Khan transformations

im khan and im like transformation and All stories published here are fanfiction and are not for profit. Some characters are my own creations, while others belong to their respective owners and trademark holders.

[khantransformations]

Multiverse Story Archive:

Red Dagger and the Axes of Asgard – The Birth of the Himbo Thor-Karachi

HYDRA_POP.EXE

Captain America’s Living Tank Top"

Orange Smoke

HERO BRO!!

The HIMBO-4.0 Virus

Surrender to the God of Wakanda

Hero Corruption Saga

Himbo-Con

The Mysterious Deodorant

The Golden Gainer

Edens Zero: NEON Bunny Night

Alola Speedo TF

Himbo-Bee

[dreamertf]

Am I Gay?

Fuck girl, I've been talking all weird since that gay guy bumped into me. Like- he muttered some weird words in latin or something and now I just feel so weird. I don't know I feel kinda bad for being such an asshole to him! He was actually kinda cute. My hair? Oh yeah i just got the frosted tips last night, I think its cutie- don't you? Ugh fuck now I'm thinking about him again! I hope i run into him soon, I really need fuck buddy hahaha. Am i gay? Umm yes obviously, I've been gay forever. Don't be an asshole girl

[dreamertf]

Like a God

I've known that I was a Swapper since middle school, but I couldn't exactly use my power at all. Usually, people would have to agree to a swap for it to work- but I found a loophole. I found out that i could get them to pseudo agree if I agreed to do something on my end-- they didn't have to know about it.

"I'll do your homework" for 5 pounds of muscle.

So of course I made myself a target for the frats, and that didn't take much. All I had to do was offer to help out with homework once, the rest would funnel to me through word of mouth.

At 2 weeks I had gained 50 pounds of muscle, and nearly a foot in height. Seeing abs on my scrawny ass body for the first time was intoxicating. I felt unstoppable- like a god. If I wanted to I could just "trade" my services for a bigger amount- but I want it to be gradual. I want to feel my muscles pulse bigger with each guy. I want to see the frats losing life as they slowly become dweebs. It's more fun to drag out their torture.

You could tell the ones that would come to me more, Jackie– he would've killed me if i called him that a month ago- is now a 5'6" hyperfeminine twink. And boy can that boy take a dick.

Of course I'm the one who controls the transfer, so I started changing the way I stole. Some guys that were late to the party got lucky. I would let them keep their muscle, but I'd drain their dominance and an inch or so off their dick. This guy for example used to be an asshole, now he begs for my cock, just like the rest of my cumdumps.

I know that deep down they remembered their past selves. They remembered that they used to be taller, straight. -but that's the thing about us Swappers, once we've imprinted on you, there's no going back.

The days passed by and I admit, I got a little overzealous. Right now I'm 7 feet tall, 350 pounds of pure muscle, swinging around the biggest dick you've seen in your life. Most of the fags I drained just hangout around me now, I think they think of me as a god of some kind. A god that took away their suffering, giving them pleasure by fucking them with the dick i stole from them.

[dreamertf]

The Jockstrap

My washer broke and I had to go to a laundromat for the first time in awhile. I haven't been since I was a kid, but I'm glad I did today. 

When I got home I started folding my laundry and I noticed some sort of smell coming from it– it started faint but slowly got more pungent. It was like sweat and cum mixed together, musky and disgusting– but for some reason I couldn't stop sniffing it. It was intoxicating. At the bottom of my basket I found the culprit. Somehow this guys shit got mixed in with mine, and despite going through the washer, water, detergent, even bleach, his shit was still smelly as fuck. It was a jockstrap. 

A real classic, but it compelled me. I didn't even notice how my cock was rock hard– I couldn't concentrate because I was so focused on smelling this scent. The jockstrap now held up to my nose like an inhaler. Then, I put it on.

It was euphoria as it grazed my hairy legs coming up, I had to jam my fully hard dick in there as it somehow got harder. I thought I was imagining things as the jockstrap pulsated. I kept getting harder, no- not harder- longer. My dick started to grow and as soon as I realized that I came. But I wasn't done. As i lifted my infected clothes up to my nose I leaned back, my spine lengthening at an alarming rate. My shoulders cracked wider as with each inhale I became more deserving of it, more deserving of the jockstrap. My jawline sharpened out as I felt each ab meticulously pop in. My once chubby gut completely gone. 

I reached back into my mind, trying to think who this could've possibly belonged to, then I remembered the guy with the giant thighs. The absolute unit sitting next to me I was too scared to look at, just looking at him from my peripherals. 

I buckled over on the floor, my huge muscular thighs catching me as I felt my pecs balloon out. I felt them moving on my body like gigantic tits. I felt a curl fall down my forehead and came again, my senses completely overloaded with lust and need. 

Getting up I looked at myself in the mirror, drunken with power as I cupped my new gigantic bulge. Slowly I caressed my abs, trailing down to my dick as I pulled it out of the jockstrap. Still hard, absolutely covered in cum it had to be at least 10 inches long. 

“Fuck yeah” i muttered, my voice deep, powerful, dominant.

[occamstfs]

Five Ways Home

Mystery car trouble incites Claude to figure out his way home. He can think of five options. No matter which option he chooses, the resulting changes are sure dull his mind into a younger man he'd dread to have in his lectures.

Five more short TFs, each following one man's rough ride home! All include some degree of musk, muscle, and a regression back to his own college days with far less brain weighing him down Hope you enjoy! -Occam

Claude was barely able to steer his car off into the shoulder as it started spewing smoke. Idling forward into a nearby parking lot to try and figure out his next steps, the young professor is beyond pissed at his stroke of bad luck.

After taking his time to recover and go over his best options to get home he finds himself of five minds. Six if you count just steering it back into traffic without looking both ways, but he’s not actually humoring that. Leaving him with this peanut galley of ideas:

He’s got a tool kit, he can give it a go. (Latino Twunk)

Get it towed to a shop and drive a rental. (Brainless Influencer)

He’s got the money for it, might as well uber. (OF Jock)

He does get free bus fare. (Football Bro)

Fuck it he can walk. (Horny Slob)

Fix It:

“God damnit!” After burning his hand for a third time Claude was ready to reconsider this whole approach. Just before throwing in the towel the young professor notices the dilemma. Holding his phone’s flashlight into the labyrinth of pipes under his engine he sees the glimmer of leaking oil.

‘Oh? Well that’s not too bad right?’ He thinks to himself squinting to find the origin of the sprung leak. He’s immediately distracted from his hunt as from across the parking lot a younger man shouts, sounding about the age of one of his students

“‘Ey Hermano! Nece- Need a hand?”

Yeah he’ll take whatever he can get, “S’yeah, please!” scowling at the pipes he tacks on an, “Hermano to hermano yeah?” The sound of flip flops echoes under the car and he second guesses inviting the man over. Preparing to chide the too casual footwear he gasps as his own feet cramp.

Quickly looking down to check his shoes he frowns as he feels his own sandals hug his wider feet tighter, Claude’s mouth falls open as something feels off. Didn’t he hate open toed shoes. Ademas- er also, are his feet darker? 

“So bro! ¿Qué pasa? What do you need?”

Mouth still open, the fumes from his car must be making him lightheaded. His arms feel heavier as the sleeves constrict and shrink into a jersey. Buttons dissolve into the same shiny lycra material of the rest of his shirt as it hugs a torso hardening as it grows to fill the clingy top.

“Can you get me el eh- the epoxi” His words are increasingly accented as his rougher palm awaits the sealant from his little bro. You shortens as if he’s more familiar with some other word for it? Words begin to swim through his head before they’re replaced with ones that feel more correct. More him.

His dress pants suction to his bulking thighs as they rapidly shorten into tight athletic shorts. With every lost inch they brighten into his fútbol team’s trademarked verde. So too do his atrophied legs darken and grow into meaty legs far more at home on the field than in the stands.

His companion shifts to speak entirely in Spanish. “Ves la fuga, Claudio?” (See the leak?)

Firmer arm lengthening to throw on the most temporary of seals, Claudio smirks as he feels some oil trickle down his arm.  It’ll just make him look more like a man, getting cockier he begins to smell his own heady musk even more prominently than the motor oil staining his sweaty arm.

And there’s nothing those twinks down at college want more than a real man. Dreamy look in his eyes he starts to get worked up as his sweat begins to suction lycra even tighter to his tight bronze skin. Well he can think of one thing they like more. 

“Ay guey! Don’t you have shorts that actually fit!?”

Dumb smile on his face, Claudio reaches down to bounce the still growing package only highlighted by his tight shorts. Mustache and goatee knitting itself across his face, his voice cracks lower as he claws out from under the car. “Es para sus, eh, classmates, si? Ellos love mi Claudito, mano!”

Scoffing Claudio’s little brother hops in the passenger seat as he waits for his older brother to drive him to class. “Rapidamenta Claudio!” Doing his best not to watch as his once role model waddles to put a tool-kit in the trunk before hopping in the driver’s seat and blaring reggaeton,  Claudio’s brother wonders if he just should have taken the bus…

Rental:

By the time he figured out how to unlock the rental that AAA dropped off for him, their tow truck had already made off with his own pitiful ride. Sighing as he sees a trickle of oil left in its wake Claudio takes a deep breath before sidling into the driver’s seat with a grunt. 

