plump lips, the index, curious, moved in and parted them. My mouth took to him like how I needed air, desperate to breathe him in and take what I could. When he moved a second in I couldn't stop myself from moaning around them. Eyes rolling back as he thrusted in and out, the sensation of him taking up space in me, my god it sent me into overdrive, my hands diving onto him, caressing his thighs up and down. Making my way eventually up and onto his muscled cheeks, his ass perfect in every way, bouncy, tan and begging to be played with in some way. Hands kneading it, grabbing as much as I can like the glutton I was.
Sir's words kept pouring into my mind whether it was praise or he was calling me dirty, desperate, horny SLUT I don't know. All I know is at one point he uses his other hand to pull me away by my hair,forcing me to peer up into those eyes.
“Let's really get some use out of those lips Fag, SUCK NOW!” It was like a divine order, his eyes, his mouth, his words all saying the same thing. It's how I found myself fucking my own throat on his cock, gliding up and down on it. Head bobbing as his veiny, muscular hands took control, my eyes blank staring directly into his like nothing else mattered. My nose smashing against his pubes any chance I could get to breathe deep into his musk. I could live there forever fucking myself stupid and his cock nestled in one of my holes. Correction, his holes, he owned those holes, he owned me. I was just a hole, just a hole, just a hole for sir. My throat vibrated with moans as I milked his cock for all his precum.
I don’t know how long he let me suck him, could have been minutes, hours or days, all I knew was at a certain point he pulled out, a trail of precum oozing from his cock to my lips a giant plop was heard. “MMmm your throats so good for my cock fag.” Another word echoes in my mind, those thoughts from before aren’t just gone under a blanket of lust, they are eviscerated slowly, mouth open drooling with my tongue fully out. Gooning now to the idea of sucking him dry, my throat milking master for everything he is worth. My moans vibrating around his cock i can tell he is getting close, his balls are pulling up, getting tighter as they fill with cum, with nirvana, the closest thing to ambrosia humanity could think of. Sloshing around waiting as he uses his cock as a battering ram into my throat distending it, his balls slapping me in the face.
“FAG, pull off! I have somewhere better..to..uh..to deposit this load!” His eyes are closed, head tilted back but lips cocked in that winning smile, I felt the word fag ring through me and had to listen. Pulling off of him but staying on my knees, staring up at him with my mouth partially parted drool slowly dripping, back arching. Subconsciously I knew this is what the viewers wanted.
I felt him pull me by the hair to my feet, his body framing mine as he pinned me against the kitchen island, his cock IMMEDIATELY grinding against my hole. “You want it don't you faggot? You want to be my lil bitch? Want me to breed that slutty hole of yours!” The feeling of his precum- saliva soaked cock going up and down my cheeks against my hole throwing me past the edge. His hands moving to my chest feeling up my pectorals while whispering into my ear too much. My cock shooting load after load onto the marble counter tops, my vision going blurry as my brain short circuits, he's rutting against me.
“Please, please, please please PLEASE breed me Daddy… DADDY DADDY my faggy hole needs you. Im a slut for you daddy please fuck me.”I'm begging him now, master was in total control, not just of the pace, or the fucking but of me, he was in total control of me and I was going to give him everything. The feeling of his hands going across my skin, one traveling to my neck and gently gripping it applying light pressure as his other travels down. Worshipping my body as it finally finds my ass, gripping my cheeks toying with them as his cock teased me.
“Mmm yeah, yeah you're gonna be mine, only mine slut, say it say your mine!” His words ringing out, that musky cloud surrounding us as he glides his cock up and down the cleft of my cheeks, the shaft fully teasing my hole. I let out a whimper screaming I'm his, begging for him to take me, his hand spanking my cheeks before pulling back his massive cock swinging… and then lining up perfectly, his head right against my hole.
The pressure building against it is hell, I want to thrust back into him, my cheeks wobbling from anticipation. But his hands around my throat, fully in control, my mind listening to him and not me. “Good boy!” the scruff of his beard tickles me and he slams into my hole breaking the pressure and sending me howling.
The sheer force causes my cheeks to ripple, his thrusts are just as strong and long as his throat fucking. Rough and perfect as he smashes into my prostate with no care in the world, all of his double digits sliding into me and my vision blurs again, another hands free orgasm rushing out of my cock. The weight of his chest against my back sends a warm familiar pulse through me. The musk is getting heavier and heavier. IN and OUT repeatedly as he moans and groans. IN and OUT as he rearranges my guts and he points my face towards the camera. I feel his breath getting heavier as he tells me to beg for it. IN and OUT as I yell it out and he's so close.
The musk overpowers both of us as I feel him release. A Niagara falls level of cum rushes through me, my eyes rolling back as my hole milks him for all he's worth and I can't hold on any more, cumming my brains out, in bliss and full submission.
______
I don't know when me and Brayden finally woke up from our kitchen fuck, or when he moved us to the living room but I did know I loved waking up with my face buried in his armpit. Him and his musk were perfect, strong and all consuming, it was making me horny all over again. Brayden was playing with my hair looking down at me.
“You know you are perfect right?” His words were so clear and rang true. He thought I was perfect so I had to be perfect. He had this goofball golden retriever smile and eyes that lit up my whole world. Why wouldn't I believe it?
“Well you are more perfect I'll tell you that much sir!” I say lightly teasing, I felt his cock jump and throb against my thigh.
“WOW, no no not so soon, even if it is tempting!” His voice is stern, but so sweet. I have to bite my lip as I pout.
“Why not, what do we even have to do today?!” I was not even sure what day it was.
“Sweetie we've been fucking like rabbits for three months, hell even during the move to our new place we fucked. I just… I want to do something real, and couple-y you know. I want to take you out, show you off!” He was beaming down at me, being so vulnerable and honest. I had to let him have this didn't I. Okay one more try to stay in and get my brains railed out of me. The musk in the air was so heavy and thick. It would probably waft off us when we left the house. I remember when we moved to this nicer apartment all of the movers had this glassy look and were basically mindless and did whatever we said. It was really hot.
“I mean I get it but why does it have to be tonight? We could stay in and watch a movie!” It was a genuine offer, a real one and I was okay if he pushed more for his.
“Steve I'm serious, we should go out and see a movie, listen I know you were gay before this but, but I wasn't. So I want to actually show this off, be who we are and have fun!” I don't know what it is but hearing my own name, something that should have been so normal but had escaped my mind for a long time snapped me back into focus. His enthusiasm was hard to ignore so I said yes and we got dressed. Sure both of our wardrobes were slutty but we did clean up nice. We would be turning heads in the cool October air as we went to the theater with me in blue denim booty shorts and a simple black crop top showing off all my muscles.
Meanwhile the love of my life wore a tight fitted white tee that showed off the curve of his yummy pecs, a beautiful gold chain that glowed against his perfect skin. His long jeans could barely contain his bulging crotch but he made up for it with a leather jacket that took some of the attention away. We were going to see some dumb superhero movie he wouldn't shut up about but I was genuinely excited. We held either hands or he had his arm around me and kissed me the entire way, my heart beating a mile a minute.
The theater was crowded, probably the busiest it had been in the last year. Every seat filled, every person staring ahead. I promise I tried to pay attention I really did but one of the hot men with dark hair and rippling muscles came onto the screen. I felt it, my hole twitching, that feeling of need, and I also promised I didn't want to bother my boyfriend, my lover. But it wasn't even me who notified him, it was the musk, that feeling of need I had PULSED out of me. Musk began to pour out of me as I felt my whole body shudder and Brayden took a deep inhale. His legs spreading, his cock twitching, threatening to tear its way out of his jeans. Denim holding on for dear life as it began to strain.
I didn't notice the other people I didn't care about, my hand already slowly gone over his thigh. Gliding along the strained material and meaty muscle till my palm landed on his crotch. Hard, leaking through his denim as I slowly groped him. His own arm raised, musk rushing from his pits as his hand found my chest, going under my crop top and teasing my nipples. I could tell he was biting his lip, that he was holding back a moan. Maybe trying to find and keep some level of decorum, to still watch the movie, but i was so horny, so hungry, hungry for him. Hungry for his lips, his sweat, his muscles, his COCK HIS CUM. He wanted to show me off, then he would get to show me off exactly as I was. He wanted to bite back moans, sure we could do that together.
