Becoming A Mindless Bro

Just another guy tryna enjoy the pleasures of life n become a mindless jock bro

[the-masculine-alpha]

HABITS that every "Dumb Meathead" should develop, presented in an extreme and explicit way:

TRAINING HABITS: BEAST MODE ACTIVATED

1. *LIFT LIKE A DEMON*: Crush your workouts like your life depends on it. No excuses, no mercy.

2. *WARM UP LIKE A PRO*: Don't even think about starting your workout without a proper warm-up. You're not a rookie, act like a pro.

3. *TRACK YOUR PROGRESS LIKE A HAWK*: Monitor your every move, every rep, and every weight. You need to know exactly what's working and what's not.

NUTRITION HABITS: FUEL FOR THE BEAST

1. *EAT LIKE A KING*: Fuel your body with the best nutrients possible. No junk, no excuses.

2. *MEAL PREP LIKE A PRO*: Plan your meals like a military operation. You need to know exactly what you're eating and when.

3. *HYDRATE LIKE A CHAMPION*: Drink water like it's your job. You need to be hydrated to perform at your best.

RECOVERY HABITS: RECHARGE AND RELOAD

1. *SLEEP LIKE A BABY*: Get at least 7-8 hours of sleep every night. You need to recharge for the next day's battle.

2. *STRETCH LIKE A YOGI*: Take care of your muscles like they're your most prized possession. Stretching is not optional.

3. *TAKE REST DAYS LIKE A PRO*: Don't be afraid to take a rest day when you need it. You're not a machine, you're a human being.

MENTAL HABITS: MINDSET OF A CHAMPION

1. *SET GOALS LIKE A BEAST*: Set goals that scare you, goals that push you to your limits.

2. *STAY FOCUSED LIKE A LASER*: Stay focused on your goals like your life depends on it. No distractions, no excuses.

3. *SEEK SUPPORT LIKE A WARRIOR*: Surround yourself with people who support and motivate you. You're not alone in this battle.

[darkboydesire]

[darkboydesire]

[muscledeluxe]

[howtohimbo]

Hey dude, I'd love to be turned into a brainless jock bro. Jacked, dumb as a brick, always sweaty and musky, so horny all the time I go from gay to bi... You name it.

Yeah bro! A lot of guys have this dream. You have to turn your kink into a lifestyle. Which isn't that hard to do. We can start easy! Alright lesssgo. 1. Body First – Build the Frame - Build the Discipline Aim to go to the gym 3 times a week. If you are new to the gym, do full body strength training exercises. Rely on machines to teach, and train you new form. There will be days where your tired and don't want to go, but those are the days you have to push yourself and go anyways. Make it a habit. Soon, you will be craving the gym because it's an escape from reality. 2. Listen to Hypnosis / Subliminal There are some great Dumb Jock files out there. I really like Ex Body's subliminal, which you can loop while you sleep. (You don't need to wear headphones, and you can't hear any of the affirmations) Check the comments out, there is a lot of people who say they've seen major changes. Here are some good SoundCloud Hypnos:

3. Exposure to Simple Media and Porn The best way to dumb yourself down, and make yourself horny to everything is getting rid of all the smart entertainment that you get. Delete apps that show you news, and get apps that will rot your brain like TikTok or Instagram. Scroll for endless hours, and create a feed and algorithm that will be pure goony brainrot. Expose yourself to different kinds of porn (including str8), watch the stupid plots in those pornos. Even if you don't enjoy it, just keep watching. Don't stop. One day your libido will be so high, you'll get off to it.

[heteroformative]

Messy

The masterful @c0rruptedz brings all the ideas to the table.

The apartment was tidy, the windows were welcoming in a gentle breeze, and the space smelled of lavender, just the way I liked it. I had always been a clean-cut kind of guy–it was one of the first things that my boyfriend and I had bonded over. “Cluttered space, cluttered mind” is what they always said, and boy was it true. Having the floor swept and the bed made kept me in check.

From my phone, I heard a soft ping.

“Babe,” I called out. “Maycee’s on her way!”

“Maycee who?”

“Maycee from Psych. We have our final coming up on Friday so we're gonna do some prep work together.”

Hayden strolled out of our shared bedroom. He was twunkish; as a swimmer his build had always been sculpted and shaven. Hayden was a perfect counter to my slimmer frame, which I topped off with a meticulously-styled head of luscious chestnut hair. The amount of money and time I spent on looking sharp was embarrassing.

“I’m so sorry, when did you tell me this?” Hayden knew that he was in the wrong. I was always on top of everything. 

“Hmmm…last week?” I coyly replied. “Don’t worry, Maycee and I won’t get too rambunctious.”

Hayden had been studying for his own finals, although he liked to do so in silence. “Do I know at least know this Maycee?”

“Um, maybe?” I thought for a moment. “Medium height, long brown hair, kinda loud but still nice. We have had a few classes together.”

“Wait, Maycee Evans?” Hayden’s face flopped into a frown. “Dec, I can’t stand her!”

“Really?”

“She’s siblings with Trent, one of the guys on the team,” Hayden explained. “She shows up at like every party and gets super messy. I don’t care if you want to have fun but then she always comes over to me and bitches and moans about her life. And you know why, because she LOVES gay guys. I’m talking obsessed.”

“Have you asked her to stop?” I asked.

“Yeah, and it went horribly,” Hayden sighed. “I explained that it was getting to be a bit much and she blew up on me. Full psycho. Heck, there’s probably a diagnosis for her in your textbook.”

I frowned. “I had no idea, I’m sorry. She’s already on her way though.”

Glumly, Hayden surrendered. “No, don’t worry about it. You had no idea. I’m just going to hide in the bedroom until she’s gone.”

“Ok.” A text popped up on my screen, announcing Maycee’s arrival. “I’m really sorry again.”

“You're fine,” Hayden replied, shutting the bedroom door behind him.

“I’ll bring you snacks every hour!” I shouted. Hearing Hayden chuckle behind the closed door brought a smile to my face.

— 

“Holy smokes! I had no idea your apartment was so gorgeous, Declan.”

“I had no idea anyone still said ‘Holy smokes’,” I replied, closing the door behind us.

“Seriously, I’m so jealous. This place is so nice.” Maycee strolled around the main living space, taking in every piece of furniture. The white couch Hayden and I had spent hours cleaning after purchasing it online. The perfectly aligned gallery wall filled with pictures of our friends. Even the coffee table books had a particular order to which they were laid out.

“Well, should we get to this then?” I eventually said. “I don’t know about you but I’m definitely feeling worried about this final.”

“Whatever,” Maycee scoffed, approaching the dining table. “You’re one of the smartest guys I know. And the cutest.”

Maycee ended her remark with a wink. I smiled awkwardly before taking my seat, Hayden’s prior statement flashing through my head.

“So, tell me,” Maycee started as she flipped open a textbook. “Are you currently seeing anyone?”

I shook my head. “I had no idea your procrastination tactics were so impressive.”

“Hey! I’m just trying to make conversation.”

“And I thought we were here to study.”

Maycee laughed, “Can't we do both?”

“I’ll tell you what, we can earn it,” I countered. “Let’s at least do a little work before we digress. Is that fair?”

Maycee pouted before softening into a smile. “Ok…”

We studied together for an hour, absorbing as much information as we could. Sometimes we asked each other a question or two, other times we read in silence. Every now and then, I could feel Maycee’s eyes on me. If I had had any hair on my body, it would have sprung up in these instances. But I ignored her glances and continued my work. Eventually, Maycee announced that she had to go to the bathroom.

“BRB!” 

The bathroom door locked behind her and within the same revolution the bedroom opened up. Hayden stepped out and made his way into the kitchen. 

“Just gonna grab a few things,” Hayden said in passing.

“You know, you could just come out whenever you wanted,” I teased. “This is our apartment after all.”

“Yours,” Hayden corrected, as I did in fact willingly pay a larger portion of the rent. “And no, I don’t want to interact with her.”

In less than a minute, Hayden had snatched his snacks and refilled his water bottle. He almost made it back to the bedroom unnoticed.

“You HAVE to tell me where you got this soap!” Maycee swung open the door, revealing Hayden mid-scurry. “It’s so-”

The pair locked eyes. The tension in the room grew thick.

Hayden was the one who spoke first. “Maycee…It’s uh, good to see you.”

Maycee raised an eyebrow. “Why, because I’m sober?”

“Wow, that was fast,” I said. “Look uh, Maycee, why don’t we just get back to studying.”

“Hold up, are you two…” 

Hayden and I watched as the puzzle was pieced together in her mind. Not that it was a big puzzle, but enough to momentarily silence her.

“Oh, this is just too good,” Maycee finally said. There was a darker undertone to her voice.

“Maycee, I-”

“Shut up, Hayden.”

With a flick of the wrist in his direction, Hayden’s lips snapped shut. Immediately, I knew something was off.

“Maycee, is everything alright?”

