You’ve probably heard this one before, but It was a typical Monday morning for me, travelling through town on the way to class. Exciting, huh. Half way there, I turn down a back alley and see a bunch of young chavvy lads in hi-vis vests tossing trash into the back of a garbage truck behind a building site. Being 24, they were probably a few years younger than me. Otherwise shirtless, their toned bodies were embarrassingly on display under their work gear. The ground is littered with broken wood, other materials and piles of garbage. By the logo on their chests they clearly work for the local council.
I stop and watch them, a slightly bemused expression on my face. I’m glad I managed to get into university, imagine spending your days doing basic labour and clearing trash. If only the dim delinquents had paid attention in school.
But maybe I stare for a little too long. One of the lads turns and spots me, sneering in my direction. They stood out from the group, taller and well built. He looked slightly older than me - maybe mid to late 20’s? I quickly look around awkwardly in a rather transparent way to save face. “Oi bellend, Somefink funny bruv?” His dull voice carries over the street to me.
“Pardon me, come again?” I respond, attempting to maintain composure.
“Think ya betteh ‘den us innit? Just cuz you go to uni?” He yells out. The other boys behind him laugh and jeer. For all my smarts, instead of thinking something witty I kind of just stammer, falling over my words.
“No sir, I’m waiting for my friend Timothy and I—I was just looking at the…the…”
“Hey up, Dans on the warpath now.” Another brainless chav shouts out from behind him, throwing a bin bag into the rear of the truck.
“Shut it Luke.” Dan the scally shouts back, walking over to me while I’m frozen like a deer in the headlights. He puts his grimy hand on my shoulder, the smell of intense body odour, flavoured smoke and the distinct stench of trash flows up my nose. It’s so strong it’s almost as though I can see a cloud surrounding him. I recoil, trying to pull away but his grip is too strong and my head is beginning to feel dizzy. He wipes his fingers across my blazer, leaving a slimy stain behind.
“Ugh. No…stay back. That’s pu—pungent.”
“Dat’s it, breathe it in. Gud shiz innit. ” Dan murmurs, leaning in closer. His musk was making me feel a bit more docile, the urgency of the situation seeming less important.
“Please desist. I…I need to make haste to university.” I slur, subdued.
“Nah. Fancy prick. Need’ta relax. Like dem. Just wotch Luke.” He whispers rubbing his hand over me. I just stare forward, watching the other lads continue working as the rank smell surrounds me. I see Luke guffaw and idly touch himself like an animal without second thought. Shameful as it was, there was something attractive about them, about their crass attitude. Although, they clearly have the intelligence and maturity of a horny donkey. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing though… they didn’t seem to mind at least.
Just braying and rutting. A brain the size of a pea.
Unbeknownst to me, the smell is spreading across my body, consuming my clothes - warping them. My university blazer deforms, the soft material growing coarse. I look down and see a fluorescent yellow vest hanging loosely off my frame, the council logo proudly sporting my chest. The cool air brushes against my exposed bare chest. Further down, A dirty grey jogger is now sagging off my hips, accompanied by a sporty pair of trainers.
I picture myself working with Dan and the rest, scarily, I fit in perfectly. People would look at me and judge me as a failure, an utter dimwit. They’d snicker and point at me to their friends. Smile as they feel rightfully superior - just like I had done. And I wouldn’t care one iota. Satisfied with my stereotypical chav idiocy. With my skill-less job of hauling rubbish, a job that could be done by a monkey. With stinking all day long. Satisfied. Proud. Happy even. Gosh, why does that seem so appealing. So…propa. Ugh. This is damn wrong. That would be humiliating. I’m in my final year at uni, predicted for great results, a promising future. And yet….Fu-fuck That smell. That luv—horrible pungent smell.
“Pungent!” I manage to blurt out loud, to Dan’s obvious amusement. “Adjective. A—A sharp, strong taste or sm—smell.” I continue to ramble incoherently on the spot, unsure of what else to say.