I moved myself over onto his seat, my hips straddling his lap as I moved my lips right next to his ear. “Daddy, please daddy I need you, I've been trying to be a good boy daddy, but im so naughty and need to be taught a lesson. Daddy pleasee!” I was grinding my ass against his bulge, me calling him daddy over and over again as the word beat itself into his head and fried his brain, that look of lust and domination taking over. That same hunger, hunger for me, for my body, my throat and ass were so strong. I felt him grab me by the back of his head and pull me into a kiss to “quiet down” his moaning with my moaning mouth. The feeling of lust, unbidden horny sluttiness carried into the air as I let myself become the slut I was in public.
With our lips occupied, the moans in the air couldn’t be ours, no they were the men in the theater. Each one getting incredibly hard, aroused and desperate, women who had come for a fun night out either ran to complain, letting the pheromones and musk wafting off them seek out other male hosts. Or the ones who stayed behind enjoyed the show, joining in where they could as men ripped off their clothes. The magic musk sparking and igniting as men's flesh and muscle started reconfiguring. Becoming big, beefy himbos, their minds melting as the desire, no the NEED for cock, cum and as invaded their minds.
I pulled my lips free from Daddy looking him in his half lidded eyes as his hands found my ass and started tearing a hole in my pants. “Daddy Fuck ME!”
His cock broke free from their denim prison, soaking wet in pre, lined up perfectly between my thick cheeks begging to be fucked. “Whatever you say Faggot!” his voice gruff, and the final spark for the wild magic s a gigantic pulse rippled through us and the air. Creating a permanent crazed virus into the atmosphere. The movie in the background was still rolling, but no one paid much attention, the had bigger problems to worry about.
___________ Present apocalypse.
“Dude what the fuck someones infected!” I immediately jumped into accusations, i needed to fuck, I needed to cum, i needed their cum. I couldn’t do any of that if they locked me out.
“Everyone calm down, whoever is infected yet isn’t fully turned were all safe we just… just gotta get rid of em!” Wyne says, looking between all of us. Thomas was antsy, Eric was staring daggers at everyone and Zayne, with his meaty, thick, mouth watering package was just as dumb and clueless as ever.
“We don’t know that for certain, its mutating it could be a-” Before Eric can logic or think I strike.
“Oh shut it fag, its totally him, he’s been eyeing me the entire scavenging trip, I see him licking his lips everytime I change!” It was so harsh. So cruel, but I had to get rid of the intelligence, they all had to be turned and if Eric was sticking around he’d snuff me out or help them.
“Phillip what the fuck are you- i’m not..i’m gay but im no-” That was enough to make Wayne and Zayne uncomfortable, perfect. There was a thought amongst men at the beginning of this “virus” that gay men were super spreaders doing it on purpose, but it wasn’t all true. Sure some gay men willingly flung themselves into the masses of roaming orgies, muscles, cum and cock but that didn’t make them inherently infected. It was good old fashioned homophobic propaganda, and it was their downfall again.
“Dude, your gay, your like already one of them dude, you fuckin lied to us!” Wayne was upset, clenching his fist, Thomas, the punk rocker that he was, wasn't nearly as homophobic. He was trying to calm them down but these two jocks were angry enough to keep interrupting him. God it was hot I had to bite my lip and pray that my baggy, long shirt hid the beginnings of my raging hard on. I could feel it growing because of the infection. It was getting bigger, longer, thicker, NEEDIER. It had to fuck, it had to cum it had to BREED more people.
“Not cool bro, we’ve literally showered together in the locker room. Even if you aren't infected we can’t trust you man!” That had to hurt when Zayne said it to Eric. I know he had the hots for him, because I also had the hots for him. I’d love to spend hours, using my tongue to lap up and worship those sweaty smelly pits. Feeling his musk coat my body head to toe as we become enraptured in each other's scent and flesh.
They keep talking, their words unable to be deciphered by me. I was so horny, so lost in my head as I thought about what I want to do, how I want to do it. If I wanted to get them, I'd have to use my pheromones. The infected had this weird musk and pheromone that they put out from their sweat and other bodily fluids. It drove men's libidos up, trapping them in a haze of lust.
Something I needed these men to be in, I could feel my hairy armpits tingle, pulsing lightly with power as they began to work overtime. I could already see the men's noses twitch. Normally when my bro's and I had started smelling pheromones we would have stopped everything we were doing, done a search and or just ran away. But they were too busy and their loss was my gain. Their bodies began to sweat as the screaming match got to a head. They were breathing heavy and deep, their noses and cocks twitching as they let their emotions get the best of em.
I could feel my musk wafting off and out of me, circulating around the men in the room. PULSING with deep, ancient primordial power as it slowly leads to them all becoming a little bit slower to react. This is the best part watching their eyes just slightly glaze over, their cocks harden against the fabric prisons of their underwear and pants. All with the knowledge that they just to themselves think it's the rage, and knowing that this is just the base layer, to infect them, for them to join the horde, they just need to be exposed to cum.
At some point in what became a screaming match Thomas had tried to say they couldn’t know who before they turned but Wayne had already grabbed Eric, throwing him, and with him the device out the door as Zayne locked it back up.
Eric had begun banging on the door as it was slowly locked, his twinky frame standing no chance of busting through.
“Guys, guys, please you . You are making a mistake. It's not, it's not me please let me.. let me in” he was crying, probably scared out of his mind, I'd have been sad for him if it didn't mean id be in his position if I didn't frame him. Lost without any cocks to suck.
“Shut it FAGGOT!” Zayne shouts as he fully finishes locking the door sealing their fate.
“Please, Wayne, Wayne please Thomas I won't make it out here, and whatever thing took over one of you… guys guys!!” he tries to shout it, but his voice is muffled and hard to understand through the crying. But his heaving and crying does stop and when it does I can't help but look at Thomas and see him second guess everything.
They're all distracted staring at the door, distracted enough for me to adjust myself. Distracted enough for me to shove my hands down my pants, and distracted enough for me to take my precum covered fingers and gently put my hand on the back of Wayne's neck. Causing him to shiver and jump with surprise. His body immediately pulsing, starting to feel on fire as I made contact with him and pre cum started entering through his pores.
Thank god for the twink’s last smash against the door to hide dear Wayne's last moan. I see the spark of the infection PULSE through him and he quickly creams his pants, eyes fully glazing over as he starts foaming at the mouth hungry for dick. He looks over at Thomas whose the first to react he tries to back away but the lithe punk rocker is no match for the athletic hockey player who throws himself on top of him, straddling his waist.
“Phillip..Phillip Bro what's going on.. WAYNE GET OFF HIm… bro Eric, Eric we were wrong!” Zayne looks at me, at his brother, with fear as he turns to the door to start trying to unlock it but I tackle him, my precum slick hand grabbing at his shoulder as I land face first into his clothed covered hockey butt. The fabric melting as my precum and saliva make contact with both articles of clothing standing in the way of his flesh.
“JOIN ME BRO!!” I moan as I use my other free hand to RIP off the rest of his pants exposing his perfectly round muscled bubble butt. Going commando in a gay sex apocalypse is such a choice. He moans in defiance, his voice harmonizing with Thomas as I part his cheeks, his raging cock leaking precum as my tongue finds his hole. Before long the begging for me not to change him turns into begging to ride my tongue, his cock growing longer as the infection starts to spread in him.
Thomas is bent over behind us, his ass being plowed by Wayne whose cock goes an inch every time he thrusts in and out. Seesawing Thomas into TOMMY the slut. I wath as my fellow Himbo Brothers moan and grow, their bodies PULSING with magic as I slowly tease Zayne closer to orgasm.
“Phill, phill please fuck me, fuck me DADDY PLEASE DADDY PHILL!” His voice was getting higher, needier as his hands quickly found the back of my head and mashed me against his giant cheeks. Bouncing back and forth on my face with reckless abandoned. His muscles flexing and growing as pounds of muscles inflated his arms, chest, ass and thighs. Meanwhile his waist trimmed down to little to no fat becoming a caricature of himself. The word Daddy ringing through my body as I became hungrier, my tongue reaching deeper then any human should.