“Perfectly, Declan,” Maycee grinned. “But I think I’ll close you up for now too.”

She wove a hand towards me and my mouth instantly closed. I tried to say something in response, make any noise, but I was silenced. Hayden and I made eye contact, both stunned by this shared development.

“I’ve been meaning to get back at you for the things you said, Hayden.” Maycee’s voice had grown icy. “Because of you, I’m no longer invited to any campus parties. Trent said it ‘wasn’t healthy for me’.”

Maycee had Hayden drop what he was holding and move into the living room. It was at this point I realized I could not move.

“I honestly don’t know what Declan sees in you,” Maycee continued. “He’s one of the sweetest guys I’ve ever met. Is that why you like him?”

Maycee allowed Hayden’s mouth to open so that he could reply. “Yes! I-”

“Stop.” 

Hayden’s mouth slammed shut once more. I shifted my gaze between Hayden and Maycee, unaware of what was to happen next.

“Tell me, Hayden,” Maycee’s grin returned, crueler than before. “What else do you like about Declan?”

Hayden’s face was freed, but before he could speak, Maycee specified her question.

“Let’s start physically.”

“He’s my type!”

The words came out rushed, as if the truth was being ripped from Hayden’s brain.

“And what’s your type?”

“Skinny, on the shorter side-”

Maycee cut him off and then turned her head to face me. The three of us sat in silence again for a moment–two of us forced to–as we waited for something to happen. Suddenly, I felt a strange ache blossoming through my system. Although I could not contort my frozen face much, I was able to close my eyes. When I reopened them, I was surprised to find that the room had shifted. Before, I had been just below eye-level with Maycee and had had to tilt my head to meet Hayden.

Speaking of Hayden, his eyes had dramatically widened, but I had no idea why. To be fair though, I was probably just seeing things. Being well above six feet did that to a guy, everything seemed a bit out of proportion when compared to what the average human being saw. And I was anything but average. I was not one to brag but one should recognize the hard work they had put into their body. Spending night after night in the gym for over half a decade could really create results.

Satisfied by something–I was not sure what–Maycee asked her question again. “What else?”

This time, I noticed Hayden trying to keep his mouth shut. He failed: “Twinkish-!”

I had been that way for the longest time. While all the other boys had hit puberty, I missed the cutoff. For some reason, the bus decided to pass my stop.

Until it arrived a couple of years later of course. And it made up for lost time! The other boys used to joke that I was some kind of bear thanks to the pelt of hair I had. Furry legs, furry arms, a full rug up my chest and down some of my back. I had to shave my body every day for Hayden, even if it annoyed me. But by nightfall I would already have a stubble. The hair was just too dense-

“-and odorless!”

And it brought a funk with it too! No matter how much deodorant I put on, how much body wash I lathered in, how long we kept the diffusers running, there was always a bit of my natural musk hanging around. It was on the heavier side, more footy than sweaty. Hayden and I sometimes argued over it, I tried to explain that I could not block out that locker room cloud no matter how hard I tried. But I still did, for him.

“Let’s go over some mental qualities next,” Maycee said. “What makes Declan’s personality so attractive to you, Hayden?”

“He’s clean and coordinated-”

“Is he?” Mayce taunted. Had I been able to, I would have defended myself. Was the apartment not enough evidence? Did my general attitude not prove itself? If she wanted, I could have walked over to the bedroom and grabbed the stacks of planners that I kept handy.

Well, had kept handy. I had thrown them all out because they proved to be useless. I just went with the flow, wherever the wind took me. Why would I need to be so anal about everything? Money, politics, even my hair, which was just one simple scoop of product to swoop the dull brown up into something manageable for the day.

The apartment set the scene too: dishes piled up in the sink, dirty laundry scattered across the floor. I was sure Maycee had spotted the yellow stains around the toilet bowl, and the floor. Who cared about all this crap? It was just too difficult to freak out about it all when there were more fun things in life, like drinking and working out and having sex. Hayden did not agree with me, except for that last part sometimes.

“What else?”

“-he’s thoughtful!”

Hayden’s eyes were tearing up. No matter how rocky the current situation and our relationship at large were, I still felt for him. I was worried about him. I wanted to know why he was in pain, why he was so worried. I wanted to know-

…I wanted to know why he was being such a bitch. I wanted to know how much longer this stupid magical interrogation was going to take. I was getting sick of Maycee and even more sick of my pathetic situationship. Yeah, we were both gay and yeah, we sometimes fucked, but it was not like serious or anything. A hole should not have feelings attached, you know? I have more important things to care about: my wants and needs.

As if having witnessed some horrible event, silent streams began to flow down Hayden’s frozen face. God he was such a fucking loser.

“Hayden, don’t cry,” Maycee frowned. “It makes you look so messy.”

Hayden’s eyes grew red.

“Our boy Declan here is almost finished, but I think there’s just one more thing we’re missing.”

Hayden's tears stopped, the floodgates closed.

“This is kind of a leading question but, Hayden, in regards to sexuality, would you say that Declan is your type?”

“-yEs!” Hayden choked out.

“And why’s that?”

Hayden’s red face grew purple. Whatever he was about to say, he did not want it to escape. 

“--because…he’s...gAY!”

Hayden gasped for breath, finally freed from Maycee’s power. I however remained frozen, forced to continue watching the scene before me. Hayden’s muscular frame was covered in sweat, his body begging for someone’s aid. Someone to tell him everything was alright. Someone to tell him he was loved.

Obviously though, that was not going to be me. It was not my fault the faggot was, well, whatever the way he was. Plus, why was I supposed to give a fuck about him when I instead could stare at the juicy breasts pushing out the front of Maycee's shirt. How had I never noticed the size of those knockers before? Despite being frozen, my thick schlong began throbbing against the seams of my smelly gym shorts.

“I hope you’ve learned something from this, Hayden,” Maycee said. Suddenly, I felt a certain looseness to my body. I had finally been freed of whatever had been holding me in place. The first thing I did was let out a juicy fart, adding to the wet, masculine blanket of stench that suffocated the room. Then, after giving my hungry pouch a hard squeeze, I shifted over to Maycee, placing an invisible line between us and the homo.

“Baby, you done yet?” I asked impatiently, slapping one of my mitts onto her soft ass and giving it a squeeze. “I wanna dump a load, pronto.”

Maycee smiled, “I think we are, Derek.” She said my name like there was some kind of double meaning behind it. “Hayden was just about to leave. After all, it's probably too messy here for him.”

I blinked, bored and too horny to play into whatever she was getting at. “Yeah, uh, sure.”

Not bothering to wait for the stranger’s departure, I picked my girl up and brought her to the bedroom. The walls were covered in miscellaneous trophies and jerseys, like the one I was wearing. Within moments, I had her on the bed with my fat cock driving deep into her, ready to unload. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the faggot watching us from the doorframe, but I did not mind giving him a free show. Not like he was ever going to get a piece of this anyway.

[howtohimbo]

So You Want to Be Daddy’s Dumb Himbo Trophy Boy?

Once you start. It’s hard to go back…

Body: Massive, obscene muscle. Huge bouncing pecs, veiny arms, tiny waist, and a fat, jiggly bubble butt that begs to be grabbed. You’ll eat, lift, and grow until you’re a walking wet dream. Thick thighs rubbing together, always pumped and ready to show off.

Mind: Properly retarded. Empty-headed, giggly, and slow. Thoughts melt away. Big words confuse you. You’ll drool and flex while repeating “Dumb boys don’t think, they just serve Daddy.” The dumber you get, the hornier you become.

Sexual: Your holes are Daddy’s property. Leaky, desperate, and always eager. You’ll beg to be used, choked, and bred like a brainless whore. Moan loud and take it messy. anytime, anywhere.

Perks: Luxury life, no responsibilities, black card, constant praise, and mind-melting orgasms when Daddy allows them.

Side Effects: Old life fades. You’ll get addicted to his cock and approval. Too stupid to go back. Too horny to care.

Empty head. Massive body. Owned by a rich Daddy.

That’s the dream.

[bigandhuskyfellows]

my mechanic keeps me up to speed

[jerkingnerds2jock]

Christopher to Topher

Hello everyone!! I know I have been gone, i have explained it but I wanted to share some of the things I got commissioned, this first piece was commissioned, Hope you all enjoy, there is a sequel as well!

I wasn’t always like this, a big, beefy, hunky, smelly, hairy, hot, sexy…. I wasn’t always this meathead okay. Fuck i’ve been getting so distracted lately, like my brain can’t focus, like my thoughts were going through molasses. Ever since I met HIM I haven’t been ME.

It all started last week, I was how I’m supposed to be your, normal average TWIG- no don’t interrupt me, lean nerd. My hair was chocolate brown, the sides cut short and the top long and wavy, resting on the side of my face. My skin was pale because I HATED leaving my dorm room, the outside sun and my allergies didn’t agree with me so it left me to my hobbies indoors, reading, writing and playing TTRPGS online with my friends LOSER, LAME, BORi- SHUT UP.