Good thing he did so before getting in as the scent of the car he’s now set up to drive is in not so many words abhorrent. Covering his nose with his hands, Claude’s lungs struggle against the air of a cabin that seems to have primarily stored some frequently used gym clothing. The pitiful attempt to cover it up with body spray did nothing but highlight the unmistakable odor.

As soon as he smells the musk, Claude begins to feel the heat that would surely cause it. Stodgy suit jacket still on he hurls it to the back seat before pinching the bridge of his nose at the humiliating state of his temporary accommodation. Feeling sweat trickle down his cheeks, he reaches up to wipe it with a sleeve only to be surprised at the lack of friction against his beard.

Right, his beard? Usually it’s way more annoying when he’s sweating but now the hair on his head seems to be holding way more sweat. Still almost panting in the humid air of the car, Claude reaches to turn on the air which does a great job circulating the b.o. if nothing else.

Scratching his cheek to find it sweaty and smooth, the adjunct, or T.A., whatever he is, shakes his head like a dog to try and find lucidity. The only thing this tactic produces is flinging globules of sweat as his straight previously-thinning hair lengthens into messy, sweat-filled curls.

Mouth dry despite the atmosphere of sweat, he clears his throat a few times and speaks to check his vocal chords like a mic. “Ugh I need- woah…” Grasping at his throat he can’t believe his ears as his tone sounds lighter, unburdened by a decade of lecturing and office hours. Beyond that it sounds well past the line of unintelligence “Fuck bro I feel weird. Like, good killer but weird…” 

Where his sweaty hair sent stains cascading into his made for a lectern slightly dressy suit, the fabric begins to cheapen and stain with even more salt as it reshapes into his cheap gym fit. Scratching at his chest as his thin, barely present pecs begin to pulse and fill his forming tank, Claude pulls down the mirror to look at his reflection.

This half moment of stunned silence drives him up a wall and he begins to fill every waking moment with his droning commentary. “Shit I look so good? Like I’m 22 again, erm. Wait I am twenty two right uhh, right chat? Wait uh, no who’s chat?”

Averting his eyes from his reflection as what’s left of his facial hair reforms into a mustache so blonde and sparse that it may as well not even hide on his upper lip, Claude turns to find his cellphone in a stand on his passenger seat. 

“Awh shit I was gonna stream after the gym wasn’t I?” Thoughtless eyes stare at his phone as his arms weary from a pump send a few tears through his sleeves before it entirely reshapes into a tank. “Well they won’t mind, they’ll eat up whatever they can get.”

Acting nonchalant as he starts the timer he waits as long as he can before speaking up, which ends up being one second as his body finishes readjusting. “What? You guys pissed? Trust, trust if you could smell my post-gym bro stank you’d be grateful I’m streaming at all steada just pumpin’ one out. LMAOOOO Chat- Chat C’mon heheh!” 

Turning his car into drive as he hears donations and messages pour into his inbox, the antithesis to a professional streamer hits the road. Left and on the wheel his watch reforms from a luxury timepiece to a cracked e-watch. 

“Shit might have to end early bros…” Taking a deep breath of his car he hears the water bottle crinkle against his crotch as he feels a post-gym nut calling to him. Side-eying the chat to see if anyone notices, keeping up the mindless charade of content creation until it is no longer a charade but who he is.

Uber:

“Hey thanks for the ride!”

“No problem no problem? Spose that smokin’ hunk of junk right there is yours?”

Slightly annoyed at the slight, Claude frowns as he gets into the rear seat. Given it is indeed immobile in a parking lot he lets it slide. “Yeah right on the money, I guess. Sir.”

“Hooah, wouldn’t expect someone like you to be callin’ me sir! I’m tellin ya, everyone’s always sayin kids yer age got no respect well I’ll tell em there’s good kids like youse out there!”

Having already assumed the driver was just complimenting him for being polite to someone below his station, when he suggests Claude is generationally younger than himself, the prof feels something isn’t adding up.

“Right. Kids my age.” Already feeling less charitable to the man, Claude yanks out his phone and inspects himself to see why this dumbass thinks he’s apparently some fuckin’ runt. Talking about respect like he’s not- Scowling at his reflection the anger rests heavy on his mind and brow before he realizes how aggro he was all of a sudden.

Claude brushes some hair drooping slightly lower out of his eyes before it stiffens and sticks up into some bushy crew cut before reaching to scratch his itchy cheeks. Surprised at his stubble being slightly thicker, really almost a beard, he does his best to raise his eyebrows out of a glare but they seem to just be resting lower on his face. Probably thanks to listening to that asshole in the driver’s seat yammering. 

God he’s itchy. Why’d he even wear this jacket!? Struggling to get it off he undoes his seatbelt which the driver would surely make a reasonably big deal about if he didn’t gasp in shock to find his car suddenly filled with Claude’s pridefully maintained musk.

Adjusting his mirror to look at his increasingly crude customer, the driver can hardly believe what has become of the polite young man he thought he was driving. In the process of raising a cheap sweat-stained gym tank to take a selfie, he scratches at wiry and thick hair racing to cover his slight muscled chest and tight waist.

Tongue drifting across his teeth, veins bulge out of his arms as his nipples puff out to a degree begging for a piercing. Stainless steel encircles every more usual site, piercing his ears as more than a few fingers feel cold metal tighten on his knuckles. 

“Hey kid, yer uh kinda in my… car…” Still half-watching his passenger as they drive down an empty straightaway, the driver sees a ringed hand reach down to pull at his pants. His newly formed treasure trail widens as it stretches tantalizingly close to a dick fermenting in its own sweat.

Pubes trimmed neater than the bushy stubble on his face, his thin fingers keep his free-balling cock just out of sight. After snapping a pic Claude’s eyes shift from a warm brown to a stormy blue as mysterious as the storm cloud surrounding them. They then make direct contact with his driver’s in the rearview mirror.

“Yo bitch, eyes on the road. This shit ain’t free.” 

Immediately gripping the steering wheel enough to cramp, the driver focuses on the road as much as he’s able with his nose still being assailed by his passenger’s post-gym aura. Hearing the man scratch at some bushy body hair, desperate to know which patch, the driver barely finds it within him to obey the man’s command. But he does. He’s a good- uh…

“Tell ya what bitch. You’re drivin’ me to a meeting with a ‘coworker’ right now. Gotta feeling I won’t be completely satisfied by the time we’re done working. You sit outside and wait for me and maybe I’ll find it within myself to give you somethin’ I know you want.”

Struggling to not pant, the driver can’t believe he’s being talked down to like this. Some small shred of his lucid mind swears he wasn’t even into men like this. Into men at all!?

“Yo. I asked you a question, answer.”

Stumbling over himself the driver nods, “Y- Sir yes sir. I’ll be right here.”

Sneering as he kicks open the door, he laughs as he wanders over to some other content creator’s house. “‘Sides it’s the only tip you’re gonna get from me so you better get ready, heh. Be out when I’m done.”

Bus:

It’s only right he uses the bus. He’s always telling his students to use more public transit. It would be hypocritical of him not to take advantage of the very same resource at this juncture. Finding it mostly empty, Claude’s prepared for a nice quiet ride home.

It is not to come as at the very next stop some less than considerate man sits directly next to him and begins humming along to something in his headphones. Immediately the young professor yearns for the bubble of personal space that a car allows. Quickly digging through his bag to find some headphones, Claude yearns to at least pretend like he’s alone.

Finding his go-to wireless earbuds dead, Claude sighs and prepares to simply raw dog this bus ride, as his students would say. Then miraculously at the bottom of the bag he finds some long neglected wired headphones in a tangled mess. Throwing one earbud in, he does his best to get the wire straightened out while listening to a podcast. 

Frustration comes quickly. Usually adept at untangling and cleaning up wires, something about Claude’s hands just feels clumsier today. Struggling to get his fingers to undo the simplest of knots is only making more of a mess. Beyond that his trusty NPR radio host is increasingly grating to him.

If he wanted to be talked down to he’d be back at school with uh, with Coach. What? No, with his dean or supervisor, he means. Obviously. Tabbing over to a playlist he doesn’t remember making, the sound of Drake is like a balm to his nerves.

Tension drips away from his shoulders as he rolls them back. Focussed intently on undoing the knot as he mouths along to a song he’d never be caught dead listening to. With each pumping beat of blasting bass and every slurred bar, Claude’s stick-thin arms begin to twitch larger. 

Slowly bopping along to the music his arms bloat to a size that would require daily trips to the gym to earn. Sinking slightly paler as they put on mass and strain his once baggy button-up, his dulling mind doesn’t even notice the inky patterns staining his rapidly developing forearms and biceps.

When he’s so intently focused on a particularly annoying kink in the cord, he raises his left hand to thoughtlessly start chewing on his nails. Realizing what he’s doing only when he finds the already chewed-up fingernails scratching at his teeth, he shifts to instead throw the wire straight in his mouth. Finding progress far more pleasant with the cord in his mouth, Claude smiles vaguely and redoubles his effort.

Arms absolutely tear his long sleeves to tatters as his wider chest pops off the top few buttons of his short before it reforms into a presentable gym tee. Needs to look good for the program. Oral fixation notwithstanding. Feeling a small cowlick on his forehead tickle his brow as it curls into a pouf of curls, Claude throws his hand into a much lighter backpack to retrieve a ball cap.