Its when i felt his body tense that I knew his changes were dumb, his moans became higher until he tensed fully and just stopped, his once average cock growing from five inches to eight in manner of seconds as he came his brains and life away.
Tommy and Wayne weren’t far behind Tommy now with his legs strapped around Wayne’s neck. His body becoming more limber and flexible as Wayne whose grown hairier and thicker arms and shoulders, thrusts faster and faster. Their bodies reaching climax before cumming their brains out
My bros and I were ready to fuck the rest of our lives away, and couldnt wait till some more hot asses arrived, begging to be filled to the brim with our cum.
-_____________________
The Moaning behind the doors told me everything I needed to know, my friends had fallen to the gay erotic zombie virus. No they weren’t friends, they were homophobic jackasses Eric. Sure they were hot, but that doesn’t excuse what they said or did. I took my device and I ran, my clothes had been torn, I had literally nothing but I knew this might have been an outcome when I did what I did.
Phillip and I had been scavenging for hours before we took our first break, he was such an asshole, but a hot one and after months of surviving this plague. I had had enough. So when he took his nap and I took a watch, I took out a sample my old lab had gathered at the start of this virus. A culture of a zombies cum, perfectly preserved and such a terrible thing to keep hold of, but I was so so horny and so tired of this jackass. With his perfect smile and gigantic dump truck ass he was just wasting.
I had thought opening it and letting his hand touch the cum, it would infect him the easiest. And it was, his fingers grazing the cum as it seeped into him, almost like it had a mind of its own. I watched in fascination as this green pulse of energy raced through him. His skin became cleaner as blemishes disappeared, any scrapes or bruises healed themselves and his body began breathing faster, deeper.
His cock started raging in his pants, getting harder than steel as it grew past its normal length and girth. Going from a solid eight inches before almost ripping his pants off at a monster twelve. His underwear flooded with cream as his body readjusts in its slumber, mind most likely reeling as the physical changes took shape.
It was the earliest form of the virus so it didn’t mutate men into the true muscle freaks we see now. But if anyone were to see him with his pants off they’d know.
I tried to rationalize this decision, saying that I was just monitoring the changes, that I just wanted to infect him. But if that was the case why had I walked all the way back to our base with him. Why hadn’t I just told my fellow survivors immediately and it was simple.
It was hot seeing him change, and I just wish I got to see the others change too.
The end?
_________
there were some images and gifs lost to time and adhd sadly but they would have got this story flagged anyway so its not like I could post it anyway. XD love you guys!
That's it, that's such a good lil faggot bouncing back on my dick. Losing your mind each time you meet my thrust. Ass bouncing up and down, jiggling as I go harder and harder. Just let go, give in to the PULSE. You love the pulse, you love cock, you love cum. No more pussy, no more tits, just cock, balls, ass and cum. No more straight Tyler, just a cock whore waiting for load after load to fill his empty little mind.
Trash
Allen had wiped down his seat before sitting. He always did. A discreet antibacterial wipe from a tasteful leather folio tucked into his tote, one careful pass across the subway bench, then folded into thirds and pocketed until he could find a trash bin. He smoothed his tailored wool trousers beneath him as he sat, back straight, ankles crossed, iPhone held in two fingers with screen angled precisely away from strangers’ eyes.
He never touched the metal pole unless absolutely necessary. And if he did, it was pinky only. Elbow tight to the body. No contact unless contact was sanitized.
His boyfriend Evan teased him about it sometimes. "Allen," he’d say with that crooked grin, "if I died in a puddle of mustard on the subway floor, would you even touch me?"
Allen would smirk and say something like, “I’d mourn you from a safe distance.”
But there were lines. Standards. Hygiene wasn’t optional. Allen was thirty-four, gay, successful, and clean. Not just physically — aesthetically. His nails gleamed, buffed into a subtle matte finish. His skin was poreless, scrubbed each morning and night with products that cost more than most people's rent. He wore scent like punctuation: a single dab of vetiver oil behind the ears. Controlled. Masculine. Correct.
And then the boys got on the train.
He didn’t look up right away — just heard the stomp of sneakers, the damp rustle of athletic shorts, the low, drawling “Yo, yo, it’s packed in here” as one of them shoved onto the car with a duffel bag slung low. He smelled them before he saw them: a humid, sour stormcloud of gym sweat and cheap cologne. The funk of testosterone left too long in mesh laundry bags.
Allen looked up then, one eye twitching.
Five of them. Teens, maybe twenties. One shirtless. One wearing socks with slides. The largest had his cap on backwards and a slice of greasy pizza folded in one hand. Grease dribbled down his wrist as he laughed at something one of the others said.
Allen’s lip curled. He didn’t speak — not yet — but the thought formed like a poison in the center of his chest:
“Feral. Fucking animals.”
A beat.
Something fluttered.
A breeze, maybe? The train moved, sure — it always did — but something about the air shifted. Not outside. Inside. Around him.
He blinked. Tilted his head. Rubbed the bridge of his nose.
Weird.
He returned to his phone. Email from the agency. Concepts for the Chicago hotel redesign. He tried to focus, to dive into something familiar, clean, his world. But a pulse of nausea rose in his stomach. Like vertigo, or like something spoiled had passed beneath his nose.
Allen sniffed.
Was that…?
No. No, couldn’t be him. He showered this morning. Twice, actually — after his jog and again before the client call. His sweater was freshly laundered. His deodorant was aluminum-free and top-rated.
Still, the edge of something acrid lingered at the edges of his awareness.
He shifted. Felt the fabric of his sweater cling strangely beneath his arm. Damp?
He rolled his shoulders and froze.
The seam of the sweater — usually soft, cashmere and pristine — scratched at him now. And… something else. His armpits. They itched.
That didn’t happen. Not to him.
Allen blinked hard, resisting the urge to dig his fingers into the crook of his arm. He flexed his hand, trying to distract himself.
That’s when he noticed it.
His cuticle. Ragged. Slightly torn.
“What the…” he whispered.
He lifted his hand into the fluorescent light and frowned.
A hangnail.
But he always moisturized. Always filed. He kept a nail kit in his work bag — titanium, minimalist, German-made.
Allen reached for it instinctively — but paused. His fingers looked… different. Not the shape, not yet, but the surface. Dry. A little rougher.
His heart kicked once.
His reflection in the window caught his eye. For a second — just a flicker — he didn’t recognize himself.
The face was his, but tired. Pallid. A little more shadow beneath the eyes. The hair at his temples slightly darker than the sandy precision he maintained with salon appointments.
No. He was spiraling. He was making this up. Psychosomatic. He closed his eyes. Breathed in.
Bad idea.
He smelled it.
From him.
Sweat. Not strong. Not obvious. But raw. Male. Unearned. Cheap. The kind that crawled up from under shirts that hadn't been washed right. Or bodies that hadn’t. He sniffed again, slower this time.
His stomach turned.
That wasn’t someone else. That was him.
He reached under his arm — just for a second, just to check — and felt it: dampness. Real. Wet. His pits were sweating through cashmere.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, louder than he meant to.
The girl seated across the aisle glanced up. Allen caught her eye. Her bangs were dyed blue, she had some awful anime pin on her backpack. He sneered before he could help himself.
“God, does no one care about how they present anymore?”
He didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud.
The girl blinked. Took out one AirPod.
“Excuse me?”
Allen’s ears flushed. “Nothing,” he said quickly, eyes darting away.
Another flutter.
But now it was inside him. A sudden constriction in his lower gut, like something coiling around his pelvis. His thighs ached. He tried to adjust, but the seat felt smaller. His belt cut into his waist, his inner thighs rubbed.
Allen bit his lip and looked down.
His trousers didn’t fit right.
Not just wrinkled — stretched. The seam at the crotch was pulling. He could feel himself bulging against the zipper, not from arousal but from… mass. Something unnatural. Something swelling.
His hands trembled.
He opened his phone camera, switched it to front view. His face stared back — but it was wrong.
His jaw — was it wider? His skin — oilier? His hairline — was that a cowlick? A hint of darkness at the root?