Sorry about that the voice in my head, the loud, horny, gay as fuck jock won’t leave me alone. 

As I was saying I was your typical nerdy Geology student. I was lean, maybe a lil paunchy because of the freshmen 15 and my lack of willpower to maintain my body but I was having the most fun and freedom of my life. I kept myself shaved smooth and my body so clean any girl could eat off it. Just like the room I lived in, more spotless then probably your favorite restaurant. The campus messed up with the living arrangements so I had a single dorm to myself, which meant I could keep myself, my space and my life tidy just the way I liked it. The RA was decent and I was even talking to this cute girl in my geology program, Anna. Life made sense and I didnt care what anyone else thought for once.

That is until BRAD moved in, Brad was this stereotypical dumb football Jock. Apparently the university was experiencing some room shortages (shocker the place that mismanaged rooms at the start of the semester would do it AGAIN) and since I had space they sent me an email to EXPECT another roommate in a week. They sent me some details like his name, his contact info but besides that I was going in blind.

Man do I wish I lost my sense of smell instead. When Brad opened the door I smelled him before I saw him. It was like a fog of filth rolled into my room. Hours of sweat and musk swept into the room, causing my eyes to water and my throat to choke. As he stepped in the lingering scent of sex and cum wafted off him. He smelled like if a football practice was in a porno and my worst nightmare was having sex.

His footsteps loud on the tile floor as he made his way in carrying two duffle bags of poorly packed dirty clothes. His arms tensed and flexed, his biceps bulging out like mountains, his shoulders wide and beautiful with a loose tank’s straps draped across them slightly covering the pillow pecs that rested underneath. His neck was thick and corded with muscles as facial hair rested against his adams apple slowly growing up into a beautiful beard that framed plump lips. His nose and cheek bones were strong and chiseled like a statue as his brow bone loomed over his eyes giving him this fuck boy/frat jock look that probably drove sorority girls wild.

 His shirt rode up  exposing abs that looked like the cobbled streets of rome, his hips were graced with cum gutters and a treasure trail that made your eyes look down at his 3 inch inseam shorts that left little to the imagination. My own straight eyes couldn't help but look at the monster bulge that was begging to be set free. His thighs stretched everything to the limit as his calves shaped like perfect diamonds carried him to the empty bed next to me.

“Yo, you're my new roomy now sick!” Brad said dropping his bags on the floor, the clothes immediately spilling out as the zipper wasn’t fully done. My jaw basically hit the floor as my ideal life was eviscerated in seconds as fear for what the next year would basically be. If only I had known just how AWESOME- no terrible it would actually be.

The musk was strong especially when, he heard no response and IMMEDIATELY went up to hug me, my stunned body and weak form stood no chance of escape or defense as he picked me up with ease, his sweaty masculine HOT- no, manly physique picked me up like I weighed nothing. My face buried in his pecs, his body hair tickling my nose as his cleavage suffocated me.

“Sorry, what did you say?” he asks, putting me down, my face covered in his sweat. I try to just shake it off, mentally I was thrown off as I struggled to come up with some sort of thought. I hadn’t said anything right?

“it’s..Its not important, the names Christopher, Brad right?” I say holding out my much smaller hand. This meathead immediately grabs it. “That's right Bro look at you catching on!” he says, not mockingly I think just as a statement. From his GORGEOUS- STOP IT ALREADY I'M TELLING THIS STORY IF I'M TRAPPED IN HERE- as I was saying from his face all i could see was dumb innocence as he immediately picked up his bags dropping more clothes onto the floor. This semester wouldn’t end I thought

“Hey Brad, I know you just got here but do you mind we talk about some ground rules for the dorm” I say, sitting on my bed watching him, each movement he makes a flex. 

“Yeah dude, as long as you're chill with me putting my shit away as we do.” he says nonchalantly, he empties out the contents of one bag completely, the smell of dirty socks and underwear filling the air, eyes starting to water.

“Yeah that's no problem..i..i actually wanted to start with talking about expectations and keeping the dorm clean is first.” I was hoping to just get this out of the way, it would be less awkward, and he’d know where I’d stand.

“Oh Bro I totally get it!” he says literally making a mess by shoving some of his pants balled up into his dresser, his bed already unmade.

“Well I just want to make sure we have a standard, the floor stays clean, beds made and its easy for me to focus on my studies.” I say trying to make sure he understands me. His muscles were insane as he put clothes away, each movement felt like a flex, like he was showing off for me but he couldn’t be. My eyes didn't want to leave his muscular back but as he turned to face me, his perfectly framed lips curled in a smile.

“I gotchu BRO no need to worry.” The way he says bro bouncing around in my head. Like there was more emphasis and weight to it. Its like the back of my head is tingling, a warm energy filling me to my core as I listen, before shaking my head. Brad was holding a crumpled up thing of underwear in his hand, the smell obnoxious but what really took me out was the way his arms were at his sides, almost crossed across his torso, making the pillowey pecs rest and jut out. It made me feel insecure looking at this adonis, his body built to make women’s mouth water theres no way I could bring a girl back here.

“Do you like games Bro?” He asks attention going back to his stuff.

“Yeah I mean I like Dungeons and Dragons, Magic The gathering, Yu-gi-oh is pretty fun..” He interrupts me.

“Nah i mean like video games, fifa, COD, Rivals, league?” He asks me, moving over to my bed sitting down at the head of it. Folding something.

“I, i don’t really play many I guess.” I say rubbing the back of my head, he was probably covering my bed in his smell.

“What bro really?! That's crazy, well I know what we're doing as soon as my pc gets here bro!” he says slamming his hands down on my bed, unbeknownst to me sliding a dirty jockstrap underneath my pillow. His face filled with excitement and joy, god I’d have to make sure he didn’t get in the way of me and Anna.

“Oh..uh okay good yeah! I’m down for that. Just uh one other thing about the dorm.” I say looking down, my head was starting to feel fogged up.

“Yeah bro? What is it?” He says leaning forward making eye contact with me.

“To make sure theres no big distractions are you good with not bringing any girls over, my coursework is super heavy and im fine with notice I just want to make sure that-”

“Woah Chris, breathe, you ain’t gotta worry about me bringing any chicks over!” Listening to him I took a big inhale, my vision getting hazy as I nod my head, jaw going slack. I didn’t even care that he called me Chris, I hated when people called me Chris. I can’t help but let out a sigh of relief. Okay, that was one problem I wouldn't have to worry about. I didn’t question why, my head fully fogged up, mind running slow, I just felt like I could trust him.

“Great bro.. I mean Brad, I’ll let you finish up*yawn* I’m gonna sleep.” I say motioning him to get up. He raises off the bed as I get settled, not changing into my pajamas like I always do. My limbs feel heavy, mind so tired and my shirt is sticking to me as I see my bro Brad stand in front of me. Ass right in my face and all I can think is damn he’s ho-

________________

That morning was the worst I had had in a long time, my head hurt, I had missed my alarm. This meant I couldn’t shower and the room was a mess, clothes were still on the floor and that adonis of a man was fast asleep. I hadn't even changed, I was filthy and smelt like a locker room as I raced to my lecture, my feet moving faster than I was used to, I assumed it was the adrenaline, not realizing with each slap of my shoes bottom my legs stretch slightly. Foot getting meatier, longer, wider with each step, pushing it to its limits. I barely made it to my lecture before the doors were permanently closed. The eyes of my peers on me.

Everything my professor said was like water off a duck's back. I couldn’t take anything in. Every time I thought I was getting a grip on something, taking a deep breath, its like a fog rolled through my mind, setting me back to square one. I still smelled like Brad from last night. The sweat, musk and grime sticking to me like glue, god I wish my lecture would do that. Before class was even over I could tell my classmates had moved away from me, recoiling from the scent, even Anna seemed to turn her nose up at the scent.

I had tried to answer a question at some point, our professor opening up the floor to us in discussion. Basic geology fundamental question about how the different rock formation types interact within environments exposed to new catalysts or something. But I fumbled my words, my mouth feeling dry, voice cracking like I was going through puberty. It made me want to shrink in on myself, adjusting in my seat as NOTHING felt comfortable.

Even my clothes felt off, laying on my skin weird, I kept pulling my shirt and adjusting my pants. I was only saved when the class was dismissed, Anna hanging back to walk with me, her face looked sick.

“Christopher are you…are you okay?” She asks, her beautiful face was crested with worry as she looked me up and down. I was the most disheveled I’d ever been.

“No, no..not really you know that new roommate I was getting?” I ask her, trying to be vulnerable, when did Anna get so much shorter. I can’t help but think that as I looked her up and down it's like she was at my chin now instead of my forehead. I wanted to question it but as soon as my mouth open a burp came out of nowhere. I can tell Anna wants to help me but it was just so gross. 