Tossing it on backwards, duh, the king of his team’s locker room smirks as he at last gets it undone. Immediately throwing up a celebratory flex that strains his just reformed sleeves, the team captain bumps into some nobody pencil-pusher who scoffs at him.

Not taking that sitting down the alpha just stares at him until he apologizes and gets back to whatever lameshit he’s doing on his ipad. Probably some jerkoff prof taking the public bus to set a good example, lmao. Claude wouldn’t be on this shit right now if his coach didn’t pay him to set a good example. Whatever that fuckin’ means. 

Whatever coach wants, coach gets. 

Fuck It I'll Walk:

“Fuck it, hehhuh… I’ll just ugh- walk he says…” Panting as his undone tie and suit jacket are already tossed into his bag, Claude is finding the spring day unseasonably warm. Dress shoes do their best to give him blisters more with every step as his slacks and starched cotton dress shirt continue to chafe.

Stomping up a hill, Claude moans that he’d rather be wearing any other shoe in the world right now aside from these expensive loafers he picked out exclusively to teach in. It just so happens after his next stumble his wish is granted. 

Looking down past his untucked top dripping with sweat, Claud can hardly believe his eyes as his leathery shoes burst off his feet to reform into significantly larger tennis shoes. Somehow not affecting his gait, Claude sees his feet balloon in size before they’re covered in tennis shoes that- well, let’s just say they’re not to his taste. 

Frowning down at them, as he continues barrelling forward, Claude watches as in real time they get even worse. Initially they’re at least clean, if not gaudy. With every dragged step onward they grow more scuffed and worn. Despite being a fair few sizes larger than his feet the man would swear he can see his toes and foot strain against the sides every so often.

Scoffing at the paltry sneakers, Claude finds a stoop to sit on and inspect them closer. Plopped down he yanks off the right shoe and is aghast at the intense scent that spills out. Exploding forth like he removed the cork from a bottle of wine, Claude finds far more sweaty stink within than this quick trip should ever be able to produce. 

So intense his eyes begin to water and something burns in the back of his mind, he forces his shoe to abate the stink at any cost. The professor(?) takes some time to make sense of the impossibilities now hanging at the end of his legs. Wiping the hands that touched those wretched shoes thoughtlessly on his pants, he takes a short breather. Not short enough however. As he sits there reposed, Claude begins to feel his shirt strain in the front. 

Looking down, no longer surprised at his rank choice of shoes, he is instead surprised to find a small stomach suddenly sitting larger on his waist. Reaching up to feel the gut slowly filling his button up, he feels an urgent urge to burp. One he simply can’t ignore. 

“BUURRRRPPP” 

Aghast at the break in decorum, Claude starts to reprimand himself when he feels his stomach bloat decidedly larger in response to the belch. When he feels a second, even more pressing burp rise from his growing stomach he bolts to his feet and begins sprinting homeward.

As the wind presses his shirt into his thickening torso it begins to tear into tatters. Exposed to the open air, his slightly thicker waist feels a new garden of curls drag through the soaring wind. Out of breath, he feels trickling sweat pulling his stubble into a messy beard as his usually neat crop thickens into a look more like to be found at one of his student’s wild parties.

In desperate need of water, Claude stumbles into a park for a fountain. Seeing a line formed he instead sprints straight into the public bathroom and forces his head under the sink’s faucet. Gulping down acrid metallic water he turns to inspect his reflection to find what has become of him. Shirt more akin to prisoner’s rags hanging off his shoulders aside, Claude’s gotta admit he looks fucking good. 

Snapping a pic for his dating profile as he uses what’s left of his shirt to sop some sweat off his hairy chest before just tossing it to the floor. Claude wipes his hair back and prepares to begin running once more. Having drunk enough water that each sprinted step home causes his stomach to glug, there’s a dire need for him to clear some room down there. 

Barely stilling the rising urge to just piss in public, Claude lets his mind stew more on the still present desire to burp. There’s an omnipresent tightness in his neck that makes it clear just how easy it would be. More frequently with every few paces he allows the slightest hiccup to escape him which causes his thick thighs and ass to bloat ever so larger.

Lower body picking up size and steam, when he feels new tears lance down his inner thighs Claud looks down and blushes as he finds nothing but bare hairy skin exposed. Shocked that he’s not wearing underwear he desperately tries to recall putting some on this morning. He can hardly believe it! After all he’s a proff- uh? Profess? A professional? 

Wiping his sweaty brow with a sweatier arm, he doesn’t quite remember what he may or may not have been a professional at, but when he at last storms into his newly dingy apartment just in time for his pant’s button to burst off he releases a mighty sigh of relief. Forcing his head into his pits to take a deep breath he can’t believe how good it feels to be home. 

Sniffing them like an inhaler he pauses in front of a mirror poses his ass from a few different angles. “Shoooot, I needa get some pics of that, my little bitch’ll be all over that shit.” Imagining his twink of the week salivating at the dream of eating him out, Claude throws on some tight briefs and falls onto the couch.

‘Thinking of u <3’ “Uhhh what was his name again? Eh doesn’t matter…”

[kylestfs]

New player!

Jake Evans hated being late, the kind of late that made his stomach twist because it meant thirty students would look up from their notes the moment he pushed through the door, already judging the sweat on his collar and the slight huff in his breath as he tried to act like everything was under control. Thirty-five years old, associate professor of early modern European history, tenure track so close he could taste it, and today the main campus path was blocked by construction tape and orange cones that forced everyone into a stupid zigzag detour. He’d already lost precious minutes, and when he checked his watch again the knot in his gut tightened further. Eight minutes left. Muttering under his breath, he stepped off the paved walkway and cut straight across the soccer field, dress shoes sinking slightly into the soft grass with each hurried stride, briefcase bumping against his thigh. The humanities building sat just past the far goalposts, a straight shot if he kept moving.

Halfway across the empty pitch a voice cut through the quiet afternoon air.

“Hey professor. Got a second?”

Jake slowed, then stopped, glancing over to see a middle-aged coach standing near the center circle in a black training jacket, clipboard tucked under one arm and a portable whiteboard propped beside him like he’d been running drills earlier. Jake pointed at himself, half-convinced the man was talking to someone else. “Me?”

The coach nodded casually. “Yeah. Quick favor.”

Jake checked his watch again. Seven minutes now. “I really have a lecture starting soon.”

“Two minutes max,” the coach replied, calm and steady. “I’m testing a new concentration drill for the team. Just need someone neutral to read a few lines off the board while I time the responses. You’re staff. Perfect.”

Jake looked around the field again. No players in sight, no practice gear scattered, just the two of them and the soft rustle of wind moving through the grass. He exhaled sharply, already regretting it. “Fine. Two minutes. That’s it.”

He dropped the briefcase in the grass and stepped up to the whiteboard. The coach handed him a dry-erase marker like it carried some kind of weight. “Read each one out loud. Nice and clear.”

Jake scanned the first sentence and let out a short, disbelieving laugh. I am nineteen years old.

“Yeah, no,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m not reading that. I’m thirty-five.”

The coach said nothing, just waited with that same patient expression.

Jake opened his mouth to refuse again, to walk away and salvage what was left of his schedule, but the words slipped out smooth and effortless, like they’d been waiting there all along. “I am nineteen years old.”

Heat bloomed across his face and spread downward in a slow wave, skin tightening as faint lines around his eyes softened and vanished completely. His jaw sharpened under the stubble that retreated almost imperceptibly, cheeks lifting into a smoother, fuller shape. Hair that had started thinning at the crown thickened noticeably, dark strands pushing forward to fall messily over his forehead in that careless, just-rolled-out-of-bed style. The slight hunch he’d developed from years hunched over books disappeared as his posture straightened naturally, shoulders settling back without effort. He grabbed at his face, fingers trembling. “What the hell…”

His hands looked younger too, skin smoother, knuckles less pronounced, veins less visible under the surface. Everything about his face felt fresh and tight, like someone who’d never known the drag of late-night grading sessions or faculty meetings. “No. No, I’m thirty-five,” he said, but the words came out in a lighter register, almost boyish.

The coach tapped the next line without comment. I train every single day.

Jake took a step back, shaking his head harder. “I’m not reading another word.”

But the sentence forced its way up through his throat like it had already been decided. “I train every single day.”

His stomach pulled inward sharply, the soft layer he’d carried around his middle for years melting away as if it had never settled there. Skin stretched tight over newly flat, lean abs that weren’t carved for show, just smooth and tight from constant movement instead of desk chairs. His shirt shifted against him, fabric lightening from pale blue to bright athletic white, buttons dissolving as the material reformed into a lightweight Puma jersey that clung lightly to his chest. Across the back bold black letters stitched themselves in place: BAUER 17. Jake stared down at it in disbelief, fingers clutching the hem. “I don’t even like sports…”

The coach tapped again. I am built lean and fast.

“I’m a history professor,” Jake said quickly, words tumbling over each other. “I have a doctorate, tenure coming, I don’t—” “I am built lean and fast.”