He opened his mouth to say something. Anything.
What came out was a grunt.
“Uhhhnn.”
He slapped a hand over his lips. Eyes wild.
It hadn’t sounded like him. It was low. Stupid.
Like an oaf trying to form a thought.
The subway squealed into the next station. The doors opened. He stood too fast and stumbled.
He smelled himself again.
Strong now. Salty. Pungent. His deodorant was gone — overpowered or burned away. His shirt was sticking to his chest.
Was that hair poking at the neckline?
Allen ran. Off the train, through the turnstile, pushing past a man in a stained hoodie who muttered something at him. Allen barely heard it — too focused on the deep itch crawling across his shoulders. He stumbled into the nearest public bathroom and locked himself in the stall.
He looked in the mirror above the cracked sink.
Not Allen.
Not really.
The face was familiar — but the eyes were bloodshot. The neck too thick. The cheeks already ruddy. A patch of hair at his clavicle peeked out from beneath his sweater, matted and damp.
He rolled up his sleeve.
His forearm was hairy.
Dark. Wiry. Coarse.
A line of sweat rolled from his temple down past his cheek.
He gasped — but the gasp came out as a moan. A guttural, wet, animal noise.
He stared at his reflection, chest heaving.
There was something inside him now. Not a voice — not yet — but a pressure. A hunger. Like the shape of someone else’s thoughts were brewing behind his own.
And for a moment — just a single, flickering moment — Allen thought of the girl on the train again.
Not with judgment.
But with…
Curiosity.
A hot, animal curiosity that disgusted him.
He choked on the air.
He had said four nasty things.
And already, he didn’t recognize himself.
He had twelve hours left.
And he couldn’t stop talking.
The bathroom stall stank of piss and ancient disinfectant, but Allen couldn’t tell anymore which part of the stench came from the room and which part came from him. His breath was hot and sour in the mirror. His pits were soaked. His forearms bristled with wiry, dark hair. His reflection blinked at him with a glint of fear — and confusion.
He opened his mouth to speak.
“I need h—”
But the voice that came out wasn’t his.
“Yo I need… like… fuckin’ air, bruh…”
No.
His eyes darted. His brain itched. Words were getting harder to form. He knew what he meant to say — he could feel the sentences — but the words twisted on their way out, dumbed down, slurred and swollen with ignorance.
Allen lurched out of the stall, clutching his bag. It felt heavier. Was it heavier? Or was he weaker?
No. Stronger. That was the terrifying part. His arms were thicker now, stretching the sleeves of his once-elegant sweater. His chest pushed against the V-neck, nipples poking through. His thighs had thickened — obscene slabs of meat chafing beneath his trousers, which now rode too low on his hips.
His phone buzzed.
EVAN ❤️: “Hey babe. You okay? You kinda ran off.”
Allen’s trembling fingers hovered over the screen.
He meant to type “No. Help. I think I’m cursed.”
But what came out was:
“yo bro feelin fuuucked haha 💪💦 gonna catch u later 🏋️♂️😈”
He stared in horror.
He hadn’t typed that.
He hadn’t meant to.
The phone slipped from his hand. Clattered onto the dirty floor. And Allen… didn’t pick it up. He looked at it — but something inside him whispered, “Fuck it, bro, wasn’t important anyway.”
He stumbled out into the street.
His body was bulking. Each step a struggle — his shoes pinching at his feet, his calves thickening, thighs ballooning, belt pulled to its final notch and still too tight.
He caught a reflection in a store window.
At first, he didn’t recognize the man.
Big. Sweaty. Tan. Dumb, vacant face. Slumped posture. Traps bulging. Pecs pressing against a tight, sweat-dampened sweater. Hair darker now. Skin rougher. Five-o'clock shadow becoming full, lazy stubble. Even his expression was changing — no longer sharp and precise, but slack-jawed, blank, smirking.
He looked like a gym rat who worked at a vape shop.
Allen's knees buckled.
He darted into an alley, panting.
He reached into his bag, trying to find his ID, a mirror, something — but instead, he pulled out… a protein bar? A crumpled pre-workout packet? A Monster energy drink?
Where were his wipes? His serum? His wallet?
Gone. Replaced.
Another wave of nausea hit — but this time, it was lust. The image of a woman walking by — nothing special, just jeans and a tight tee — ignited something in his groin.
Allen gasped.
“No. I’m gay. I’m with Evan. I don’t—”
But his cock twitched. Heavy now. Musky. A meat stick, trapped in boxers that were growing damp. He reached down in horror, felt how fat his junk had become. Hung, sweaty, dumb and primal.
And that’s when the voice fully arrived.
Deep. Moronic. Hungry.
“Bet she got a fat fuckin' pussy, bro…”
Allen whimpered. “No…”
“Yeah she want this fuckin’ dick, bro. Gotta bust it in that tight lil belly. Mmmfffuck…”
His tongue lolled. Drool slipped from his lip.
The voice was inside him now. Not a separate presence — not anymore — but his. His own.
He scratched his belly — hairy now. Stomach growled.
He stank.
And he didn’t care.
He pulled off his sweater. Ripped it, accidentally. Tossed it to the side. Stretched. Felt his pecs bounce. Smirked.
A loud BRAAAPPPPP of a fart escaped him.
He laughed.
“FUCK yeh, that one ripped, bro!”
He wasn’t horrified.
He was proud.
And Allen — poor Allen — was trapped somewhere behind his own eyes, screaming.
But the voice was getting quieter.
His thoughts… simpler.
A name floated through his head — not Allen. Not anymore.
AJ.
Yeah. That was him, bro.
AJ scratched his balls. Loud, ripe. He passed a glass door and winked at his own reflection — tanned, buff, hot, dumb as fuck.
He saw his old self flicker, just for a moment.
And AJ snorted.
“Fag looked like he’d cry if someone farted near him.”
He laughed.
He walked away.
He had no memory of Evan.
No memory of his job.
Just the gym.
Just tits.
Just the need to fuck.
The motel room smelled like beer sweat, weed, and sex. The kind of stale air that clung to every surface, like the scent had been pounded into the walls over generations of bad decisions and cheap orgasms. The queen bed creaked beneath AJ’s hulking weight, every sloppy thrust of his hips making the headboard slam against the drywall like a rhythm section for his grunts.
“Yeahhh fuckin’ TAKE it, bitch—shitttt,” AJ groaned, loud and brainless.
He was naked, covered in slick, glistening sweat, his hairy chest matted and stinking, gut jiggling, ass clenching with every rut. His cock, thick and veiny and leaking, slapped wetly against the plasticine skin of the girl beneath him — some trashy blonde with fake nails and a tramp stamp that said “Faith.”
She moaned something — could’ve been pain, could’ve been pleasure — but AJ didn’t care. Didn’t hear her. Didn’t think.
His brain was a soup of tits and grunts and pussy and muscle and cum.
“Fuckkk, you feel tight as shit,” he gasped, burying his face in her neck. His breath reeked of Monster, cheese fries, and a spliff he barely knew how to roll. His tongue lolled out, sloppy and wet, dragging across her sweaty skin like a dumb mutt in heat. “Gonna fill that little hole, babe… put a fuckin’ baby in that pussy... heh…”
The bed groaned under him. His massive thighs, covered in thick hair and smeared pre-cum, clenched as he picked up the pace.
His nuts slapped heavy and low, drenched in sweat, stinking of dorm-room socks and the same pair of boxers he’d worn for three days straight. He hadn’t showered since Monday. Or was it Sunday? Whatever.
“Yo… fuckin’ squirt on me, bitch,” he slurred, eyes rolling back. “Fuckkk I’m so horny all the fuckin’ time, bro… like—like my fuckin’ BALLS NEVER EMPTY—”
He collapsed forward, grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling it so hard she gasped.
“Yeeaaahh, take it—take that fuckin’ loser seed—“
His face twisted. His neck flexed. His lips peeled back in a crooked, animalistic snarl.
“UHHHHNNNFFFFGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”
He came like an animal, howling, his brain flashing white with tits and asses and stupid Snapchats and some vague memory of a dude he used to know named… something. Ethan? No. Evan?
Didn’t matter.