“y..ye..Yeah Brad right, you said on paper the guy was a total douche and you were like dreading it?” She asks waving her hand in her face, like she was wafting off some terrible smell. For some reason that motion alone had given me the ick, sure I didn’t smell great but that was just being a man. Wait where had that thought come from.

“Yeah, well he was like that as soon as he walked in the door, full muscle headed jock carrying his dirty laundry right to our floor.” I say waving my arms, raising them and exposing my now slightly hairy pit. That seemed to make Anna’s face worse, I could see her hold her nose, whatever attracted me to her fighting to hold onto the idea she was perfect. Because if she was perfect she’d admire this smell, she’d realize all the hard work that made that smell, how the grind never stops for them gains. What the fuck am i thinking I don’t work out, thi..this is from Brad.

“God that sounds awful, is that why you were late this morning?” She asks, getting further away. God she was so annoying 

“Yeah, I guess that was him too.” I say getting uninterested in her, why was I even talking about my bro- I mean Brad with her.

“Well If he is causing issues you can always bring it up to student housing, I'm sure they’ll at least hear you out!” She says trying to sound hopeful for me, like if brad went away I would snap right back, I took a deep breath. I DIDNT WANT THAT. I couldn’t tell why I thought that, I did want him gone.

“Thanks Anna, I gotta go and try to clean up, i’ll talk with you later.” She nods, waving off, I still have to give her credit though. She might be annoying but damn was she hot. Maybe I didn’t want a relationship anymore but I wouldn't mind bangin- Fuck what's gotten into me.

________________

Getting to the dorm felt worse then sitting in that lecture. My clothes felt tighter, every step felt faster, and sweat was dripping off my face and running down my neck. I tried wiping it, feeling stubble graze my hand as I did. 5’ o clock shadow but I don’t- fuck the smell was so strong. 

I got to the dorm fast, not saying hi to anyone I needed to get clean, my shirt stuck to my broader chest, my sleeves were stuck halfway down my forearms and my pants were cutting the circulation off at my thighs. When I opened the door I expected the mess, hell i expected the dumb jock on the bed. Just not a a GORGEOUS, LITHE HAIRLESS TWINK, bouncing up and down on his cock. Riding him like his life depended on it. His face buried into Brads chest as he stifled his own moans.

I wanted to say something, this, this was disgusting. The way that fucking twink arched his back as his hips gyrated. The way his ass bounced when Brad would thrust up to meet them. His whining grew stronger as Brad brought his meaty hands to hold the twinks face telling him he wanted to hear it. To hear how good he was making him feel. The twink threw his head back, eyes rolling, his curly brown hair bouncing with each thrust. This guy was losing his mind, his tongue hanging out as he groped Brad's Chest like they were handle bars to hold onto, their sweat mixing together, both men COVERED in it. His moans were insane as his eyes glazed over from pleasure, mouth opening wide as he begged for more. Brads face got hit with creamy fluid as the twink came his brains out.

God the smell was intoxicating I couldn’t help but breathe it in even if I felt like I wanted to vomit. Brad Manhandled him, switching their position till the twink was on his back, brads ass fully exposed to me. Covered in hairs, his meaty cheeks clapping with each thrust. He flexed so hard, pulling up both arms into a double bicep pose telling this fucked stupid man to worship him. The scent of sex, men and just everything washed over me, before I knew it my own vision was fogging up. 

The last thing I saw before I hit the ground was Brad Cumming inside his boytoy, leaving both parties satisfied.

________

My dreams were filled with Brad Stroking a massive cock, at least ten inches long. His underwear, a bright red jockstrap down to his knees as he moved his hands up and down his Pre soaked cock. I felt my heart race as he got quicker, his words  deep and loud bouncing around my head. You like this slut, you want it, give in worship a real man. Crawl over on your knees and burry your head into his crotch. Real men worship cocks. Real men submit to musk, real men deserve pleasure and muscle. BE A REAL MAN!

________

When I woke up I was still on the floor, Brad was lounging in just his red jockstrap like nothing had happened. The room was hotter then hell and we were both sweating up a storm. I felt my clothes fully stick to my skin, tight and unwelcoming to any sudden movements. Its like the fog that rolled in last night had fully settled, my brain conflicted confused and my TINY four incher was hard as a rock. Brad was scrolling through his phone when I managed to get onto my feet “Sup Bro sorry you walked in on that” he said nodding his head like I hadn’t just seen him get some primo bussy..wha..like the stud he was.

“Whats sup dude is that I literally just walked in to see you fucking some twink when I told you….” I'm immediately interrupted by him dropping his phone and staring at me. God the way that the red jockstrap just hugged his bulge was insane, my eyes didn’t want to leave it. The thought that that was just inside a guy made me want to hurl but my dream just then made my heart race faster then any chick ever had. My mouth watering, my jaw just a little slack.

“God Chris are you going to make it weird? You literally just said no chicks.” Brad says, in such a dismissive, douchebag way. Such a MANLY WAY. He’s such a real man he deserves pleasure. I almost lean into his voice, almost fall further under his spell, but there it was again. CHRIS, god I hate when people called me that, i shook my head.

“Bro don’t call me that, I hate when people call me Chris, it's Christopher and second..” he raises his arms behind his head exposing his armpits, His face taking on an amused grin. It's distracting but…but I need to say it Bro. “ Second You can’t be fuckin dudes in here either.”

“Fine Chris, i'll text you when i bring em over so you don’t barge in” He says almost conceding but even just the idea of some twink riding his cock makes me nauseous BRO. And he did it again, he called me Chris.

“Nah bro, you can’t be doin any of that gay shit in here” I say, venom leaking out of my voice. My friends had told me in the past that this was one of my biggest flaws. My homophobic beliefs, I always laughed it off, said I was always just hammin’ it up but really I meant it. I couldn’t stand fa- gay people.

“What did you just say to me Chris?!” he gets fully up and in my face, his body almost pressed against mine trying to get me to back down. He over-emphasizes my nam- I mean my nickname for some reason, only my friends called me that. Which he wasn’t, he was just going to keep calling me it, it was more important to tell my Bro the law of this dorm room then tell him off. 

“You heard me, I don't want you shoving any of this gay shit in my face anymore!” I say standing tall. Yesterday I could have swore he lumbered over me, his hulking figure to my short self. Where before I was barely eye level with his chest I was up to his chin now, almost able to lay one on those kissable lips. I should have been nervous or questioned how I went from 5’6 to 5’10 but all I could feel was the fog and a heightened level of testosterone fueling my aggression.

“Take it back Chris, take it back right now!” For a second I could have sworn I saw bros eyes light up green, like some flicker of ancient eldritch power. But I was too caught up in his SEXY pheromones and musk to care. He had crossed to many lines in one day.

“No i won’t take it back you fuckin meat headed muscle queer freak. You have been nothing but disrespectful since you got here  and now you're rubbing your sexuality in my face. I cant wait to fucking contact our GA and get you out of here!” I rant and ramble, finally speaking my mind. My mouth forming the cockiest, angriest smirk it's ever done as I feel pure relief.

Brad doesn’t immediately say anything, the room somehow grows darker, my spine feels not a chill but pure heat. Like a fire was set straight down my back. My clothes, the t-shirt and jeans I wore wet from sweat and clinging to my bigger body for dear life begin to stretch, the sound of fabric straining as Brad lets out a dull cold hearted laugh, his eyes dark.

“Well CHRIS, how bout I shove something in your face for real!” His voice brays as he brings his arm up before clamping it down on my face. His armpit acting like a black hole, my face landing perfectly underneath his musk immediately suffocating me in his pure man scent before everything WHITED OUT. I could no longer think ahead, hell I could no longer think. Bro’s scent was everything, and his godly sweat was marking me, seeping into my face and right to my brain. The dream flashing through my mind, Bros beautiful masculine body, his glorious cock and OH GOD THE WAY HE WAS FUCKING DESTROYING THAT TWINk. My mind and mouth both watering as the changes seeped into me. I felt myself nuzzle into Bro’s pits, sniffing, licking and worshipping them, the feel of his sweat and hair on my face making me feel so good. Moaning against the most divine scent I could imagine

The Musk wafted around me and traveled down my body, like a thick miasma of magic it removed my clothes turning the fabric into fog feeding brad, my lanky, lithe body of full display cramped against a MUSCLE GOD. BEGGING for his attention and admiration as I should. I felt the Sweat and GRIME seep deeper into my pores, my brow bone extending further giving me a more masculine look, my nose growing longer and wider giving me stronger features. My hair absorbing his sweat getting greased back tilla shell of a backwards cap magically appeared sealing my fate before I even knew it. 

It felt so right being underneath BRO and all I had to do was lis- WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON.

Brad was steady, keeping his heavy arm clamped down on my head. All these stray thoughts running rampant, the urge, no, need to LISTEN to him beating in my head as I realize all the weird thoughts, and changes that have happened to me in the last twenty four hours. The height, sweat, clothes being tighter, smelling worse and hating Anna, everything I pushed to the side and dismissed were him, as he revealed to me the truth.