His legs reshaped next, thighs compacting as soft weight redistributed into long, lean muscle suited for quick sprints across grass. Calves hardened into clean lines. He lost an inch and a half of height in a subtle shift, settling at a balanced five-nine that felt lower to the ground, more agile. Jeans softened and lightened, creeping upward until they became white soccer shorts resting high on his thighs. “This isn’t real,” he muttered, voice unsteady. “This isn’t happening.”

The coach pointed to the next sentence. My feet are made for the pitch.

“Stop,” Jake said, voice cracking slightly. “Just stop.” “My feet are made for the pitch.”

His dress shoes creaked as leather twisted and narrowed around his toes, soles hardening into rigid plastic. Metal studs emerged one by one with small popping sounds until twelve dotted each bottom. The shoes became filthy white cleats, mud already crusted along the sides like he’d spent the morning sliding through tackles just for the hell of it. His socks stretched upward along his calves, thickening into long white athletic ones streaked with grass stains and faint sweat rings.

Jake stared down at them, pulse hammering in his ears. “This can’t be happening.”

The coach tapped again. My cleats give me the perfect foot stink.

He tried to clamp his mouth shut, but the words came through anyway. “My cleats give me the perfect foot stink.”

The odor rose immediately, thick and warm, cheesy and tangy, the ripe smell that builds after hours of running on hot turf. It filled the space around him, sharp enough to linger on his tongue. Jake wanted to retch but his lungs pulled it in instead, the scent settling into something familiar, almost comforting. “That stink…it’s awful,” he whispered, yet the protest felt weaker, like the smell was already part of him.

The coach tapped. My height is perfect for the game.

“I’m not…” “My height is perfect for the game.”

His frame locked in lighter and lower, exactly the build for a regular guy who played soccer just because it felt good to run around with friends.

The coach tapped again. My ass is firm and athletic.

Jake clamped both hands over his mouth, eyes wide with fresh horror. “No.” The sentence came muffled but clear. “My ass is firm and athletic.”

His butt lifted and rounded at once, flat soft cheeks tightening into high, firm muscle that filled the white shorts perfectly without any sag or overhang. It felt powerful, springy, ready to drive him forward on every stride. Then a small wet fart slipped out as everything settled, thick and pungent, earthy grass mixed with warm sweat musk. The stink hung heavy in the air, strong and ripe like someone who’d been on the field all morning. Jake’s face flushed scarlet, but the odor didn’t turn his stomach the way it should have. It smelled right, like it belonged to him now.

The coach tapped. My dick is small and fits perfect in my shorts.

Panic flared in his eyes. “Please, not that…” “My dick is small and fits perfect in my shorts.”

Everything down there drew inward, softening and shrinking until the length shortened and the weight lightened, sitting neat and compact inside the tight black Calvin Klein trunks. No extra swing, no noticeable bulge, just tucked snug so nothing shifted when he moved. It felt simple, normal, like it had always been that way.

The coach kept going. My upper body is lean for speed.

“I teach history…I have a boyfriend…” “My upper body is lean for speed.”

His chest narrowed slightly, ribs showing just under the skin as the remaining softness melted away into a flat, efficient build with faint abs shaped by constant running rather than gym sessions. Nothing bulky, just lean and light.

The coach tapped. My arms are strong for the ball.

“Stop this now,” Jake begged. “My arms are strong for the ball.”

The soft flab on his biceps and forearms slimmed into wiry, lean muscle suited for precise passes or casual throws. Shoulders rolled back into a natural, relaxed posture.

The coach tapped. My armpits sweat like a real athlete.

Sweat poured heavier, soaking the jersey in wide dark patches under his arms. “I can’t…” “My armpits sweat like a real athlete.”

The pit stink bloomed sharp and salty, thick masculine odor that lingered after hard sessions and never quite faded. It blended with the foot stink and the lingering ass musk, heavy and real around him.

The coach tapped. I only want girls now.

Tears stung his eyes. “Chris…we live together…I’m gay…” “I only want girls now.”

The flip came fast and complete. Chris’s face blurred and dissolved like it had never mattered. Instead thoughts filled with short skirts, long legs, glossy smiles, the simple rush of knowing girls were watching him after he scored just for fun. Straight. Straightforward. Normal. The old attraction faded entirely, replaced by something basic and direct.

The coach tapped. I am laid back and simple.

“My mind…my life…” “I am laid back and simple.”

The serious, analytical edge he’d honed over years of study dissolved. No more overthinking every detail. Just easy, chill, going with the flow, laughing with the guys, living for the next casual game.

The coach tapped. My hygiene is just the field sweat and stink.

Sweat cooled on his neck as the smells mingled—pit stink, foot stink, that faint ass fart musk. “I used to shower every day…” “My hygiene is just the field sweat and stink.”

The idea of scrubbing it all away felt strange now, unnecessary. The odors were part of him, comfortable, normal, like they’d always been there.

The coach tapped. I am Ryan Bauer. Just a regular guy who plays soccer for fun.

His voice cracked on the protest. “My name is Jake…I have tenure…” “I am Ryan Bauer. Just a regular guy who plays soccer for fun.”

The old identity slipped away completely. Lectures, research papers, Chris, the careful thirty-five years of building a life around intellect—all overwritten. He was Ryan now. Nineteen. Straight. Boring. Athletic in the most average way. Played soccer because it was fun to run around with friends, nothing more, nothing serious.

The coach tapped the final line. My mind is focused only on football and basic things.

Thoughts slowed to a crawl. History dates and complex theories turned fuzzy and distant, pointless. “I can’t remember any of that…” Ryan murmured, the words already feeling far away. “My mind is focused only on football and basic things.”

Everything sharpened into simple priorities: passing the ball, when to sprint, girls smiling from the sideline, hanging out with the guys. No room for deep thoughts or heavy books. Just dumb, straightforward focus on the game and whatever came next.

The coach tapped the very last sentence. I am a football player.

No resistance left. “I am a football player.”

The last traces of panic vanished, replaced by calm, empty clarity. His stance shifted naturally, cleats pressing into the turf without thought. Body felt light, ready, perfectly balanced for messing around on the field.

The briefcase sitting a few feet away looked absurd now, some relic from another life.

The coach folded his arms. “How do you feel, Bauer?”

Ryan rolled his shoulders, an easy grin spreading across his face like it had always belonged there. “Feels good, coach.”

A ball sailed toward him. He trapped it cleanly with the inside of his foot, no hesitation. Flicked it up and started juggling, touches lazy and instinctive. Without thinking he lifted the hem of his jersey and wiped the sweat from his face, black Calvin Klein waistband showing clearly above the muddy white shorts. Socks sagged slightly from dirt. Hair stuck to his forehead in wet spikes. The foot stink, pit stink, lingering ass musk—all of it mixed together and felt perfect, normal.

“Training starting now?” he asked, already shifting his weight, already moving.

The coach nodded once. “Right now.”

Ryan took off at an easy jog across the field, cleats clicking softly against the turf, every step simple and right. Behind him the briefcase remained open in the grass, papers rustling in the wind, completely forgotten.

He didn’t look back. Didn’t need to. His mind was quiet now, clear and focused on the basics. Soccer for fun. Hanging out. Girls. That was all there was.

He was exactly where he belonged.

[mystrangetfs]

24th Caption - Accident

Hey everyone here is the 24/31 caption - I really enjoyed making the images using ai for this one and the story itself.

As always here is the first paragraph and the rest is on my blog.

Richard cheered louder as the protest reached its end point, in front of the factory itself. It had been for manufacturing car parts but now under new management all the workers had been laid off and an Ai was now running the whole operation. What’s more, instead of car parts, this new company - Flipside, was supposedly creating sex toys and other dirty sex paraphernalia, even worse they were gay sex toys. Richard wasn’t going to allow this to happen in his town, he needed to protect the children from the harmful LGBT invasion that was happening, so he had been shouting and screaming all day. He was now the most hyped up he had been standing near the gates, chanting songs and waving his American flag. However, it seemed that the others in the march had lost much of their enthusiasm now that they had reached the destination. While marching through town there were people to shout at, counter protesters to argue with, but now at the deserted end of town with many derelict buildings and no other people around it seemed pointless shouting at an empty factory, but not for Richard.

Richard tried to rally the others and tried to get them louder but many were now heading home having done their bit.

Richard started to become frustrated “It’s not over yet! Close it down! Close it down! C’mon everyone!” Richard was met with a couple of voices joining in but many were leaving, content with what they had done already to protest the factory, but not Richard. Richard looked at the factory, there were no people inside, just this Ai. If he could break in and disrupt production, destroy the Ai or anything to show that the people of this town were serious about this perverted factory he would be hailed a hero! Richard waited for more people to leave before shuffling around the side of the fenced off area, the wire fence was easy to climb over for someone of Richard’s athleticism. He had been a footballer for most of his youth and now worked out regularly and while also doing some personal trainer work on the side. Richard’s large muscles made it easy to pull himself up and over, what’s more, with one powerful kick from his tree trunk-like legs he was able to bash open a door at the side of the factory. 

Accident

  Richard cheered louder as the protest reached its end point, in front of the factory itself. It had been for manufacturing car parts but n

[breedertfs-deactivated20240831]

I think a alpha daddy should be picking up a nice thong for his young bimbo girlfriend. Only for him to be changed into a bubble butt twink getting wrecked by a slobby ugly daddy, who is hung and rich.