It doesn’t stop there though. The scent has me in a strangle hold, clinging to every surface, suffocating my body. It heats up my chest, pushing against it. Fat burns away to lean muscle - seeming like I spend all day on my increasingly large sweaty feet. I seem to lose several years as my skin gets more youthful, looking fresh out of school at 20 years old. The intense smell evaporates away all my body hair, from head to toe. My weary face is slowly adjusting: dark circles fading, cheeks reddening, jaw sharpening. Mmmffuuck. A burst of pure energy flows through me. Tight abs poke between the gap in my bright vest. My rear pushes out against the tight fabric of my joggers as it fattens up along with my dick out front. I was looking more and more like just another basic chav, like the others. Nothing distinct, nothing special or unique. “Dats what I luv to see. Brill.” Dan remarks, observing my changes. I sway on the spot, adjusting to my new stature. The twig like arms at my sides bulk up slightly - but not too much, just ready for basic lifting. A strong funk growing under my pits. “Wot are yous?” He questions, running a hand across my bicep.
“A—a uni…a university s—st—student.” I stutter, unconvinced by my own assertion.
Aah! My neck loudly cracks, thickening below my chin as my vocal chords adjust. Tingling, my ears stretch and pull forward, sticking out embarrassingly far from my head. I couldn’t see it but my hair had receded to a harsh short crop - framing a distinctly more dim and thuggish looking face, mimicking the other lads hot chavvy style. Wait. Hot? F—uck me. My thoughts were getting all messed up. Loike, you know, hard ‘n shit.
“Dat’s it bruv, throw all that smart crap away, like the stinking trash it is. Right into the fucking bin. Cuz mate, yeh gonna be assigned to the bins. A simple bin boy.” Dan hands me an empty black bin bag, my fingers automatically grip at its opening. Now I really did look the part. “Go on, throw yeh smarts all in dere.” Heavy shiz innit?” What the…impossibly, the bag starts to fill up, I feel the weight begin to lightly pull on my arm. A looseness swells in my mind. No. Fuck that. I was going to university, was going to get a degree.
With a last ditch effort my common sense takes charge and attempts to break free, but instead Dan just laughs and pulls me closer. He grabs my head and buries it deep within his hairy armpit. I struggle for a few seconds before I succumb, swallowing his heady musk like an addict. Eventually he pulls away and stares at my blissed out, sweaty face. The bag in my hand felt so heavy and full as my brain continued to empty straight into it. Bit by bit.
“Wot was it you said, ‘pungent’? Bet you can’t even say dat word no more dunce.” P-un-junt. He was wrong…I didn’t even know what the word meant now. Not knowing made me feel so good downstairs. Pleasurable.
The rank smell didn’t seem too bad anymore either, I barely even noticed it as it radiated from every part of me. I sniff at myself, my cock instantly chubbing up in response. “Pee-uu, I fukin’ pong!” I stank like a propa lad. Tough as fuck; hard as balls. Eau de Chav. My stance changes, my back slacking as my neck leans forward. My mouth pulls into a gormless grin. Eyes distant. The trash bag bloats a bit more, inhibitions and manners dislodging free from my head. God, it wouldn’t stop. My tense arms relax and my free hand enters my pockets, pulling the crotch forward on my grubby, sagging jogger. I was gunna get a degree all right, a degree in deez nutz.
I thrust my groin out at Dan. “Huhu. At this rate B-boy, you’re gonna make the rest of us look like geniuses. Is wot you get for thinking you’re so much better. Not so much anymore, king moron.” King? Yeah, I’m the king, the MVP. OG. The GOAT. Number 1 trash clearer here boys!
Trash…wait, I…“Uhhh.” An unfamiliarly dense sound leaves my lips. The bin bag in my hand sagged low as it strained to contain all the complexities of my simplifying personality. The more the bag filled up, the better I felt. Man that’s wack. It was well exciting, straight up.
“Wot r yous, mate?” Dan asks again, bluntly - bearing down on me.
I had some recollection of having to be somewhere else… but where else would a illiterate chav like me need to be? I was lucky to get this job at all like. I needed to be a good worker grunt, doing what I’m told, following instructions. “A dumb stinking fukin’ tradie innit. A bin boy.” I answer in a typical working class accent, dull and thick. Expertly adopting the other lads rather basic and crude speech patterns. All my school knowledge was unburdened from my shrinking mind, loading up the bin bag, pulling the thin material taut. “Head’s as empty as dese bloody bins will be, for real. No cap. Huhaww.” I mumble, guffawing at my childish, witless joke like a dumb donkey.
Dan the man passes me a vape and I instinctively lift it to my cracked lips. He then removes his hand from my shoulder and slaps me on the back. I exhale a huge plume of smoke.