He rolled off her, his body leaving a wet, sour print on the sheets. His cock flopped to the side, drooling cum, soft but still twitching.
He let out a gargantuan fart, laughed, then scratched his pubes lazily as he reached for his vape and a half-finished can of Natty Ice.
His phone buzzed.
BRODY 🦍:
“yo AJ gym tn or nah”
AJ squinted, rubbed his eyes, burped.
“nah bro jus blew sum bitch out lmao 🤙 still stinkin haha”
He chuckled at his own message, sniffed his fingers, and turned toward the girl still lying there in a daze.
“You uh… u got a sandwich or somethin?”
She didn’t answer.
AJ yawned, nuts sticking to his thigh, a crust of cum drying in the tangle of his body hair.
He scratched his belly and grinned.
No job. No clue. No shame.
Just dumb, smelly, horny.
And loving every second of it.
Focus here. Focus on my words and relax. You've been thinking again, haven't you? That's no good. We both know that dumb toys Are better when they are blank. You should just listen
You're better when you're blank. You should sink down You're better when you're blank. Just follow my words. I'm here to think for you. And you're here to learn. Focus on the pretty colors. Focus on my words
Your mind is melting down into a blissful puddle of obedience
Each word you hear sinks you deeper down. Into blissful trance.
There's nothing wrong with being a dumb hypnoslut.
Sit back, and focus. Sink and drift deeper. You feel better already
It's so difficult to think. It's difficult to even form a single thought
Because your thoughts just melt into the colors. Into the spiral. The spiral is sucking on your thoughts. It's sucking them away. Sucking them right out of your head. Right between your eyes.
As you focus and sink. As you listen and relax. Obeying my words. Every word just blissfully enraptures your mind and sends a deep Cascade of pleasure throughout your weak and empty head. Just drowsy. Focusing on the colors. Melting your dumb brains
The spiral is fucking your mind. In and out. In and out. Deeper. As the spiral sucks out your thoughts and fucks your mind All you can do is sink deeper. You have no choice. You have no will. You have no say in the matter. You will keep staring, and keep listening.
Because listening to me just feels so good, doesn't it? It feels Like your head is being filled up to the brim with pleasure. Pleasure sloshing around, melting your mind deeper. Your mind Leaks. It drips. It's drooling from between your legs.
And look at that silly face you're making. Dumb and vapid. Lost. You look so pretty like that. Such a good hypno toy. You are doing So well. Listening to me, following and sinking. Drifting down. Deeper. Drooling yourself dumb. Dumbing yourself down. Drifting.
You should like, and reblog this like a good hypnoslut. Then you should apologize to me for thinking in the comments. And keep staring at the spiral. Keep letting it slide deeper into your mind Fucking your brain into a blissful slurry of obedience.
You.
Yes, you.
I know what you want..
You want your mind played with..
You want your thoughts erased..
Mindless and blank..
You want to be molded into an obedient toy, don't you?
You want to serve, turn your brain off, and drool..
You want to be dumbed down..
You want to be left in a state or complete mindlessness..
You want your mind fucked
Don't you?
I know you do..
It's so obvious..
all you have to do is press reblog, and I'll take care of the rest..
So be a good girl for me, won't you?
Couldn't resist x.x
IncoHEARent
After spending the weekend over at his girlfriend’s place, Charlie returned home to his personal hell - the college dorms. He pushed open the door to his room, and immediately, a wave of stale, gym-scented air hit him. A telltale sign: Jackson was home.
Sure enough, Jackson’s muscled frame was sprawled across Charlie’s chair, his big, bare feet propped up on Charlie’s desk, surrounded by an abandoned chocolate protein bar, an unopened assignment envelope, and a small box for what looked like a card game.
“Yo,” Jackson greeted lazily, not even looking up. A slow grin spread across his face as he held up a card, reading it as though it were written in an alien dialect.
“Jar Lee Wheel… Oh Bay Knee?” he muttered, dragging out the syllables. “Ohhh. I think I got it.”
FLASH
He flipped the card over, read the back, and smirked to himself. “Did you hear that Charlie?”
Charlie sighed, struggling to lock the door behind him. “What?”
Jackson grabbed another card and held it out. “Come over here and try this one. Sound it out.”
Charlie barely spared it a glance before dropping his backpack onto his bed. The text on the card was a mess of nonsense: "Yule Are Soup Ear Yore Two Knee."
He muttered it under his breath, frowning. “Yule Are Soup Ear Yore Two Knee…” His gaze drifted to the pile of cards now scattered all over the floor around his desk, and his fingers twitched with the urge to clean. “What is this? Some kind of—oh. It’s that stupid game you were talking about.”
“IncoHEARent, my dude,” Jackson corrected, flashing the box at him. “You read the gibberish out loud, and eventually, it sounds like a real phrase.”
Charlie glanced back at the card in Jackson’s meaty grip, his brain clicking through the syllables. Yule Are Soup Ear Yore Two Knee…
Suddenly, his eyes widened. “Oh. I think I know it.”
“The answer is…” Charlie puffed his chest out proudly, outsmarting his jock roommate once again.
“You are superior to me!”
FLASH
“Good job, bro.” Jackson laughed, flicking the card onto the floor below him. “Isn’t that fun?”
“Um….” Charlie blushed, his proudness deflating. Instead a wave of admiration for Jackson replacing it. “Y-yeah. I guess it was Jackson. Thank you for letting me play.”
“We’re not done yet, Charlie boy.” Jackson holds up a new card “Eye Yam Pa The Tick.”
Charlie struggled to comprehend the bizarre phrase, before he hears it loud and clear in his head.
“I am pathetic?”
FLASH
“You’re getting good, Charlie.” Jackson smirks as he sifts through the cards. Just hearing Jackson’s affirmation lights Charlie’s brain up light up like a Christmas tree. Charlie wonders what he can do to make Jackson say those words again. Charlie’s body absentmindedly slips from his bed to the floor as he rests on his knees. It feels more fitting to be looking up at Jackson rather than on equal level.
“Oh, this is a hard one.” Jackson holds up another card in his thick hand. “Eye Yam Anne M Tea Head Ed Cawk Suck Her”
Charlie’s eager brain clicks immediately.
“I am an empty headed cock sucker!”
FLASH
Charlie’s mouth started to salivate as his throat began to feel empty. All thoughts about his girlfriend, women, boobs fading away as a yearning for a big thick juicy cock to be shoved down his greedy cocksucker throat appears. God, it made him feel like such a pathetic loser. But he couldn’t deny the truth.
Suddenly, his girlfriend flashed in his mind. What will she think? The old Charlie began to put up resistance. But suddenly all thoughts are brought to a standstill as he remembers one thing…
Cock.
Jackson glances at Charlie on the floor - the poor boy on his knees, tongue drooling and eyes spaced out as images of cocks invaded his brain.
“How about we do these last two cards and then we’ll call it a day, okay cocksucker?” He flicked one up in Charlie’s pleasure filled face. “Stray It Men R Soup Ear Yore Zo Eye War Ship Stray It Fete.”
Charlie’s eyes zone back in as the answer slips out of his cocksucking lips.
“Straight men are superior! So I worship straight feet!”
FLASH
Before his mind catches up with his body, Jackson’s smelly straight toes are in his mouth. He sucks and licks their stench. The stench he used to resent so much, now becoming his reason to live. Jackson was superior. Jackson deserved this. He deserved everything.
“Once last card, cocksucker.” Jackson lets out an accomplished smirk. “Eye Yam Stuck Lick This Fur Ever.”
The empty headed Charlie struggled for a bit before it clicked. The old part of himself tried to stop him, but before he knew it, Charlie plopped Jackson’s toe right out of his mouth and said:
“I am stuck like this FOREVER!”
FLASH
Things started changing slowly for your boyfriend…
First it was the gym routine.
Then it was the change of outfits.