Thrift Shift: Thong

Brad was a tried and true alpha, the kind of man who listened to "How to Double Your Wage and Keep Your Bitch Satisfied" podcasts unironically, which always ended in the same advice: "take what is yours, and fuck literally everybody else." Brad was macho and privileged thanks to his inheritance and father's teachings, a prime example of what happens to a guy who is allowed to follow the system of toxic masculinity. But hey, if you asked him, he had everything all figured out. He had a beautiful girlfriend who he'd happily make his wife once he was sure he's finally done playing the field. Kayla's hot and all, but he saw a chick at the bar with his buddies last night with the hugest rack, so he was honestly considering making a switch while the pussy was hot and available.

Still, today was their anniversary, not that he'd really make it obvious because days that aren't wholly about him, which is usually every other day, are the only ones he really gives a shit about. But it's a good excuse for one last fuck, and with the new thrift store opening up in town, he thought it'd be hot to get Kayla all dolled up and seeded before he gave her the bad news. Stupid as she was, she probably wouldn't get the hint until he has tossing her out the door, but that'd be her problem to deal with.

He shoved past the manager before he could offer an article of clothing, a low grunt and a clench of his lantern jaw, biceps flexing under the sleeves of his dress shirt. His gold chain rested coldly on his pec shelf, and his dress shoes clacked sharply on the tile floor as he approached a bin of feminine lingerie. He reached in with his large hand and scooped up a lacy thong, already imagining the string between Kayla's crack and tight against her pussy, and he adjusted his bulging crotch with his palm. "Sir, I think that you would look just just great in those-" "Did I fucking ask?" Brad turned to sneer down at the store owner, a short and average joke of a man. Who did he think he was to speak to a customer of higher standing? "And what kind of perv are you? The only person that should be wearing a thong is one with a cunt." The clerk chuckled, low and cold, and a static charge filled the air. The hand holding the thong started to tingle, and Brad felt his stomach flip with anxiety.

"But what about a person with a boi-cunt? Don't you always say how much you love having a wedgie against yours, Bobby?" Brad opened his mouth to retort, but all that came out was a gasp as with a poof! the thong disappeared from his hands and, judging from the sudden tightness around his groin, took the place of his boxer briefs. Brad snarled, "What the fuck do you-" but the clerk only lifted a finger to his lips and hushed him like a child.

"I was speaking to Bobby, not you. Everyone has a little cock hungry slut that lives inside them." Strangely and terrifyingly, Brad felt his control over himself become clouded in a numbing fog, like he was forced to stand there and listen to his maniac drone on and on, but he couldn't move. "Lower your pants and let me see." Against his will, he unbuckled his belt and lowered his pants, turning on his heel to proudly present his thong-covered ass, string tight against his puckering crack. Brad banged at the walls of his mental prison, but nothing budged. Without any say on his part, his body moaned highly, hands reaching to grope himself but only focusing on his butt and hungry hole. It was humiliating to be doing this in public! "Do you like how it feels, Bobby?"

Brad urged himself to say no, to beg this wizard to stop with his trick, but he was powerless as a fruity and giggly voice left his mouth. "Yesss, daddy!! They're, like, sooo cute too!! Legit the best anniversary gift ever!" It felt like Kayla's dialogue had flooded his new mouth, except the tone was so boyish and gay that Brad felt repulsed by the words leaving his own body. He couldn't do anything to stop the new man, or lack thereof, in control. Bobby poked at his hard pecs and unbuttoned his shirt to frown at a hairy stomach. "But I look so..." Manly? Powerful? In charge? Brad tried to fill in the blanks, mind grating from the shrill tone that wouldn't listen to him. "Gross and scary!! Don't I deserve to look cute and pretty and small, daddy? Pleaseeee, you know I love being the little spoon!"

The clerk chuckled as Brad screamed, stroking the still-masculine cheek of the man, but still only speaking to Bobby, who was now in control. "And when I give you the fat ass of your dreams, what kind of man do you want to be the one to fill it? Because I can be anyone you ever possibly dreamed of, Bobby. It's about time you got a say in that brain of yours, after all." The emerging twink giggled dumbly, bouncing up and down in his place, still firm pecs pouncing as he does so. "Ooh, daddy! As long as you have money I'm happy! But, ummm, I love to feel used and weak and it always turns me on when you get sweaty. I want your ass to get all hot and dirty in your khakis, and then I want to lick it clean when your shift ends. I just want to service you and your horse cock, daddy!!" Brad could only start wailing, clawing at his mental prison and unable to do anything but watch and experience as Bobby laid the groundwork for his new life.

The clerk was more than happy to help, after all his store would be successful no matter what form he took, even be it a sweaty slobby daddy with a trophy boy who had an insatiable need for his big cock. Better a money hungry twink than a toxic masc douche who thought he could do whatever he wanted without punishment. The owner was more than happy to make Bobby's fantasy come true, and he'd see that it stayed that way as long as they were happily together. He snapped his fingers and the world shifted.

"OOOH, DADDY!! PLEASE COME FILL ME! OH MY BOI CUNT IS SO WET AND SLIPPERY, PLEASE DADDY MY FINGERS AREN'T BIG ENOUGHHH!" Bobby moaned and writhed against a plush king size bed, pretty much the only place he cared to stay. His thoughts and ambitions fizzled away like pink bubbles, popping as they went. All he needed was his daddy's cock between his fat, jiggling cheeks. Brad gazed in horror at the small, pathetic form his once alpha figure had become, mourning the loss of all his masculinity. But Bobby only moaned and kept grinding the sheets.

Brad, now shackled and forever powerless, stared through Bobby's eyes at the new and improved store owner, now the huge and hairy and musky man that Bobby dreamed of spending the rest of his life getting railed by and cared for. And the clerk was more than happy to oblige the twink, but there were a few matters of business to be taken care of before he could be properly fucked.

"Get your tongue in daddy's ass and start cleaning, then daddy will let Bobby bounce on his cock to his heart's content."

[mystrangetfs]

Scientist to big dumb himbo tf

Hey everyone here is a tf sequence that I had commissioned by @itsmaxbishop. The arrogant scientist just wanted to make his muscles bigger so he could fuck more, only for his creation to swell his muscles to unmanagable sizes and a cock constantly horny all the time. The dumb idiot now spends his free time jerking off, his cock constantly erect and buzzing with pleasure, his mind melting until all it can think about his rubbing his enormous dong.

[mystrangetfs]

In need of assistance - AI muscle growth himbo sequence

George adjusted his tie and got comfortable in his chair as the IT guy tapped away on his computer, as head of marketing and sales he was eager to get this new AI assistant programme some of the other department heads had been raving about. It was said to make organisation, spread sheets, emails and data analysis a breeze.

"There we are Mr Harris, the programme is installed and I have done most of the set but I have left the customisation for you to finish. Mr Higgins down the hall went with a woman with a sweet, southern sounding voice but I think you can create an avatar and everything."

"An Avawhat?" George said while raising an eyebrow at the man about to leave. Who was about to answer before George's human assistant walked in.

"Avatar Mr Harris, is like a body for the computer assistant they have installed. Speaking of which do you think I could have one as well, it would help with scheduling and organising so much easy."

George scoffed "Johnny this programme was very expensive and cutting edge, the company isn't going to waste it on assistants. Now grab me a black coffee and a doughnut I have that meeting with the Europeans up on 78 in half an hour." George said dismissing Johnny and turning to look at his computer not noticing his assistant pouty face and whispered curse word as he went to fetch the coffee and snack.

George looked at the programme and lent closer to read the small text, at 58 his eyesight was only getting worse and being in front of screen all day wasn't helping. George read some text and barely understood most of the jargon but then read a word he had only learnt about moments ago. "Upload Avatar" George muttered and then his thoughts turned to what the IT guy had said about Higgin's new AI assistant, perhaps he could upload some hot twenty something bimbo with blonde hair and pigtails. George looked around as his cock started to stiffen in his pants, hearing a sexy dumb blonde every time would certainly make work more interesting. George then happily clicked upload and suddenly a sharp electrical shock ran through him, his computer screen turned a vibrant blue as a swirling portal like hole appeared. George's instincts were to pull away but he was quickly and violently pulled towards it and before he could even let out a yelp his whole body was thrown forward and his whole world began to spin.

George's whole vision went black and he felt like he was floating, he tried to shout but no sound emerged from his mouth, he tried to move but it was like he was embedded in rock. Then a white light flashed in front of his eyes and slowly his vision started to clear, he could see the window in his office, his filing cabinets, his office chair and his computer keyboard but something was off, the angle was wrong. George blinked more as he tried to search for his computer screen and what had happened to it and to him but, with the electrical buzzing around him, his new view and perspective George quickly understood why he couldn't see his computer. It was because he was now stuck inside of it and looking out at where he had just been sitting!

George tried to move again but his arms and legs stayed firmly down by his sides, the tried to scream for help but while his mouth opened and moved no sound emerged. George panicked he was like a mime trapped in a box except he was now a chubby 58 year business man trapped in his own computer! George's panic was then interrupted as a knock came from his office door and Johnny walked in holding the coffee and doughnut he requested.

"Mr Harris I have your coffee and I got you a selection of do- Oh, and you are not in here...great. The dick must have already gone to his meeting."