“Lit, rite? The real gud shiz. Anyway, enuff dossing off. Bin boy. Time to join the rest of the chav lads, don’t worry, dey’s also thought they were above dis. Luke used’ta be a fucking engineer. Now look at yous all. Shite for brains eh. Ha. Here, get stuck in mate.” He says pointing towards several wheelie bins where my ‘workie m8’s’ were, a clear smile on his face. “Throw all dat useless rubbish away.” Dan motions down at the overflowing bin bag i’m holding, my mind now cleared of needless garbage. The weight of my smarts, all that fukin’ wank knowledge is heavy in my hand. Gotta dump it innit. I follow him over to the rear of the garbage truck and hesitate as I look down. Maybe I shouldn’t? Man, ain’t this stuff like important or somefink? The bag strains for the final time as my cares and worries flow right into it. Ughh. Fooking hell. That’s much better like. Sorted. I toss the stuffed bag into the compactor, shuddering as my old identity and intellect joins the rest of the pile of stinking refuse and is subsequently crushed flat. Where it belonged.
Huhu. I was a rite thicko now. A thick as shit workie. Propa. “Ye, well wicked mate.”
“Good lad. Feels fucking cushy ey? Get to the rest now B-boy. The quicker we finish up ‘ere the quicker we can welcome you to the crew and my cock can get stuffed up dat tight arse.” Dan informs, patting my large rear end.
“Whaheyy!” The immature lads behind him tease, crudely thrusting their crotches into their hands. “Boiiii is gonna be dicked. Dicked good. Then he gonna be ‘bum boy’. Bet yous ‘ard just finking bout it like!” Luke teases, making a wanking motion with his hand while they all laugh, me included. Cheeky wanker. Bum boy. Fukin’ funny. They’s clever in all.
I was hard though, stiff as a door nail in fact. “Horny. True dat.” I openly admit. My dong obviously tenting for all to see as I get to work, quickly catching on to the job - not that it was very difficult. Just lifting crap and throwing it away, even I could do this. It was like I was made for this. The lads are ace too, shooting the shit with Luke - the big L, complaining bout last nights footie scores. Simple tasks and simple talk. I luv it.
Half an hour later and I was bent over inside a stinking porta potty, getting my once virgin hole stretched out by Dan’s smelly unwashed cock. And then being spun around to lick those moist nuts clean. I hear Luke and the other lads enthusiastically chatting outside as they wait their turn with the new company hire. My arse was just a bin to dump their cum into. Living up to my new nickname ‘Bum, the bin boy’.
___________
Eventually we finish up and the truck moves onto the next area, leaving us to run from house to house and unloading the bins left outside. I’m stopped by some trussed up guy in a blazer passing down the street. For some bizarre reason this ‘Timothy’ seems to think he knows me. Rambling on about coursework and other bollocks. That out of pocket shit pissed me off, he was making fun of me, thinking he was better because of some ‘degree’. I grab his shoulder, pass him a bin bag and tell him to fill it up, that his ‘ead needs a good emptying.
“Gah. That’s pu-pung…dat reeks mate!” He groans dimly as ‘Tim’ joins the bin boy crew, his sweaty fat arse pushing out of his new sagging joggers. Ready to get bummed. Fan-fucking-tastic.
So I’ve been taking a tour of a dairy farm today and the tour guide’s been eyeing me weirdly. Even stranger, I still haven’t seen any cows. They keep promising me I’ll meet them soon… Any idea what’s up with that?
Such a precarious situation. Perhaps the crumpled papers you found can give you some context:
Entry 1
I don’t know where I am. I don’t know how I got here.
The last thing I remember is the end of the farm tour. The guide... that guy with the small, mean eyes... said I was special. He said I was going to get a "behind-the-scenes" look. Then, I think I blacked out. I woke up in this room and I've been here ever since... Banging on the walls for hours, screaming for someone to let me out, but the workers just walk past. There are two of them standing right outside the door right now, talking like nothings wrong. It's making me sick.
One of them finally brought me a bowl of this thick, white sludge. I didn’t want to drink it, but I’m so thirsty, and my throat feels like it’s full of sawdust. It tasted weird... bland and chalky.
Fuck.
Why am I here? What do they want? Why won't the talk to me? If I can just keep my head clear, maybe I can find a way to break the lock when they come back to feed me.
I have to stay focused. I can’t let them see how scared I actually am.