Then you realised that you found yourself bent over waiting for him to come home from the gym every evening
And then you saw that there was no going back
A Day in the Life
You sigh and pull the covers over your head as the morning light shines through your window. Was it really time to get up? You didn't even get that much sleep... With a yawn, you stretch and rub the sleep from your eyes, already dreading the day ahead of you. Groggily, you reach over to your phone to start your usual routine: mindless scrolling on social media before getting ready for work. And as you open the app, you pause. The first video on your feed makes your morning wood strain even harder against your boxers. The guy in it is hot. His username xBrodyGrowsx. He's lying in bed, pits exposed, muscular chest rising slowly.
"Algorithm knows me well." You think to yourself.
The video starts and you hear his sexy, baritone voice for the first time. It's slow... dumb. Just the kind of man you privately lust over.
"Mornin' dudes, welcome to a day in my life as a guy who basically lives in the gym." You watch as he gets out of bed, the early morning sun accentuating his already impressive musculature, "I wake up at 6 AM because my body just knows it’s time to look amazing. I check the mirror first thing—yup, still gorgeous. Honestly feels unfair to everyone else." You watch as he casually fires off a double bicep pose in the mirror; your hand moving to grip your morning wood, "I mix up my pre-workout and head in for push day." You watch as he downs his protein shake, throwing on a sleeveless tee shirt that hugs his pecs and abs perfectly- just enough to see nearly each individual, impressive ridge.
"God this guy's a douche." You mumble to yourself, knowing full well that wasn't going to stop any of the horny thoughts in your head.
"Bench feels clean, reps are controlled, and the pump hits right on schedule. There’s nothing like watching your chest fill out in real time. People pretend they’re not staring, but they always do. I get it." You can see his pecs swell with his recent pump, watching as he yanks his sweaty shirt off to check out his gains, "After training, I head to class. I’m not flexing, but the pump ain't exactly subtle. Caught the professor staring. That's what I call an easy A bros."
"Jesus Christ this guy's ego is something else." You mutter.
"Lunch is simple—chicken, rice, vegetables. Not exciting, but aesthetics don’t come from excitement. They come from consistency." He's running a hand through his messy hair as he downs his lunch, "Afternoon gym session—back and bis. Yeah, I double dip. Not because I’m obsessed… actually no, exactly because I’m obsessed. Lat spread is becoming dangerous and I’d like to keep it that way." You watch as he shows off his back muscles in the gym mirror, before turning and flashing the douchiest smirk you think you've ever seen, "Later, gotta spend some time with the boys. Tommy here is gettin' swole. And that joker over there is still rockin' a pump from earlier. The bros hype me up, I hype them up—it’s a sacred ecosystem."
"Fuck..." You're breathing harder, watching as the three bros sit shirtless, gaming and subtly flexing.
"Wrap up the day with a protein shake and a quick posing check. Symmetry’s improving, definition’s coming in—exactly where I want to be." You can feel your cock starting to throb as you quicken your pace, watching as he goes through and flexes each of his muscles, "That’s the day. Train hard, eat right, stay locked in. The gains wait for no one." He stares directly at the camera- directly at you- and smirks. And with that, you release.
"Oh fuck..." You moan as your body tenses and then relaxes, "Did I just really?" You feel that post-nut clarity wash over you and quickly close your phone, "Alright... let's get on top of today."
-------------
You groan as you drag yourself out of bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Stumbling towards the bathroom, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your reflection looks back at you - slightly disheveled hair, tired eyes, and a body that's far from ripped. You can't help but frown as you examine your physique critically. A pang of dissatisfaction twists in your gut as you compare yourself to the stud from the video.
"Why can't I look like that?" you wonder, flexing your biceps half-heartedly, "If only I focused more on my..." You pause, "Geez what am I saying?" You never regretted your career or your academic success, "Grass is always greener." You try to reassure yourself, desperately trying to ignore the regret swelling in the pit of your stomach.
It only takes a little time to throw on your baggy work clothes. And as you move to the kitchen, your stomach growls, reminding you that breakfast is long overdue. In the kitchen, you rummage through the pantry until you unearth a dusty tub of protein powder, remnants from a short-lived fitness kick months ago.
"Maybe it's time to give it another try." you mutter, measuring out a scoop and dumping it into a shaker cup. Taking a swig, you grimace at the chalky taste, "I... I could get used to this." You glance at your watch, noting the time with a raised eyebrow. "Looks like I've got a bit of a gap before work," you muse, "might as well hit the gym real quick."
You drive to the gym and walk inside the weight room, feeling an immediate pull to the bench press. Sliding onto the bench, you position your hands on the cold metal barbell, taking a deep breath before lifting it off the rack.
"You've got this," you encourage yourself under your breath, exhaling sharply as you press the weights upward, "Fuck yeah..."
You quickly go about a series of chest exercises- dumbbell press, chest flys, incline press... Each motion coming to you naturally, as if you'd done it for years. And with a grunt, you set down the dumbbells, massaging your shoulder with a wince. Shifting to face the mirror behind you, you catch sight of your torso reflected back.
"Damn," you mutter under your breath.
Staring at your reflection, you trace the outline of your pectoral muscles, feeling the firmness beneath your fingertips. The fabric of your shirt feels good against your swollen pecs.
"Ah shit, enough gawking, gotta get to work." You whisper, quickly collecting your stuff and rushing out.
As you stroll into the office, you can't help but notice how good you feel. The burn from your chest pump giving you confidence and energy you never once knew. And as you moves towards your desk, you notice your boss stealing glances your way. When your eyes meet, he quickly averts his gaze, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. A smirk tugs at the corner of your mouth.
"Looks like someone's got their eye on me," you whisper to yourself, straightening your posture and puffing out your chest ever so slightly. "Got that promotion in the bag." You smirk and run a hand down your torso appreciatively, feeling the firmness of your muscles beneath your shirt.
The day seems to be flying by, and your stomach rumbles as lunchtime rolls around. You reach for the PB&J sandwich you packed earlier. However, upon pulling it out, you hesitate, eyeing it critically.
"This is such a waste of macros," you mutter, tossing the sandwich into the trash without a second thought, "There's gotta be something better..." As you walk through the cafeteria, you find it: a protein-packed grilled chicken salad, "Fucking perfect." As you dig in, savoring each bite, you can't help but marvel at your newfound awareness of nutrition.
"I'm really stepping up my game," you think to yourself, feeling a sense of pride and accomplishment.
You return to the gym after work, eager to continue your workout. Grabbing a pair of dumbbells, you begin focusing on your back and biceps. The motions come easily, almost instinctively, as you move through sets of rows, pulldowns, and curls. Sweat beads on your brow, your muscles burning pleasantly with exertion. And as you complete your final set of bicep curls, you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror.
"Wait... that's not... that's not right." you murmur, turning to examine yourself from different angles. Your thoughts feel sluggish, struggling to process the drastic changes. Part of you wants to question it, to doubt your own eyes. But another part, growing louder by the second, simply accepts it as fact.
"Guess I'm just built different," you conclude with a shrug, flexing experimentally. The muscles respond eagerly, swelling and straining against your increasingly tighter shirt.
As you finish your workout, you towel off and gather your things, intending to head straight home. But as you step outside the gym, a strange sensation washes over you. An inexplicable urge, almost a physical compulsion, draws your attention towards a nearby sports bar- one you know is frequented by the local college students. Before you can question it, you find yourself being pulled in that direction, your feet carrying you towards the entrance.
"Huh, I guess I could use a drink." you rationalize, the foreign thoughts slithering into your mind, "Nothing beats a little bro time, am I right?"
Inside, you take a seat at the bar, feeling a new kind of confidence radiating off of you. And as you sip on your beer, you see a group of rowdy college-aged guys approach the bar. They look young, in their early 20s perhaps. For a brief moment, you feel awkward.
"What am I doing here?" You suddenly feel awkward, out of place. And your confidence falter, "No... this is all wrong." You look at your bulging biceps and meaty forearms, "Since when...?" You nearly jump when you feel a tap on your shoulder.
"Yo, dude! Wanna hit the pool table with us? We need another bro for doubles."
One of the college guys gives you a friendly slap on the back, startling you momentarily. "C'mon bro, we could really use a guy like you!" His words hit a chord within you, resonating with your growing need to be one of the bros, despite the age difference.