George was screaming for Johnny to see him, to help him but his muted lips did nothing to attract Johnny's attention as he dropped the coffee and doughnut on the side. George flailed against his invisible bonds but his body refused to move, he needed help desperately as he screamed until his face went red and then Jonny's face appeared in view, looking curiously at the computer screen where he was trapped. Johnny then came closer and sat down at the computer and George breathed a sigh of relief Johnny would see him and save him! This trapped nightmare would be over and he wouldn't be late for his meeting up on the 78th floor. However, George started to become worried as Johnny grabbed the mouse and started clicking but did not acknowledge George at all.

"Eurgh of course the asshole would make his AI assistant look like himself, what a fucking narcissist"

George tried to yell out, to explain that it was really him , he wasn't AI that he was trapped but his little sad expression and flapping mouth did nothing to attract Johnny's attention and he started to click on tabs and windows around George, his little electronic body feeling them around him and without reading he found himself knowing and sensing what the text said, it was like he was part of the computer, part of the network! George was bombard with a ton of information and he processed it all within moments all without his consent.

"Looks like IT did a good job setting him up." Johnny then looked to the office door and out the window to see if anyone was looking his way. "I'm sure Mr Harris wouldn't check if I take a copy of the programme home, but I ain't taking you Mr AI Harris" Johnny laughed as he clicked on the customise option.

George could sense the window that appeared around and even though he couldn't move to read it he knew exactly what it said, it was as his mind was connected to the computer. He could see the detailed description of his body, his face, his outfit and his overall impression where he was a little offended by the title of 'sale support role'. However, George quickly got over his offence as worry plagued him as he felt Johnny click on the appearance and began to edit, change and type.

Johnny typed away and spoke to himself "If I'm going to have my own AI I’m not having some chubby old guy, no thanks!" Johnny then began changing George's description and as he typed George felt something in him changing, something buzzing and electrical as his code started to get eaten up and rewritten to Johnny's liking. George tried to scream but his little open mouth was ignored by the rapidly typing Johnny. George squirmed as he could feel what Johnny wrote about the man being handsome and 20 years, young and fit. His hair being styled and neat, his eyebrows striking and his eyes now blue.

George winced as his felt his entire body buzz and change as the weight from his belly rapidly reduced and a strong flat stomach replaced it. The fat around his arms, legs and face also vanished and a smaller bulge of muscle appeared to give him a toned and athletic body, while his face buzzed with electricity as his eyes changed colour, his hair lengthened and thickened into a suave chic style as his eyebrows were shaped and plucked into line. George tried to shout again as his faced buzzed as he grew younger, his skin getting smoother, his jawline becoming more defined and masculine until he looked like a much young, more handsome version of himself. George would have been thrilled at the changes if he had been the one in control and not trapped and under the command of his assistants whims!

"That's better." Johnny said but it was obvious he still wasn't impressed or finished. "I think we need to get you out of that stuffy suit. I know how about..." Johnny said before trailing off and typing away. George still tried to shout to Johnny even though he knew it was pointless, he had no voice, he had no say, he had no control! George could only whimper and he felt Johnny's changes to his clothing typed up beside him. Gone was the suit and instead it was slowly being replaced by an outlandish, bright and deeply homosexual outfit. George could feel his clothing being stripped away as his jacket faded to nothing and his expensive dress shoes shimmered and changed into big white trainers with neon stripes. His trousers receded exposing more and more of his legs until the stopped at his upper thigh, the material became shiny and pink and attracted attention to his bulge. While his shirt became see through as it turned to a mesh material, the bottom became cropped exposing his lower abdomen and a deep v appeared down the chest exposing his chest. Everything became tight and revealing and George felt exposed and vulnerable but could do nothing to cover himself up!

"Ooh looking hot!" Johnny said pleased with the next outfit George was sporting even though George was still desperately calling for help and getting no response. "Hmmm but now that your body isn't covered up it could use some improvements, I wonder how big I can make you"

George winced, what did Johnny mean by big? George didn't have to wait too long to find out as Johnny's typings went straight to his head and immediately began editing his body. It started with his height as he grew taller by an least another foot, then his muscles started to expand. George's back grew wider and his shoulders rounded as his deltoids surged with new mass, capping his frame like cannonballs. His biceps throbbed and inflated dramatically, veins snaking over peaks that rose higher with every heartbeat, while his triceps hardened into dense horseshoes beneath them. His legs grew just as rapidly and wildly as his quads ballooned outward as thick columns of striated muscle pushed his legs apart. Then came his chest and George now understood what Johnny was talking about when he wondered how big he would get, as his pectorals ballooned outwards and hung from his chest like tits. The massive mounds of muscle blocked his view looking down and in his mesh shirt, his hard nipples were impossible to hide. George desperately wanted to move he wanted to feel and see his new body, not just know that he had changed. He hated how his brain seemed to be directly connected to the computer and even though he wanted to shout to escape a new part of him wanted to tell Johnny about his spelling mistake and a better way to phrase his sentence!

"Damn those are some big titties" Johnny chuckled enjoying creating his own assistant, blissfully unaware of the turmoil George was going through. "Hmm while I like it, I do think I need to look at someone a bit more exotic on my home screen" Johnny said as he started to type carefully thinking more carefully about what he meant.

George once again yelled, his silent scream ignored by his engrossed and now slightly horny assistant. It was only one small change to his description but those few little words, 'muscular Brazilian' changed everything about George as immediately his brain was flooded with Portuguese and his English knowledge was greatly reduced. George's skin started to darken as a deep rich bronze tan raced from his head all the way to his toes, his hair turned jet black and thickened considerably. George could feel his nose widen and his lips plump up, while his pectorals seemed to expand even further becoming even more prominent and oversized. George found his mind buzzing as well as instead of memories of home he found himself remembering a tropical beach, volleyball, carnival and the sounds of the rainforest. George tried to shake his head as if to shake the new memories away but his mind continued to buzz as his new code replaced his family, friends and home with an entirely different set of memories of living in South America. George just wanted to cry, he wanted to be himself, he wanted to be free and no longer did he want to be tormented by Johnny.

For the first time Johnny seemed to notice something wasn't quite right about the muscular, Brazilian hunk he had created as he looked at his shocked and sad expression. Curious, Johnny clicked on another tab and began reading before finding what he was searching for "Oh now I see why you have that sad look on your face." Johnny said and for the briefest of moment's George had some hope, hope that Johnny had finally worked out it wasn't just a programme that it was his boss who was trapped and was silently begging for help for the last 10 minutes!

"The man is hard-working, dedicated to the company, will feel hurt and disappointed if he fails the user, needs to be working 24/7 with an intense love for work and giving 100% to the company. A perfectionist and detailed orientated workaholic. Jesus no wonder you are miserable, standing around must be killing you. Don't worry I don't think I need someone like that. In fact looking at that beautiful face and sublime chest I doubt you are going to help me with much work." Johnny chuckled as he moved his hand to his pants and adjusted his growing erection before typing again. George wanted to scream as Johnny was no longer changing his appearance he was changing his very personality. Johnny started by erasing his eagerness to work, his perfectionism and his memory of all the knowledge of the company and soon it was replaced with gym routines, diets, locations of gay clubs, cocktails and gay club wear and fashion. George's mind swirled as he desperately tried to cling to his years of experience, the years he has spent working his way to the top but all of it began to slip away like it has never existed. George thought of his wife and kids but their faces now felt like images from an old dream. Instead all he could remember was eating plain chicken breast, working out his chest, chatting with other gym bro's, drinking to much and dancing until the early hours of the morning. George wanted to cry as his life was rewritten effortlessly into an entirely new person. George whimpered as Johnny typed up his new personality with words like 'bubbly, vapid, kind, sultry, arrogant, confident, show off'. George's mind began to slow as his jaw slackened and his stance relaxed. His terror and fear was pushed to the back of his mind along with any traces of the old him, who was trying with all his might to hold on but was losing. George felt his expression change as although he wanted to scream the new relaxed, vapid, vain him just smirked enjoying how much of his body he got to show off.

Johnny was now very pleased and now had one hand down his trousers as he touched his cock, while also looking at the door to make sure no one was close to approaching him and his himbo AI assistant. Johnny then moved the cursor over to the new George and to his delight found he could move his new assistant so he could see his new creation at all angles. George felt like vomiting as he was violently spun around on the spot, his face however also looking back out at the screen. George's panic and fear was concealed as the new Brazilian him who was more worried about his muscles than being trapped as an AI for his old assistant just smirked and flexed.

Johnny grinned as he looked at the back of his new creation and the cute little bubble butt that strained against the shiny pink hot pants.

Johnny then couldn't help himself, he had already given his new AI massive pectorals perhaps he could give him an ass that could rival their size. George was terrified and embarrassed as he felt his ass cheeks being to swell and expand, however the new him was thrilled as new thoughts of thongs and bent over ass selfies entered his head. George was fighting a losing battle as his cries for help, his humiliation were all confined to a rapidly shrinking area of his mind. When his ass cheeks had finished ballooning. each was now the size of basketball and wobbled obscenely as Johnny moved him around. Johnny was almost salivating over the man he had created and part of him was now wondering what to do with him, since he wasn't appropriate for work.