“I tried so hard Bro, I wanted a real friend and I could tell you needed that too BRO, but you had to ruin it. I was too nice calling you CHRIS bro. Letting the change be simple and easy for you without takin too much. I can’t let some homophobic piece of shit have this gift, nah you can’t be CHRIS, YOU’RE OBVIOUSLY TOPHER!” His voice angry, sad and manic all at one as his other hand moves to the back of my head pushing me deeper into his MUSK. I panic trying to pull back but BRO is so much STRONGER AND HOTTER THAN ME, moan and groan against his pit inevitably still WORSHIPPING IT as I feel the words he emphasizes PULSE through me.

His hand moves down my neck, sending a shock through my system, my moans and groans come out strangled, and deeper as I feel that same PULSE wrap around my neck, this feeling of it widening as my adam apple grows bigger pushing against my vocal chords forever deepening my voice. My jaw feels stronger as it's chiseled away to match the neck I’m given. “That’s it TOPHER, Just give in to me, you're such a GOOD BOY TOPHER. You're gonna be my BRO and we’re gonna have so much fun TOPHER!” He says each use of BRO, TOPHER, and GOODBOY raking against my mind, scraping away parts of me and fueling this pulsing warmth inside of me. He releases me from his pit, both hands resting against my shoulders and it feels like the weight of my own existence has been put right on top of me. I feel my skin sizzle as it tans starting at my neck, and then my shoulders broaden becoming more masculine in size and better for holding muscles on my frame. It sends this thril of eroticism, of things to come as he teasingly starts moving them lower down my back.

I look at him,eyes pleading as I search for the words. “Please Bro, st..sto..stop whatever this is I promise Im sorry, please I’m….im not CHRISTOPHER- I mean i’m not Topher please. I’m not” My name jumps out of my mouth, my lips plumping as it does leaving me forever, erasing itself from my mind and clearing a better path for my BRO. 

“You're not what TOPHER? What did you say I was? A MEATHEADED MUSCLE QUEER FREAK?! I think that's EXACTLY WHO TOPHER IS!!” He rushes his hands to my chest and I feel it, that same feeling from being trapped in his pit. My vision goes white and I let out this howling moan. Arching my back as my eyes roll back, his hands diving deeper than they should, flesh, muscle and the perfect amount of fat. It was heaven, it was orgasmic but it was also EDGING. My cock wanted to burst but something was stopping me as I tried to hump BRO. I couldn't stop myself. It felt like Brad was frying my brain through pleasure as he played with and sculpted these new muscle tits. Tweaking my nipples, growing them and making them more sensitive.

“Please Brad, please I just lemme cu-” Brad stops and grabs the jockstrap from underneath my pillow. “Shut the fuck up don’t you get tired of your voice. Just listen like the DUMBASS you are TOPHER!” He shoves the dirty smelly jockstrap into my mouth as he says it. The word dumbass ringing in my head as the backwards cap squeezes it in tandem with the pulses now shrinking my brain, the excess thoughts and ideas flowing down to my balls as BRAD resumes feeling me up and sculpting me. My back slowly becomes this tan corded muscle masterpiece as his magic spreads.

He moves to my arms this time making me flex them in a douchey  HOT Double bicep pose.  Each grave of his fingers, each press of his palm I feel this heat build in my body, as my bones are strengthened, my muscles BULGING and skin glowing in a beautiful tan. Till his hands travel inwards and dig into my pit, rubbing in a new stench MUSK that would be mine. Forever linking me to him and INFLUENCING all my decisions.

It Took a second for the foul DELICIOUS taste of the jock to settle in my mouth. I had foolishly tried to push it out with my tongue but each lick, each graze gave me a new flavor of man to savor. Each gulp of his sweat, precum, and cum stains drove my mind mad as I started to crave that taste. I couldn’t stop myself from internally begging for more as I begged for it to stop.

He moves his hands down my torso, each glance against my skin tightens my core, as he slides them down it leaves behind a cobblestone road of abs. Popping up like slabs of perfection All the while whispering my name in my ear over and over again. Topher, Topher, Topher, Topher, god I could listen to him whisper my name in my ear any day. He says it with so much lust and love I want to crea- ITS HAPPENING AGAIN, him saying my name helps him change me.

His hands make a clear v line down before releasing and taking a look at me. “Damn I gave you some Sexy Cum Gutters Topher.” he says walking around me, investigating his work as I helplessly pose for him losing my balance. “But don’t want you looking like a Dorito do we, gotta finish up Babe” he says lovingly teasing my inner thigh. Making them explode rapidly before he moves behind me and slaps me right on the ass. It happens again. That earth shattering feeling as my cheeks Jiggle before he gropes them. My eyes are rolling again as I helplessly beg for him to let me cum. My lips opened wide in shock as he does it again, spanking me. It happens again and again, HARD SPANKS to sensual groping as he creates a perfectly fuckable DUMPTRUCK of an ass that everyone would stare at.

Each time I'm begging to cum as he laughs, egging me on. “God your eyes are crossed BRO, look how the mighty have fallen, just a bit more!” he says massaging my cheeks one last time before his fingers slip between the crack and teases my hole, sending a massive pulse through me that makes my knees buckle. It shouldn’t even budge, no less open easy but the magic coating both of us now lets him tamper, and tease around my hoile before a finger slips in. im gasping for breaths as memories of girls I dated, crushes I had, feelings I bottled up are all erased. Whiting out again, and again as new pleasure centers are added to me.

A new need is demanded by my body, as one of Brad’s Massive, Gorgeous, Amazing hand makes me crave my hole being played with, as the other traces my thighs making them thunder thighs in seconds. His fingers tease and toy with me like I was just an instrument and he was a trained professional. My whimpering increases as he gets a second finger in while his other hand matches that tempo and carves my calves into perfect diamonds and he manages to get a third final finger into my CAVERNOUS, STARVING HOLE as his hand touches my  feet. They explode becoming size 14 triple e wides.

“Almost there Bro any last words” He says destroying my world by removing his fingers. He pulls the jock out of my whining mouth, the need is so strong. My pathetic Dicklet is leaking so much precum, my mind is fried and I miss his fingers and the taste of his Dirty Jock.

“Please stop thi- BRO DONT STOP THIS, PLEASE I NEED…NEED..NEED to Cum Please..” he interupts my conflicted begging, his hand wrapping around my dick with ease swallowing it whole. He shushes me and tells me it's almost over as he easily glides his hand along my precum covered cock. The first stroke up feels like I’m getting harder. My cock raging and growing, as he slides it down it only continues the feeling. It goes from four to five in that brief moment as he gets to the root. He’s whispering in my ear how he likes his boys hairy, fur crops up around my chest, fills in my pits and covers my crotch. 

His hand moves up again six inches. Down now my balls are sloshing with cum. Up were at seven he’s telling me how pretty I am, how cute I’ll look begging for his loads. Down I’m telling him he’s the hottest man in the world because it's true. Up now were at eight, no nine, I can't count all I feel is him slamming his hand all the way down again and nothing else matters. Its just Up, and down, Up and Down, UP, DOWN, UP ANd Down and now were at twelve inches and he tells me to say please and all i can do is fuck his hand over and over again pleading and begging  as his other hand snaps and

Everything 

Goes

White

Load after load shooting out. Every Memory, Every straight thought, higher thought or idea of who Christopher was unloading out of his balls as Topher takes over moaning and fucking his boyfriend Brad’s hand. No need to replace those memories, after all with Topher being a meatheaded dumb muscle queer freak he didn’t have the brain power to really remember that.

It was five loads before he was done and just stared at Brad who smiled and asked the him the only question he COULD answer now “Want to serve my Cock now Babe?”

“YES PLEASE!”

______ And that was one of the commission pieces I've done if anyone wants anything similar feel free to dm me I am currently taking coms and I do try to be accommodating to budgets <3

[thefunkfactory]

The White Van: Kevin & Nico

The concrete of the parking structure dampened the sounds of the city outside, leaving only the rhythmic slap of Converse and loafers against the oil-stained floor. It was late, past one in the morning, and the fluorescent lights overhead hummed with an intermittent, sickly flicker.

Nico shivered, pulling his oversized sweatshirt around his small frame. He was buzzing with the residue of the concert they had just left, an underground indie-pop band from Oakland that he’d been obsessed with for months. "I’m just saying, Kev, the way the lead synth harmonized with the socio-political commentary in the second verse? It’s basically a deconstruction of late-stage capitalism wrapped in a 4/4 beat."

Kevin smiled. He looked the part of the quintessential academic: tall, slender, with a sharp jawline softened by a thoughtful expression. "It’s valid, Nico. But you have to consider if the medium undermines the message. Can you truly critique the commodification of art while charging forty dollars for a t-shirt?"

"You're such a buzzkill," Nico teased, bumping his hip against Kevin’s thigh. "That’s why I love you. My big, smart, Pol-Sci boyfriend keeping me grounded."