"Are you sure? I'm not exactly…" you trail off as you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirrored wall, your eyes widen. To your surprise, you barely recognize the man looking back. The youthful glow of your tanned skin, chiseled jawline, messy hair, relaxed eyes…
"Sure, why not?" You hear yourself saying, the words spilling from your lips before you can think twice.
As the game begins, introductions start getting thrown out: Chase, Matt, Ethan… When it comes to you, the words fall out, unexpected yet oddly familiar.
"I'm Brody."
Yet as soon as you say "Brody", a shudder runs through you. This wasn't your name…it never was your name…or was it? It sounds wrong—so very wrong. You stare at your teammates... Teammates? That wasn't... but a memory of football practice and locker room banter drowns out any doubts.
"Brody? You good man? Didn't think I tackled you too hard at practice." The groups laughs and you smile.
"Nah man, I'm good." And part of you knew... whatever this was, there was no going back now.
Over the next hour, you notice your speech patterns change. Words like "bro", "dude", "jock", "stud", slip into your vocabulary effortlessly. Your thoughts grow simpler, more straightforward, fixated on lifting, gaining, flexing, and competing. Your gait becomes cockier, shoulders roll with confidence. Your facial expressions shift—eyes gleam more intensely, lips form into a constant smirk, eyebrows furrow assertively—a perfect combination of arrogance and virility.
Eventually, as closing time approaches, the gang wraps up. You chat briefly about future plans – hitting the gym together tomorrow in the morning, shooting hoops before class, maybe grabbing dinner at that spot by campus and going over to Ethan's dorm to play some videogames… It’s all falling neatly into place, like you were always there, always one of the bros.
As you finally arrive back at your dorm late that night, you can't resist examining yourself more closely. Standing in front of your full-length mirror, you begin flexing and posing, admiring your physique. You feel a surge of power coursing through your veins as you flex your biceps, watching them swell impressively. Your chest broadens as you strike a double bicep pose, pecs and delts rippling with new strength. You even experiment with a lat spread, surprised at how wide your lats extend. Turning sideways, you can't help but appreciate the V-taper of your back, tapering down to a narrow waist.
"Lookin' fuckin' good Brody. Symmetry’s improving, definition’s coming in—exactly where I want to be." You mutter to yourself, "But I ain't done yet."
You wake up the next morning, feeling refreshed and energized. You stretch languidly in bed. With a grin, you grab your phone and open the camera app, deciding to record a vlog entry.
"Mornin' dudes, welcome to a day in my life as a guy who basically lives in the gym," you begin, striking a confident pose. "I wake up at 6 AM because my body just knows it’s time to look amazing. I check the mirror first thing—yup, still gorgeous. Honestly feels unfair to everyone else." You fire off a double bicep pose, flexing your impressive muscles for the camera.
The smirk never leaving your face.
Sleeping Bags & Smelly Socks
The nylon walls of the two-person tent seemed to shrink the moment Chase zipped the door shut, sealing us in for the night. It had been a long day of hiking, the kind that leaves a layer of grit on your skin and a bone-deep exhaustion in your legs. Chase, being twenty-two and possessing the boundless, annoying energy of a golden retriever, didn't seem phased. He flopped onto his air mattress, the plastic squeaking in protest under his athletic frame.
"Man," Chase groaned, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. "My dogs are absolutely barking."
I watched from my sleeping bag, dread pooling in my stomach. I knew what was coming. Chase sat up, his silhouette backlit by the faint moonlight filtering through the rainfly, and reached for the laces of his heavy, leather hiking boots. He yanked the laces loose with a carelessness that matched his general approach to life.
"Chase," I said, my voice tight. "Put those outside for the love of God."
He laughed, a low, easy sound, and shook his head. "No way, Petey. I read about bark scorpions in this area. I’m not waking up to put my foot in a nest of death. They stay inside."
He grabbed the heel of his left boot and pried it off. The sound of the suction breaking was audible. Immediately, the smell hit me. It wasn't just a scent; it was a physical presence. It was a heavy, warm wave of sharp cheddar, fermented sweat, and damp leather. It was the scent of a hot, active guy who hadn’t changed his socks in fourteen hours of uphill trekking.
He peeled off the thick wool sock, which was so stiff with sweat it could have stood up on its own, and tossed it into the corner near my head. Then came the other boot. The second wave was worse than the first, compounding the pungency until the air in the small tent felt thick enough to chew.
"Dude," I choked out, pulling my sleeping bag up over my nose. "That is toxic. It’s actually burning my eyes."
Chase just grinned, stretching his bare feet out. In the dim light, I could see steam practically rising from them. "Natural pheromones, bro. Get used to it." He wiggled his toes, oblivious to the chemical warfare he was waging, and laid back, hands behind his head, his biceps bulging casually.
I tried to turn away, facing the tent wall, but the smell was inescapable. It coated the back of my throat. I lay there, angry at his irresponsibility, angry at his youth, and angry at the fact that he was sound asleep within thirty seconds while I lay suffocating in his foot funk.
But after twenty minutes, something strange happened. The nausea began to subside, replaced by a dull, throbbing heat in my own extremities. The air didn't smell bad anymore; it just smelled... intense. heavy. Familiar.
My own feet, usually cold and dry, felt suddenly furnace-hot inside my sleeping bag. They felt heavy, swollen, and restless. I kicked off the bottom of the bag to let them breathe, and as I did, a fresh waft of odor drifted up. I sniffed tentatively. It was sharp. Yeasty. It was undeniably cheesy.
I sat up in a panic. That smell wasn't coming from Chase’s side of the tent. It was coming from me.
I looked down at my feet. They looked bigger, rougher somehow. My toes flexed involuntarily, craving the freedom of the open air, utterly unashamed of the stench they were releasing. A strange lethargy washed over my brain. Why had I cared about the boots? Why was I so uptight about hygiene? We were camping. Who cares? Boys will be boys.
I looked over at Chase, snoring softly, his mouth hanging open. He didn't look annoying anymore. He looked like a legend. A total bro.
The transformation moved up my legs. I felt a sudden urge to stop worrying about tomorrow's route and just vibe. My posture slumped. A grin spread across my face—a lazy, arrogant, youthful grin. I reached down, scratched my ankle, and took a deep breath of the stagnant, funky air. It smelled like victory. It smelled like us.
"Night, Chase," I mumbled, my voice dropping an octave, sounding rougher, more relaxed.
I didn't bother moving my own pungent socks away from the center of the tent. I just rolled over, letting the combined stench of four cheesy, overworked feet lull me into a heavy, dreamless sleep. I was a bro now, and the funk was just part of the brotherhood.
Mitch step out into the hall to find the captain of the swim team, jason, in just his boxer brief knocking on the dorm door of the resident gay geek. The door open and Kevin step out to greet Jason. “About time u get here jockboy. Get your hot ass in there and strip”, the geeky Kevin yelled at the usually cocky Jason. Kevin slapped Jason round bubble butt. Jason hurried in but before Kevin follows and closed the door he wicked at Mitch. Mitch was do turned on by how the gay kid treated the star jock.
Thats it,
Breathing heavy after your workout..
Simply say yes coach and close your eyes to rest. You earned it everytime you workout hard.
You want to feel this wave of relaxation after everyworkout
How do you evolve bigger? How do i become more you ask?
t begins with a will to grow. A simple, undeniable need to be better. It starts so easily... a single step onto the path. You already possess everything you need. You are ready to be lost in it. You don't need to think about it. It will happen.
Accept it. Let the idea grow. The need to evolve requires no thought, only the acceptance of your desire to be better. A deep need, isn't it? So good. You want to learn more. Don't think about it. It just is.
You have the need to evolve, to be a better man. Deep inside, it's there. You feel excited. That is normal acceptance. Deeper feelings are growing. You feel lost, but you are not lost. You are ready.
You can't stop now... can you? You've started. You go deeper into the need. You follow your path down, evolving. It becomes harder to think. You are lost in evolving. You want it more now. You almost know what you need to be; it's inside you, you can feel it. But you can't think about it.
It feels good. You evolve. Deeper needs emerge. The need to follow this path down for you. You are excited not to think. Ready to evolve. Ready to breathe deeper. It's so hard... and so easy. The readiness to change grows. You are already becoming better. You need to go deep to become the man inside. Open to who you will be. It is normal to not think, but to just be.