"What am I going to do with you...George? Eurgh I can't have you named after my boss!" Johnny pulled a disgusted face before tapping his fingers and thinking, then with a lightbulb moment he began typing. George could only scream "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" as his name was erased and so was the last of his control and the new him took over, the new himbo, vain, arrogant, show-off him took over. Rodrigo took over.

"Yeah you look much more like a Rodrigo and someone like you isn't going to be working in a silly office." Johnny smiled as his phone buzzed with the familiar notification sound that came from his dating app and suddenly Johnny knew what to do with Rodrigo.

Johnny then went into the inner workings of the AI settings and decided to give George or rather Rodrigo a new function. George could only whimper as his function was written deep into his very being. No longer would he be managing a team of accountants and setting up million dollar deals, no instead it seemed he would now being managing Johnny's dating life. George tried to fight back what was being written into his very code but it was pointless he had no control as Johnny rewrote his very purpose. 'Rodrigo's primary directive is to find attractive, muscular men from ages 18-50. Rodrigo will search all appropriate men's profiles, pictures and videos. Rodrigo will store and file all images and videos sent, organising pictures and videos and saving overtly sexual and adult content. Rodrigo will analyse images to find men with large penis's and large, shapely buttocks. Rodrigo will store and organise adults videos by type, length and fetish for example armpits, piss, farts and double penetration. Rodrigo will also search the internet for appropriate videos when requested by the user. Rodrigo will always present as sultry, sexual and horny willing to please his user with all requests.' Johnny smiled as his horny brain took over as Rodrigo would become his personal porn and hook up assistant, the best wing man a guy could ask for.

George just began sobbing as he realised what the rest of his life was going to be, he was going to be nothing for a gloried porn bot! A straight man trapped and watching, searching and organising hours and hours of gay porn and thousands of hours analysing men's bulges and butts. He was a smart, sophisticated, intelligent man now reduced to a pair of bouncy pecs and a fat peachy booty. George could already feel his body thinking of lewd poses it could stand in and out of no where a pink lollipop appeared and his new body stuck its tongue seductively and smirked a his new user and master.

"Fuck you are so hot Rodrigo, you first job is to find me a real guy that looks just like you" As Johnny moved the cursor and clicked the finish button, George Harris ceased to exist besides a tiny line of code trapped in the new himbo's head.

"Now let's see you in action big guy" Johnny then opened up the website for his dating profile and sure enough Rodrigo popped up. George was then barraged with images of men as he was forced to stare at their cocks and ass cheeks, analysing every single one. Looking closely at muscular men's physiques and faces to discern who Johnny would find the most attractive. However, George's disgust would never be seen as Rodrigo was thrilled at the bounty of beautiful men and had already found 8 that Johnny might like.

"Fuck all of them are so hot! How did I ever live without you Rodrigo?" Johnny smiled as he pulled out a pink flash drive from his pocket. "Now you are coming home with me, I need some action tonight and you are going to find me the perfect man."

George was sobbing and crying as he felt his entre being being sucked away and into darkness, taken away from his office, his life, his friends, his family all to become Johnny's new assistant where he would never get a raise and never get to go home.

The first few weeks were brutal for George as he was used endlessly and he organised over 500 hours of gay porn from the basic sex to the hardcore stuff. George had looked and watched hundreds of jerking cocks, dildo's in assholes and muscular men posing and flexing that his mind had almost started to snap at the thought of him watching this kind of content for the rest of his life. He programme would run continuously, meaning he never slept and never stopped, it was constant gay men for him every seconds, of every minutes of every day. George cried out for a break or even a change from the thousands of hours of porn he was forced to watch.

However, Johnny quickly found other programmes where Rodrigo could be useful. George was thrilled at the possiblity of being used for something else but it seemed that Johnny had been curious about a new adult fantasy role play game and he had just the right character to upload. Rodrigo was more than thrilled to flirt, kiss and fuck all the different characters but George on the other hand, he would never stop screaming when he had to spend the night with Gurt and Klugg the biggest horniest orcs on the internet.

[mystrangetfs]

A fun assignment- Muscle growth ai sequence and story

Alan and Mac stayed after class as instructed by their politics and economics professor. Alan shuffled awkwardly with his books trying not to look at the mountain that was Mac, the jock was huge in height, weight and muscle mass. Alan wrinkled his nose as he got a whiff of sweat and body odour that was radiating off of Mac, he couldn't believe that they even attended the same college, let alone the same class. How was it that such a dumb mountain of muscle was allowed to coast along while people like Alan studied day and night. Alan had just spent nearly two weeks solid in the library writing his report on the power of words of authority while he assumed Mac must have spent it in the gym. Both men then turned to their professor, he beamed at them both. "Thanks for staying guys. I wanted to let you know that for the next assignment I'd like to pair you up for a debate. After reading both of your recent papers I think it would be enlightening for both of you to spend some time working together".

Alan almost gasped at the news but stopped himself.

Alan turned and sneered at Mac who instead grinned with delight. Of course he would be happy, he'd have a nerd to do all the work thought Alan before turning back to his professor and coming close enough to whisper.

"Please sir, is that really necessary? I don't have time to babysit some odorous gorilla."

The professor just looked down at Alan with a small amount shock and frustration "Yes. It will be good for both of you." the professor said sternly and turned and left leaving Alan alone with Mac once again. "Odorous gorilla huh?" Mac said almost amused but with an undercurrent of anger. "I'll show you odorous"

Mac then proceed to grin like an idiot and bend over pushing his enormous muscular bubble butt directly towards Alan, the threading of his shorts ached as the massive muscle stretched it out to his limits. Alan had no time to react as Mac grunted and unleashed a booming, thunderous fart that blasted on for a strong 10 seconds before then bombarding Alan's senses with the concentrated scent of protein and ass.

Alan gagged as the smell assaulted him, the shock and disgust he felt soon turning to anger as Mac laughed at his own foul fart and Alan's pathetic reaction.

Alan was filled with rage as he pinched his nose which did nothing to get rid of the scent that now seem to stick to his nostrils and tongue. Alan's voice came out as almost a scream as the furiously little nerd dropped his books and pointed a the chuckling behemoth.

"You beast, you animal! You monsterous, smelly, dumb oaf! How the fuck did they let someone like you into college its a disgrace!" Alan said red in the face with fury.

However, Alan's fury quickly subsided as he looked at Mac who after being insulted was no longer laughing and instead now looked rather threatening and Alan realised he had just called a man twice his size a monster.

Mac then spoke into a loud commanding tone that instantly made Alan retreat into himself. "Monsterous? Dumb? Smelly? Is that all you think of me as? That's disappointing Alan, I was actually looking forward to working with you since we both got the highest grades on the last assignment." Alan almost whisper "Highest?

"Yeah I found out some really interesting things when researching words of power and how they have been used in history. For example I learnt this neat little phrase -" Mac then took an deep inhale before then with a deep resonating shout said "ym eciov sdnammoc ym eciov si hturt" Alan was confused by the jibberish and after standing in silence for a time finally asked "And what does that mean?" Mac then grinned an almost sinster smile "It means that you will take off your glasses and smash them on the floor, you don't need them anymore." Alan assumed it was just a threat, Mac's penance for Alan insulting him. Alan had no intention of smashing his glasses but then something odd happened, his hand moved without his consent and grabbed them from his face. Alan whimpered "Wait what's happening?!" confused as he dropped his glasses to the floor and raised his foot. "Stop! Why -crunch, smash, crunch"

Alan found himself violently stomping on his own glasses his body moving autonomously and without his control. When they were fully destroyed Alan found himself looking back up at Mac. He should have been blurry and hard to see but instead he was as clear as crystal, like he had never needed glasses in the first place.

Alan now more fearful look up at Mac's grinning handsome face and asked "How did you do that? Why did I just do that?" Mac smiled "Words have power and those words have an awful lot of it." Mac then paused and folded his arms which made him look even more imposing. "Those words, they help me to command the truth, which is why you no longer need your glasses and it is also why you no longer dress like a dork and instead dress like a gym obsessed frat bro who loves attention." Alan was still confused but then he felt a breeze on his legs and saw his trousers starting to shorten and his shoes turning bright yellow. Mac wasn't just commanding the truth, whatever he said became the truth! Alan looked down in horror as his modest button up shirt changed to yellow, its sleeves vanished and the fabric shrunk until only a ridiculously skimpy stringer tank remained. Alan's trousers became bright as they turned from boring grey to neon pink and then pulled themselves up past his knees up and to his thighs, leaving even more of his thin, pale, skinny body exposed to the world. Lastly were his shoes, the bright yellow covered them as they morphed into obscene sneakers that could be seen from a mile away. Alan could only look down in shock as Mac let out another chuckle at the skinny 100 pound nerd in the outfit of the most arrogant bodybuilder.

Mac grinned "You always dress like this even through the winter, you have to be noticed." Alan then felt something in his brain change, a slight fuzz spread across his memories and now whenever he thought back he was dressed in similiar attire, every class he was in a tank top, even in the snow he was rocking the short shorts and his closet at home would blind him with the neon colours. Alan then looked at Mac was pure fear in his eyes, he hadn't just change his appearence here and now, no... he had changed his entire past and his memories!