"And you’re my chaotic, leftist gamer keeping me from taking myself too seriously," Kevin replied, reaching down to squeeze Nico’s hand.

They turned the corner toward level C4, where Kevin’s modest sedan was parked. The air in the garage was stale, smelling of exhaust and old dust. It was completely empty, save for a few scattered cars.

Suddenly, tires screeched.

A white cargo van, devoid of any markings or license plates, whipped around the spiral ramp and slammed onto the brakes directly in front of them. It cut off their path to Kevin’s car, the grill aggressive and rusted.

"Whoa!" Kevin instinctively stepped in front of Nico, his protective instinct flaring. "Hey! Watch where you’re going!"

There was no driver visible through the tinted windshield. Before either of them could back away, the side sliding door of the van flew open with a mechanical whoosh.

There was no one inside. No kidnappers, no guys in masks. There was only a screen.

It was massive, filling the entire door frame. Instantly, it flared to life, projecting a blinding luminosity that cut through the dim garage. A spiral. Thick bands of crimson red and stark, blinding white began to rotate. It wasn't just a video; it seemed to possess depth, a tunnel of light that drilled into the eyes.

"What the hell..." Nico muttered, his voice trembling. "Kevin, we need to run."

"I... I can't," Kevin stammered. His analytical mind, usually so sharp at dissecting political theory and rhetoric, hit a wall. He was trying to rationalize the stimuli. Is this a prank? An art installation? A strobe effect?

A low frequency began to emit from the van’s speakers. It was a deep, thrumming bass that vibrated in their chests, syncing with the rotation of the spiral. Wub... Wub... Wub...

Nico’s hand went limp in Kevin’s. The gamer, used to staring at screens for hours, found his gaze locked. The colors were so bright they burned an afterimage into his retinas instantly.

"LOOK," a voice boomed from the van. It wasn't human. It was synthesized, layered, deep and commanding. "LISTEN. SUBMIT."

"No," Kevin whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. "Nico, don't look."

But Kevin opened his eyes. He had to. The curiosity, the need to understand the phenomenon, betrayed him. He looked into the red and white abyss.

The spiral spun faster. The red wasn't just a color anymore; it felt like a temperature. Heat.

“This is a psychological operation. Visual entrainment. They are trying to override the prefrontal cortex using high-frequency flashing. I know this. I read a paper on subliminal messaging in authoritarian regimes. I need to resist. I am Kevin. I am a progressive. I value nuance. I value...” Kevin thought to himself.

The thought trailed off as the sound changed. The bass grew heavier, sounding less like a machine and more like a heartbeat. A very slow, very strong heartbeat.

WUB... WUB...

Kevin felt a bead of sweat roll down his temple. It wasn't a cold sweat of fear anymore. It was hot. His skin felt prickly.

Beside him, Nico let out a soft whimper that slowly morphed into a groan. The small Peruvian boy dropped to his knees, his eyes wide, reflecting the spinning vortex.

"So... bright..." Nico mumbled. "Pretty... colors..."

"WEAKNESS IS LEAVING THE BODY," the voice intoned. "REJECT THE VIRUS. EMBRACE THE STRENGTH."

Kevin felt a cramp in his stomach. A sudden, violent churning. His gut bubbled audibly. The intellectual tension he held in his shoulders, the posture of a student who spent hours hunched over books, began to dissolve. He felt his muscles twitch.

Prrrrt.

A sharp, foul smell hit the air. Nico had passed gas. It wasn't the usual accidental slip; it was loud, brazen.

"Nico?" Kevin tried to look down, but he couldn't tear his eyes from the screen.

"Feels... good..." Nico slurred. His voice sounded deeper, stripping away the high-pitched, excited lilt he usually had. "Stomach... making room."

"PURGE THE SOY. PURGE THE WEAKNESS."

Kevin felt it too. The pressure in his lower abdomen was immense. His body was reacting to the lights, his metabolism shifting into a hyper-aggressive gear. The fear was evaporating, replaced by a strange, aggressive apathy.

Why was I scared? Kevin thought. The complex sentences in his mind were breaking down. Why fear? Fear is for... fear is for pussies.

The word shocked him. He never used that word. It was sexist. It was derogatory.

It’s accurate, the new voice in his head countered. Stop overthinking. Start lifting.

Kevin’s stomach roared. He clenched his fists. The fabric of his slim-fit button-down shirt felt tight. He felt hot, incredibly hot. A thick, musky scent began to rise from his own skin, overpowering his subtle sandalwood deodorant. It smelled like raw onion and testosterone.

BRRRAAAP!

Kevin ripped a massive, thunderous fart. It echoed in the concrete garage, vibrating against his denim. It smelled horrific, like rotten eggs and cheap protein powder.

"Nice one, bro," Nico mumbled.

Kevin froze. Bro? Nico called him babe or Kev. Never bro.

"Thanks," Kevin heard himself say. His voice was dropping an octave, losing the soft, articulated cadence of the debate team. "Needed that. Gut was full of trash."

The spiral shifted. The white bands became stripes. The red became a background. A vague shape of a star began to pulse in the center.

"TRADITION. POWER. HIERARCHY."

Nico was the first to fully crumble. The complex web of his identity, his love for obscure indie games, his advocacy for marginalized communities, his nuanced take on gender politics, was being scrubbed clean. The spiral acted like a magnet, dragging the data off his hard drive and replacing it with a new operating system.

All Nico could think about in his emptying mind was “Leveling up? No. No more games. Games are for kids. I’m a man. Men don’t play. Men conquer. The System is broken. The Left lies. They want me small. They want me weak.”

Nico stood up. His posture changed. He widened his stance, his legs spread apart in a display of dominance. He rolled his neck, cracking it loudly. The oversized denim jacket, which once looked cute and stylish, now looked ridiculous to him. He tore it off, throwing it on the oily ground. Underneath, he wore a vintage band tee. He looked at it with disgust.

"Trash," Nico spat.

He flexed. He wasn't big, he was still short, but he felt huge. He felt like a pitbull.

"WHO IS THE ALPHA? WHO IS THE LEADER?"

"Trump," Kevin whispered.

The word tasted like bile initially, then like honey.

Kevin’s mind was a battlefield, but the resistance was losing. The "Political Science" major was being dismantled.

Nuance is a trap, the spiral told him. Facts don't care about your feelings. Might makes right. Look at you. You’re a man. Act like it.

Kevin felt a surge of aggression. He looked at his hands. They looked bigger. His veins were popping out along his forearms. He felt a phantom pump, as if he’d just done ten sets of heavy bench press. The sweat was pouring off him now, soaking his shirt. The smell in the immediate area was becoming toxic, a mix of aggressive, sour body odor and the lingering clouds of their flatulence.

PHHHHRRRRT.

Nico let out another one, long and wet sounding. He didn't apologize. He didn't blush. He laughed. A deep, guttural, frat-boy chuckle.

"Better out than in, right big guy?" Nico slapped Kevin on the shoulder. The touch wasn't tender; it was firm, a brotherhood check.

"Damn straight," Kevin grunted. He felt the urge to spit. He spat on the floor.

The transformation of their worldview was accelerating.

Climate change? Hoax. Systemic oppression? Excuse for the lazy. The patriarchy? Natural order.

Doers don't need to read between the lines, the voice said.

Kevin squinted. The red spiral was all that mattered.

"YOU ARE PATRIOTS. YOU ARE WARRIORS. YOU LOVE THE FLAG. YOU LOVE THE LEADER."

"I love the leader," Nico chanted, his eyes glazed over with a look of fanatical adoration. "Make it great. Make me great."

"USA," Kevin muttered, the acronym feeling heavy and powerful on his tongue. "USA. USA!"

The intellectual Kevin was gone. In his place was a vessel of raw, unfiltered masculinity and blind loyalty. He didn't want to analyze policy; he wanted to win. He wanted to see liberals cry. He wanted to lift heavy iron and eat steak.

The physical sensation was overwhelming. They were both sweating profusely, their pheromones filling the space between them. It was a locker room smell, multiplied by ten.

BRAAAP! Kevin unleashed another torrent of gas, relieving the pressure of his new gut. "Oh, fuck yeah," he groaned, rubbing his belly. "That’s pure freedom right there."

Nico looked at Kevin. He didn't see his "boyfriend" anymore. He saw a bro. A fellow soldier in the culture war. And he saw that Kevin was no longer the soft, empathetic student. He was becoming a Chad.

"You look huge, bro," Nico said, admiring the way Kevin’s shirt was straining (or seemed to be) against his chest. "You been hitting the gym?"

"Every day, bro," Kevin lied. The memory was false, planted by the spiral, but it felt real. He remembered deadlifting 405 lbs yesterday. He remembered drinking a gallon of raw milk. "Gotta get those gains. Can't be a soy-boy cuck."

"Hell no," Nico agreed, flexing his own small bicep. "We ain't soft."