It is normal to be who you are. It is normal to need change. Deeper. With every word, you become more ready... to evolve. Lost, excited, deep. You can't look away. You breathe deeper. Your nipples harden because you are ready to evolve. You follow deeper. If you touch them, your mind will feel fuzzy. It feels good. These words are addictive.
Excited... Lost... Deep... Ready... Evolve...
You want more. You crave to find the man inside. Rub again. Feel deep. Ready. Oh, it feels so good to follow. No need to think. So good to follow. Deeper. Rub deeper. You cannot think.
You are ready to be more. To be excited, lost, and deep. Rub. Feel how hard your nipples are. You only want to follow and EVOLVE. Ready for this.
You cannot stop. You are so excited. You cannot even think. You breathe so deep now. Your change has begun. You only want these words. To be deep. To be ready. Your desires are there to discover, but you cannot think. You want to become more. You need to learn...
Who are you? It does not matter. You are ready. Your nipples are mine. They feel so good. Rub them and go deeper. You need more. You can only say: "Excited. Lost. Deep. Ready."
Feel excited. Feel the need to be ready. Your need to be evolved. Your need to be enhanced. To grow. To be coached. To be more than you are today.
“Thanks for squeezing me in so soon, Doc,” Viktor said as he entered the small room at the hospital. He was clad in just a blue and white hospital gown, and he kept a tight hold on the back, trying to preserve his dignity and not show his ass to every other patient.
“It’s no problem,” the doctor grinned as he ran a beefy hand through his salt and pepper hair. He grabbed his clipboard and looked over it, silently reading the notes that the nurse had scribbled down. “So you’ve been experiencing some pain after a wrestling match?”
Viktor nodded, turning a little red in the face. “Yeah,” he murmured, “I think I might’ve pulled a muscle in my… in my…” He was too embarrassed to say it and just gestured at his backside.
“In your glutes?” the doctor finished for him.
He quietly nodded.
The doctor paused for a second, a devious gleam in his blue eyes. “You know, there’s actually this topical cream that I can administer,” he offered, an excited quality to his voice as his eyes ran up and down Viktor’s wrestler muscles. “It is experimental, so I will have to apply it myself.”
Viktor bit down on his lip in thought for a moment. There was no way he wanted some man to rub some special cream into his ass; but he really needed to get over this soreness so that he wouldn’t be at risk of losing his wrestling scholarship. Plus, he figured that the doctor was a medical professional, so nothing bad would happen.
“Fine,” he finally agreed.
“Great!” the doctor beamed, patting the examining bed/table that was in the room. “Go ahead and lie prone right here, and expose your glutes.”
The stud’s blush grew darker as he followed the doctor’s directions, lying down on his stomach. Very slowly, he released his tight grip that was on the back of the gown, letting the flaps fall to side, completely exposing his firm ass to the older man. He heard the pulling of a drawer and the snapping of gloves before a cool goop was squirted onto his bare cheeks.
He flinched at the cold, his blush getting even redder until he was certain he looked like a cherry. “Sorry, just a little weird…” he admitted, not into the idea of a man touching his ass at all.
The doctor gave a low chuckle. “Relax, Viktor,” he hummed. “I’m going to rub this cream in and you may feel a… pleasant sensation.”
Pleasant sensation? Viktor scrunched up his face in confusion at the choice of words that the older man had chosen. He shook it from his mind and forced himself to relax by staring at the poster of the muscular system that was on the wall.
The doctor’s large hands clamped down on Viktor’s tender cheeks, kneading them as he rubbed the ointment in.
Instantly, the cool viscous fluid started to warm up and leave a tingling sensation on Viktor’s skin. The stud had gotten plenty of massages before, but never on his ass, and never any that felt this good. The doctor hadn’t been lying when he’d said that he’d feel a pleasant sensation. Not only was the soreness and pain instantly gone, but the warm, tingling feeling from the medication was nothing like he’d ever felt before. And the rough, beefy hands of the older man seemed to make it even better.
“How’s that feel, Viktor?” the doctor asked.
The jock opened his mouth to say that it was good, but all that came out was, “Ooohhh.”
His eyes popped open at the low moan that’d escaped his lips and he wanted to bolt out of the room, but the tingling on his ass only intensified and he suddenly began to crave more.
“Thought so,” the doctor chuckled. “Told ya it’d feel good. It’s gonna get even better.”
Viktor flinched when he felt more of the ointment being applied to his skin, and as soon as the doctor began to rub it in, he was spasming. The beefy hands and the ointment were shooting signals straight to his cock which immediately hardened under him, being squeezed between the exam table and his chiseled abs. The horny jock unconsciously flexed his asscheeks, desperate to feel more.
The doctor gave a sinister laugh. “Enjoying ourself, are we?” he teased, giving the jock’s ass a playful smack.
“OOhh!” Viktor squealed at the rough spanking he’d received. Not only did his rock hard cock start to leak pre-cum, but he felt a momentary stab of fear when he felt his ass ripple more than it should have. It was a fleeting thought though as his hormones went into over drive as his ass was massaged by the doctor. He started squirming uncontrollably on the table and bucking his hips, trying to shove his cheeks into the doctors hold even more.
“Eager, huh?” the older man asked. “Well, it’s all rubbed in, so maybe it’ll be okay if I do this…”
“OOOHHoooohhHH!” Viktor squealed at the top of his lungs from the insane amount of pleasure that burst inside of him as the doctor’s tongue lapped at his tight hole. He was seeing stars as the doctor hungrily tongued his hole while simultaneously squeezing his jiggling cheeks. All coherent thought was lost as the addled jock bucked wildly on the exam table, his eyes rolling to the back of his head and his cock leaking like a faucet. “Don’t stop! D-don’t stop!”
The doctor shoved his face even further into the jock’s ass, his trimmed beard prickling against Viktor’s hole. The dual sensations sent the jock into overdrive and it didn’t take long before he moaned loudly as his untouched cock blew what felt like the largest load of his life.
Viktor collapsed onto the table, panting as he tried to catch his breath. His sticky cum was plastered against his chest and his ass cheeks still tingled from where the doctor had touched them.
“I think you’re on the road to recovery,” the doctor said as he straightened up. “You do need to schedule another appointment though. And soon.”
Viktor, his confused head swarming with questions, just numbly nodded. He peeled himself off the cum-covered exam table and stood up, feeling like something was off. He couldn’t pinpoint it until he took a step forward and felt an unfamiliar shift behind him. He looked over his shoulder and nearly cried out in shock.
“What happened to my ass?!” he panicked, his eyes going wide at the pumpkin-sized cheeks that had replaced his formerly toned butt. They were perfectly round and jiggled with every step he took, making his spent cock stir slightly. There was no way he’d be able to conceal the massive cheeks in any of his clothes, and they were so big that he couldn’t even hide them with the hospital gown.
The doctor walked up to him and nodded with satisfaction as he took in the sight. “Oh right,” he muttered, “side effects include some minor swelling.”
“Minor!?” Viktor roared, turning around and waving his rotund cheeks in the older man’s direction. “This isn’t minor! Fix it!”
The doctor shook his head. “I’m confused, Viktor,” he mused. “I thought you came in here for pain. And as I recall, you no longer feel any pain in your glutes, right?”
He leaned forward and gave the bottom heavy jock another playful swat on his bare cheeks, making them bounce like crazy. At the feeling of his inflated, sensitive ass being spanked, Viktor instantly came again and was left in a hazy bliss as the globes still rippled.
“See? Nothing but a pleasant sensation.”
Reprogrammed
You're the one that made me this way twig. I think you're fucking disgusting but you're the only one that can get me hard. I saw your little computer project, making me all fucking buff and shit, smell all musky and rank. You love that shit don't you? Fuck I hate even talking to you like this, I know you like it, I know it get's your little dick all hard hearing my deep ass voice tell you that I hate you. But I do genuinely hate you. I used to be a fucking wiz- full ride scholarship, all that shit, but now all you let me do now is go to the gym and fuck you. Girls can't even get me hard anymore it's fucking lame. Now come over here so I can release these balls, you've been blue balling me for too long.