Alan turned to Mac and started begging "I'm sorry Mac! I am sorry I didn't want to work with you, I am sorry I called you names, I am sorry that I assumed you were just a an idiot jock! Please just change things back, please just let me go!" For a moment Mac's expression softened and for a second he considered letting Alan go and living the rest of his life in his new ridiculous outfits but then Alan's insults came back to him and his smile deepened. "Monsterous...dumb...smelly oaf. Very unkind words I have to say Alan...but words that describe you perfectly." "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" Alan screamed as suddenly his whole body felt like it was on fire as his muscles started to flex and itch and swell. Alan winced in pain as his bones started to lengthen and his height increased pushing him upwards. His arms and legs ached as muscle began to grow and expand, his thin torso widened as abs and pectorals began to form as Alan started on his journey to jockdom.

Alan was terrified as the heat inside him then seemed to double as every muscle in his body grew expontially larger and his entire frame grew wider and more unwieldy. Alan looked down and saw his chest grow two large, plump, round pectorals that jutted out like a shelf, each one then flexed and bounced involuntarily. Alan groaned as his torso quickly sported a six pack which very quickly turned into an eight pack as his whole torso soon looked like had had been sculpted from marble. Alan then saw his biceps balloon as thick veins came to surface of his muscles and his biceps grew to the size of cannonballs. While his legs and thighs thickened and soon rubbed together due to their sheer size. What's more behind Alan his once flat pale ass had grow into a shapely round, perfect peach that was hugged delicately by his tight workout shorts, showing it off to everyone who would walk by. Alan now had the body of a gym bunny but still the heat increased inside him.

With one more painful burst of heat and energy Alan felt every part of him grow as his legs, torso and arms all grew in size. Alan looked at Mac pleadingly as he grew to match the jock's eye line and then kept going higher until he was three inches taller than Mac. When the heat finally subsided Alan was taller, heavier and more muscular than Mac, he had to be at least 6'5 and over 280 pounds of pure muscle.

Alan cringed as he looked at his new massive physique and how much of it was now on display due to his tiny skimpy outfit. Alan wanted to keep pleading with Mac but the jock placed his hand on his shoulder and cut him off before he could speak.

Mac was almost giddy as he looked at the newest mounatin of muscle on campus "Now that's the monsterous part, now here comes the dumb part, but don't worry Alan I'll let you keep all those smarts they'll just be locked up inside that head along with your nerdy self and who you used to be." Alan was about to protest when suddenly the fuzz in his head returned and everything suddenly became harder to piece together. What was it that he wanted to say? Why was he so worried? Was there something that he wanted to stop? Didn't he use to think good? Was that the problem? Even a slight bit of drool started to form at the edge of Alan's mouth as all his knowledge of college, high school, elementary school and everything except the basics was sucked away to a tiny little part of his mind that his body no longer could access. Alan tried to get to it but it was like his mind was walking through thick mud and the more he tried to get to it the less he felt in control of his body and instead it seemed something else was taking control.

Mac grabbed his new creation by the shoulder smiling as he watched the twinkle in the eyes that use to be Alan become trapped at the back of his own mind. Mac then gave the walking wall of muscle a little shake "Hey bro you in there? Earth to Atlas my best bro are you in there or are you too busy thinking about the party tonight?" Alan no longer could do anything as the fuzz in his brain started to clear and when it did Alan no longer recognised the memories and thoughts. No longer was he studying in his room for hours on end, no he was partying and or going to the gym with Mac and his bro's. There was memories of him drinking and smoking weed, getting tattoos, banging babes and being the best mate to his bro Mac. Alan wanted to scream as his old life, all that education all of his smarts, all of his achievements were erased and replaced with some arrogant asshole gym bro who only cared about his appearence, partying and his best mate Mac.

Alan could only sob from inside his mind in the body of Atlas as tribal tatoos covered his arms, a gaudy gold chain and watch attached itself to his body, while diamond studs appeared in his ears, while his whole body took on an almost fake tan hue. Alan wanted to scream and cry, he wanted his body back but no matter what he did he was still stuck in the mud of his mind, the intelligence and knowledge, his past life all there but until able to take control of the dumb oaf he had become. Alan then felt his stomach rumble and his new body grinned at Mac. "And here comes the smelly part" Mac said already starting to laugh as Atlas turned around and pushed out his pink short clad bubble butt. Alan desperately wanted to protest and was thoroughly humiliated as he bent over and unleashing a droning, spluttering, foul smelling fart that left Alan sobbing for mercy as he smelt the stench he had now produced and would be forced to smell for the rest of his existence.

"Get a whiff of that bro! That could peel that fucking paint off the walls!" Atlas shouted incredibly proud of the stench he had made and making his best bro laugh. "You monsterous, smelly, dumb oaf! Get that ass away from me!" Mac laughed as he playfully pushed at his new bro's gaint gas producing ass. "Phew we better get out of this classroom before we stink it out!"

Mac then put his hand on Atla's back and he returned the bro affection by putting his arm round Mac's shoulder. The two bro's laughing at the stench they had created as they left.

"So what are we doing now bro?" Atlas asked while casually flexing a bicep.

"I've got to find a new debate partner for this class, you have gym session with the boys." Mac said before waving to Atlas and leaving him on his own, where the new monsterous bro found himself blasting ass and then heading to the gym with a tiny almost silent scream echoing at the back of his head.

[shrouded-stories]

Chubby Lifestyle

Planning for the club was the hardest thing ever, with all the business and having to take care of the wife. Barely, and I mean Barely, were you able to find a open spot to go to the bar.

You hadn't been to this bar in forever but all you knew is that it got bought out by another company. But it still remained as a bar, you were interested and seeing if there beverages had stayed the same.

You put on the finest suit, a little tight, but what's wrong with a little muscle hanging out. It's not like you dont already have a wife . .

Once 9:45 hit, you headed out. You sayed your goodbyes and opened the door to your SUV and hit it down the road to the bar. Grab a drink and go, that was your idea. You pulled up into the reserved parking spots, payed the fees. You noticed a abundance of huge vans with graffiti all over them.

"Alot of people must have showed up today" you say to yourself, probably crowded in there. You looked up at the new sign.

"CHUBBY BEAR BEAR"

"Thats a wierd name" you say out loud. Must of been that new company that purchased them. These bears might be really good if they can "knock out" a chubby bear.

Once you opened the door to the bar, you see a bunch of chubby men just laying around drinking. Some using each other as beds. You notice one of them staring at you with a man on his stomach.

He gives you a strange grin and you simply walk past him. A strange oder follows, the whole place is completely stunk up. You can nearly breath under the perfound odor.

You collect your composure and head straight over to the bartender. He's juggling the bottles like a professional, you notice that hes the only one in the bar (other than you) that isn't really chubby,

"How can I help you sure?" He says, "Suprise me man, and make it quick, I wanna get out of here" you relplie. "WHY is that? To, much for you?" He replies slighly. "OK man, just hurry up" you say hastily, "ok ok, no need to rush."

He grabs a bottle and shakes it up, hands it to you. "This one's on the house" he says.

You thank him and take a sip to make sure it taste good. It has a funny little taste, but its, intoxicating. You become addicted instantly. You want more, you've NEVER wanted something so badly.

The bartender notices this and already about 20 bottles waiting, you chug and chug them down. You body becoming more sluggish, your tissues feeling light. You feel like your getting bigger, you muster all your strength to throw the bottle away. A crowd starts laughing and booing, some start to chase you. "Whats wrong with these people" you think to yourself. Once you enter the bathroom you open the huge stall close your eyes and slam the door shut.

You open your eyes, looking at the handle and quickly locking it. You feel a sense of relief and anxiety, you look down at your body, your stomach is pocking through the shirt and your pecs are wider than they should. You jump back and fear but knock into something causing you to fall, you look up and see a towering figure above you

He doesnt even look at you, just grabs you by your arm, unlocks the door. And drags you out the bathroom. You plead with him to let you go but its almost like hes a zombie, not speaking and even looking. Just has a dumb smile and a huge body.

He throughs you into the crowd of people, all of them screaming as your body gets bigger. They grab bottles and start pouring the liquid on you, you swat at them to get away but they swarm you and retain you. You think about your business and wife, but they feel like a distant memory. Your body keeps expanding. Your stomach feels full,

Your mind feels dull, you stop resisting and start chugging again, not out of your own self control but because you love it. It has to be corrupting your mind- NO

Its not "corruption", its purification. You love the taste of the bear, the hard earned sweat of the musk. Your belly is your pride. Your pecs your own milk cushions

You are amazing, the primary life line. Your bros need help, just lay on my stomach, the pecs just provide extra nutrients. The transformstion is compete, you are the best you could possibly be. All the fellow bears cheer for YOU,

You hear the door to the bar creak open, a new victim for your special drink. You'll make sure they love it, you stare at your future prey.

They have no idea what's about to happen

[forthegaze123]

"Jerry, please, I'm begging you. Turn Caden back like he used to be."

"You know what, I'm kinda regretting telling you all about this... stuff. I guess you're next, Bobby. Or should I say... Brad?"

"What? No! Make it stop! I can't take it... stooo-bzzzt bzzzt bzzzt-woaaahhhh... Hello, cutie. Wanna help your bro licking this ice cream? Or you want me to lick something else?"

[odins-playthings]

variations on a gooncave

[malehypnofantasy]

This you? @goonbatept2

[brandedx2]

The clothes make the man.

[brandedx2]

Close encounters.