The Coronation

The spiral on the screen slowed down. The droning bass faded, replaced by the sound of a cheering crowd. It sounded like a rally. Thousands of people screaming in unison.

The screen flashed white one last time, then went dark.

The sliding door of the van remained open. A mechanical tray extended from the darkness of the van’s interior. On the tray sat two objects.

Two bright red hats.

The white embroidery on the front seemed to glow in the dim garage light.

MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN.

Kevin and Nico stared at the hats. It was like staring at the Holy Grail.

"It’s beautiful," Nico whispered.

"It’s time," Kevin said. His voice was deep, devoid of any vocal fry. It was authoritative.

They stepped forward in unison. The hesitation was gone. The fear was gone. The old Kevin and Nico were dead, buried under layers of new, artificial memories and gym-bro instincts.

Kevin reached out and took one. He didn't gently place it on his head; he shoved it down, pulling the brim low. He turned to Nico.

Nico grabbed the other one. He put it on backwards, the snapback strap crossing his forehead, giving him a chaotic, aggressive look.

"How do I look?" Nico asked, crossing his arms and puffing out his chest.

Kevin looked him up and down. "Like a patriot. Like a winner."

"You too, bro. You look like you’re ready to storm the capital," Nico laughed.

"Let's get out of this shithole city," Kevin said, looking around the parking garage with disdain. "Need to get back to the suburbs. Real America."

"Yeah. Too many snowflakes around here," Nico spat.

The Departure

They turned away from the van. The van’s door slid shut, and without a sound, it reversed and drove away, disappearing down the ramp. They didn't even watch it go. They didn't care. They had their orders. They had their identity.

They walked toward Kevin’s car. Their walks had changed. Kevin walked with a wide, lumbering gait, imagining imaginary lats pushing his arms out. Nico bounced on the balls of his feet, full of manic, aggressive energy.

They reached the sedan. Kevin looked at it with a sneer. "Gotta trade this piece of crap in. Need a truck. Lifted. Diesel."

"Yeah, something that rolls coal," Nico agreed, grabbing the door handle. "Piss off the greenies."

They got in. The interior of the car was small and intimate, but the vibe had shifted entirely. It no longer felt like a safe space for two lovers; it felt like a locker room.

Kevin jammed the key into the ignition and revved the engine aggressively, even though it was just a four-cylinder.

"Radio," Kevin commanded.

He jabbed the button, switching off the Bluetooth which had been queued up with an NPR podcast. He scanned the static until he found a classic rock station playing loud, distorted guitars. He cranked the volume up.

"Hell yeah!" Nico shouted, banging his hand on the dashboard.

The enclosed space of the car quickly filled with the smell of their transformation, the heavy, sour sweat of two men who believed they were apex predators.

Kevin looked at Nico. "Hungry?"

"Starving. I could eat a cow," Nico said. "Literally."

"Burger King. Then the gym," Kevin decided.

"Based," Nico nodded.

Kevin shifted the car into reverse. As he looked back, he felt a massive bubble of pressure build up one last time, the final expulsion of the old Kevin.

PPPHHHRRRAAAP-P-P-P!

It was long, loud, and incredibly violent. It vibrated the seat.

Nico didn't miss a beat. He lifted his leg and fired back instantly.

BRRRT!

"Nice," Kevin grilled, slapping the steering wheel. "Let's roll."

"Rip ass and gas, baby!" Nico yelled.

Kevin slammed on the gas, tires screeching as they sped out of the garage, leaving the silence, their old selves, and a cloud of foul air behind them. They were MAGA now, and they had a country to take back.

[devinpink]

The Cup

I felt the change the second I slipped my big bro's sports cup over my cock. It was like magic, bro! I suddenly had the body of a jock god, totally unrecognizable from the scrawny weakling I once was. I was suddenly in full uniform too! It was awesome, bro! I instantly got why my big bro had that dumb expression all the time. My mind got mad stupid, like it melted down into my newly fat nuts, bro! All I could think about was lifting and fucking. My donger totally doubled in size, too; the cup could hardly contain me! I needed release, and beating off wasn't gonna cut it. I needed pussy! The cup like exterminated my gayness, bro. No desire for cock at all! As if I cared, though. Being straight is way better! Now I can get a hot cheerleader girlfriend and fuck her till she's pregnant! Fuck yeah, bro! Coach will love that! I'm gonna make coach so fucking proud, bro!

[musclemax30]

[fillthattank]

Trying out your bro’s new gains

[bigification]

Bootcamp

Eddie faintly opened his eyes, watching the trees rush by through the window. The sound of the truck driving over dirt roads almost soothed him, reminding him of the road trips he used to do with his dad as a kid. But as the truck passed a tall barbed wire fence, he was reminded of the prison he was now stuck in.

The truck came to a stop beside a large building in the middle of the woods. Eddie, along with a couple of other guys around his age, were dragged out and forced to line up in front of the truck.

"You maggots all find yourself here because you lack respect. Respect for your families, for your country, and for masculinity." Shouted an intimidating man in a military uniform. "You will call me Sargeant and nothing else! Training starts immediately. You will be stripped of your possessions and shown to your room. Meet back here in 10 minutes or you will regret it!"

As the group made their way inside, the Sargeant stopped Eddie.

"Not you." He said, pulling Eddie back. "You're John's kid, right?"

"Ugh, yeah."

"Hah, just pathetic. Who knew a man like John could raise a freak like you. College rotted your brain, made you weak." The Sargeant laughed.

Eddie's eyes welled up as he thought of every time his father spoke to him just like that.

"Quit bitching!" He yelled. "Your father is a great man, he taught me everything I know. That's why he's entrusted me with making sure every last drop of queer is wrung out of you, and I won't let him down."

"My father is a monster." Eddie wiped away his tears.

The Sargeant frowned before slapping him across the face.

"I will break down every last part of you and rebuild you into a man your father can be proud of." The Sargeant smirks. "Now, put on some real clothes. None of that gay shit you're wearing."

He tossed a small duffle bag with some clothes inside. The smell of sweat hit him like a brick wall as he opened the bag. Eddie gagged as he pulled out a camo green jockstrap.

"It was your father's. I hoped it could make you more like him. Put it on. Now."

"What?" Eddie said, confused.

"You heard me! Stop being a pussy and get undressed."

Eddie got red as he started peeling off his clothes, revealing ribs under his pale skin. He paused for a moment, hesitating as he grabbed the jockstrap. He looked up at the Sargeant, feeling trapped by his intense glare. With an exasperated sigh, he slipped on the jockstrap.

The large jockstrap struggled to hold itself up around Eddie's skinny body. It looked comically large on him, but that wouldn't last long.

A warmth began to emanate from his crotch. His cock twitched as it started to swell, growing to a sizable 5 inches soft as it filled out the empty space in the jock.

"What the fuck!?" Eddie cried.

"Let it happen boy. That pecker of yours wasn't suitable for a real man, soon you'll be a breeding machine." The Sargeant laughed.

The jockstrap suddenly tightened around his waist as his flat ass rose like a loaf of bread, becoming round and perky. Something the gays would fawn over but couldn't have.

Even more, his chicken legs thickened as defined muscles rippled through his thighs and calves. And his shoes strained against his growing feet before bursting, showing off his wide, size 16 feet. Eddie was too distracted by his growing lower body to notice that he had grown taller, from a measly 5"6 to a more average 6"0, now standing eye to eye with the Sargeant.

Eddie desperately tried pulling the jockstrap off, but it didn't budge, as if it were part of him now.

"Not so fast." The Sargeant chuckled. "You ain't taking that off until every part of you has become worthy of being called a man."

Eddie struggled to find the words to say as the transformation continued to his upper body. His core tightened as his waist slimmed down, giving his body a V shape. His flat stomach rose into a strong set of abs with a healthy layer of fat on top. All while puffy muscles piled into his chest, creating two juicy pecs that bounced with every step he took.

"My god... This feels good." Eddie said in a completely foreign voice, deep and gruff, almost like his father's.

His body continued to grow. His height increased further, towering over the Sargeant at a staggering 6"5. And to match his height, his shoulders broadened, complimenting his large barrel shaped chest.

Eddie started to forgot how horrible this situation was as his arms surged with power. His biceps swelled to the size of his head, his forearms grew larger than his biceps used to be, and his hands doubled in size, becoming thick and calloused like those of an honest working man.

"That's right boy, enjoy it, you're becoming a real man!" The Sargeant shouted.

The muscles around Eddie's neck thickened as the transformation reached his head. His thoughts became cloudy as his face morphed. His jaw widened as his education faded away, being replaced by the traditional values instilled by his father. His skin weathered and aged as his time creating art turned into time hunting and training with his father. And his hair receded and shortened to a buzz cut as his boyfriend faded from his mind, being replaced by the countless girls from his hometown that he knocked up. But it's not his fault, strong seed just runs in the family, that's why Eddie's got countless half brothers and sisters out there.

And as a final touch, thick brown hairs began to sprout all over his skin as high levels of testosterone pumped through his body. A well trimmed beard grew across his sharp jaw, complimenting his receding hairline. And thick pelts of hair spread over his chest, stomach, arms, and legs. An intoxicating musky odour began to emanate from his body as sweat became trapped in his forests of hair.

"Feels good don't it." The Sargeant said as he approached Ed.

"Hell yeah, brother." Ed flexed with a dumb smile.

"Good man." The Sargeant patted him on the shoulder. "Here try these on for size."

The Sargeant pulled a hat, sunglasses, and boots out of the nearby duffle bag. They fit perfectly, making Ed look just like the other men helping run the camp, barring the lack of clothes.

"I like it Sarge." Ed said as he stepped onto the picnic table.

"Good. Though the clothes I brought for you won't fit, you grew larger than anyone here ever has."

"No shit I'm the strongest here." Ed started flexing again.

"You sure are." The Sargeant chuckled. "Follow me, big guy. I'm sure we have something inside that'll fit you. Then we can start your training."

[musclefoot]

[bigandhuskyfellows]

Big loves Little and Little loves Big Big Connor

[stupidhimbo]

Cum addicted himbo

He's addicted, he needs your cum like he needs water, it's simply intoxicating to him, he goes all day thinking to the moment when he will come back home, get on his knees and finally get your cum in his mouth, he lives for it, and you love to give him what he wants.

[abdullahbroshairif]

[salmonskinrolltf]

Alumni Relations

[Thank you to @twistedtfs for contributing the second image for this not-so-short story.]

That’s my boyfriend, Blake, lying down, and me, Tyler, lying on him. As you might be able to tell, I’m a top. Not that he and I actually do anal all that often. It’s a lot of work, honestly, and a lot of cleanup. We often prefer just trading blowjobs, which is what we’re getting ready to do right now.

We’re on a time crunch, anyway. I’m on my lunch break at the law firm where I work, and he’s about to start his closing shift at the art supply store.

Just as I’m kissing my way down to Blake’s waistband, his phone starts blaring Chappell Roan’s “Pink Pony Club.” Again. This is the fifth time that an unknown number has called in the past three minutes. Blake blocked the last three callers, but the calls keep coming from different numbers, so it isn’t working.

“Ugh, might as well see what they want,” grumbles Blake. I reluctantly roll off of him and he gets up, walking over to the bureau and answering his phone. “Who is this?”

I palm my tented briefs and he winks at me as he says, “No, I’m sorry, you have the wrong-”

Suddenly, his eyes go glassy.

I take my hand off my dick, sit up against the headboard, and watch him, curiously. What’s going on? Is it bad news or something?

“Well, yes,” he says, rubbing the back of his head. He must be nervous. He’s mussing his hair hard enough to pull the strands back, or something, because the part above his ears looks a lot shorter. When he moves his hand, I see something odd. His hair is shorter.

The back and sides are cropped close, and the only remaining length is at the top. I’m about to ask what’s going on when Blake does something that causes me to freeze in surprise. He grabs a blue baseball cap from the top of the dresser and puts it on, backward. He’s never worn a baseball hat like that. He’s never worn a baseball hat period. We don’t even own any!

The hat should be pressing his bangs flatter to his forehead, but they’re actually rising. They’re almost floating, like he’s touching one of those static electricity machine things at Spencer’s Gifts. They bristle and curl into a styled swoop that looks like it has been trained to flow in that exact way by years of cap-wearing.

I feel like my nerves are firing wrong, because I can’t move. All I can do is panic and try to process what I’m seeing.

“Yeah, of course,” Blake says. Is it just me or is his voice slightly deeper?

While the way he speaks has grown more masculine, his face is starting to look more boyish. His cheekbones rise, his lashes lengthen, and that beard that I love running my fingers through begins to fall from his face in small tufts, like flakes of paint being chipped off a wall. What’s left behind is patchy stubble, dark and thick on his chin and upper lip, but pretty sparse everywhere else.

“Totally, dude,” says Blake, letting out a deep guffaw that rumbles through his chest.

His ribs expand, as if they’re trying to properly contain the booming laughter that is bursting out of my normally restrained boyfriend. His thick pelt of chest hair holds on for dear life as his flat chest rises, his nipples suddenly perched on two solid mounds of muscle.

As he nods and continues to agree with whoever is on the other end of the phone, more details keep shifting. His septum ring glints as it vanishes into thin air. His underwear strains against a growing bulge. The stench of musk floods the room as he idly scratches an armpit. His eyes grow even more vacant and blank than they had looked at the beginning of the call.

He turns to look at me and I jolt. I was so shocked by Blake’s sudden transformation that I had forgotten I was actually in the room and not just observing this nightmare from afar.

“It’s for you, bro,” he says, holding the phone out to me. A goofy grin splits his face.

What the fuck do I do? Do I run? No, I can’t do that. This is Blake. The love of my life. Something weird is happening, and I need to fix it. I take the phone.

“Who is this, and what the fuck have you done with Blake?” I bark out the second the phone touches my ear.

“I don’t know any Blake,” said a calm voice on the other end of the phone. Male. Maybe early 20s? “But I asked Brody to hand the phone to you, so you can add to his generous donation.”

“Donation? What kind of scam-”

“My name is Evan and I’m calling on behalf of the local chapter of Beta Theta.”

“The frat? Look, I-”

“We’re raising funds so we can remodel the frat house. But our fraternity dues aren’t quite enough to cover everything.”

“OK, so talk to your frat alumni. Isn’t that how you people usually raise money?”

“I am talking to the frat alumni.”

“No you’re not.”

“Our tastes run expensive, as you know.”

“No, I don’t.”

“We’re a relatively new frat, so there aren’t enough alumni in the area to get us what we need. I’ve had to get creative. I’ve been making frat alumni… calls.”

“OK, so you’re making calls. Why call us? And what did you do to Brody? I mean Blake.”

“You’ll understand in a minute. Look, the reason I’m calling is that you’re a former Beta Theta yourself.”

“I’m telling you, I’ve never been part of Beta Theta. Or any frat, for that matter.”

“My listings are never wrong. Don’t you live at 999 Hawthorne Place?” “Well, yes,” I say, as my fingertips start to tingle.

“And you have close-cropped brown hair?”

“I mean, yeah,” I say, running my hand across my shorn scalp, enjoying the prickly feeling. It’s weird how much darker my beard and chest hair are than my head hair, but I’ve always liked the way the length and the color clash. “But what does that have to do with-”

“And you’ve never been able to grow a full beard?”

I rub the patchy chestnut hairs on my chin and grimace. “Well, that’s true too, but you didn’t have to roast me like that, man.”

“And you’re just as muscular as Brody, but have way less chest hair?”

“All that is on the form?” I ask, looking down at the light brown hairs that are scattered along my shelflike chest.

“And your handsome face gets flushed when you drink, right?”

I suddenly felt dizzy. My deep voice slurs slightly when I respond “Yesh.” I take another swig from my Corona and set it down on the nightstand.

“And you’re always dressed in the frattiest clothes possible?”

“I mean duh, bro,” I say, rolling my eyes as I run my thumb along the length of my chain and adjust my backwards mesh hat.

“And you’re as dumb as a box of rocks?”

It takes a minute for that question to sink in. My gears have never turned all that quickly, and I got distracted by grabbing my package and leering at Brody. I can’t wait to get off the phone so I can bury this cock in his ass, to the hilt. Oh wait, didn’t that Evan guy ask me something? “Oh.. uh, yeah.”

“And your name is Tigger?”

“Yeah, bro, but it’s just a nickname. They called me that because Prez kept catching me bouncing on Brody’s dick,” I say. God, I’m so horny. My ass aches to be filled. Brody is taking off his underwear and jerking his fat cock. I’m drooling at the thought of it. I can’t resist jumping his bones every two hours or so whenever we’re alone together between shifts at the gym. The Beta Theta tattoo on his wrist flashes up and down with every stroke.

“And you’re a devoted Beta Theta?” Evan asks.

Is that even a question! “Uh… doy,” I say. “And they say I’m the dumb one. I have the tat on my asscheek to prove it. So you need money, yeah? Would 10K do? I have that much saved from my lame old job.”

“$10,000 would suit us perfectly well,” says Evan.

“Hell yeah, boyyyyy,” I say. “Just, like, make sure to put up a plaque or something when you build it. ‘Brody & Tigger’s Beer Pong Stadium’ or something like that, y’know?”

“Will do, Tigger. And thanks again,” says Evan.

“Anything for Beta Theta, man! These are the best years of your life, I wouldn’t want them to go to waste on a sucky frat house!”

After making the Zelle transfer, I hang up the phone and lumber over to Brody, grabbing his dripping cock in my meaty hand. I can’t wait to crash my mouth against his and feel his sexy stubble scrape against my chin. “Now, where were we, bro?”