Entry 2
I didn’t sleep at all last night. Every time I started to drift off, I heard that low, rumbling sound from down the hall... like a hum, or maybe someone grunting. It didn't sound human. I kept pressing my back against the wall, trying to stay as far from the door as possible.
I... I thought I was having a heart attack today. My chest feels... weird. There's this dull, throbbing ache right under my skin. Maybe its from how I was laying? Anxiety? Fuck... it just feels so heavy and sore. My nipples too... they feel sensitive. Whenever my shirt rubs against them, it sends this sharp, stinging sensation through my whole torso. It doesn't hurt, but it's definitely noticeable. It’s probably just irritation from the fabric; I’m probably just making it a bigger deal than it is because I’m so stressed out.
The workers came by again this morning. They didn't say a word, just slid another bowl of that sludge through the slot. I really tried not to drink it, but I’m starving, and my stomach feels like it’s eating itself. It went down so easily, almost like my body was craving it.
I checked the walls again. Still nothing. No windows, no cracks, no way to climb out. I tried to ask one of the workers what's going on, but he ignore me. Doesn't look like they'll be of any help.
Entry 3
My chest feels heavy. Really heavy. It’s not just a dull ache anymore... it’s like the muscle is actually pushing against the skin, stretching it tight. When I looked down this morning, it definitely looked swollen. Puffy and sore. I pressed on it to see and fuck it hurt so much I had to stop. Just this horrible achiness. I haven't touch it since.
I heard them talking today. The workers. They stopped right outside my room, acting like I wasn't even there.
"The new one is coming along fast," one of them said. "Look at the tissue development. He's going to be one of the best producers we've seen all season."
"Producer." That’s what they called me. What does that even mean? I wanted to scream at them, to ask what they were doing to me, but my voice just died in my throat. They didn't even acknowledge that I was listening; they just acted like I was some kind of animal they were grading.
I’m so scared. I keep trying to think clearly, trying to plan a way out, but my mind feels… fuzzy. Like I’m moving through water. I just want to go home. Please, I just want to wake up in my own bed.
Entry 4
They came in today. Three of them. I tried to back away, to scramble into the corner, but there’s nowhere to go in this steel box. They didn’t even argue. They just grabbed my clothes... my shirt, my pants... and tore them off like. I’ve been completely naked since. I’m trying to huddle up, knees to my chest, trying to cover myself with my arms, but my chest is so sensitive now that even the air in this room feels like it's stinging me. Every time I breathe, my nipples ache, like they're being pulled or pinched.
It’s humiliating. I just want to hide, but they keep staring.
Then, they brought the sludge. They didn't even put it in a bowl this time. One of them just threw it at me. It splashed all over my chest and arms. It’s so thick, so sticky. I was so disgusted at first, but I couldn't help it. I started licking it off my arm, and it… it tasted so good. I couldn't stop. I even licked it off the floor when it dripped down.
When I looked up, they were watching me, and they seemed so satisfied. Like I was doing exactly what I was supposed to be doing. I noticed my arms while I was licking the stuff off. There’s hair growing, thick and dark, more than there was a day ago. Why is this happening to me? My head feels so heavy, like I can’t quite think straight, but I keep wanting more of that drink. I hate it, but I’m so hungry.
Entry 5
There's something wrong with my body. I woke up this morning to find my chest wet. I thought maybe I had spilled some of that sludge in my sleep, but then I felt it. A slow, warm trickling down my chest. It was coming from my nipples. They were leaking, a thin, white fluid that was matting into all this new, dark hair that’s sprouted across my chest.
Before I could even wrap my head around it, they came. They just dragged me out of the room. I felt so small, so exposed, as they marched me down the hallway.
They strapped me into a machine. It had these cold, metal cups that suctioned right onto my chest. I tried to fight them, I really did, but my muscles felt sluggish, heavy, and weak. When the machine turned on, a pulse of electricity or suction... I don’t know what it was... shot through me.
It was an overwhelming, jolting kind of pleasure. I arched my back, my breath hitching as the machine squeezed and pulled at me, forcing the white fluid out. I felt helpless, exposed, and utterly humiliated, but I couldn't stop the moan that ripped out of my throat. I heard the workers talking, their voices echoing off the tile walls.
"Look at that output."
"The volume is already exceeding the previous batch. He’s a natural."
"Customers are gonna love his milk."
"See how his pecs are already hardening? He’s going to be a prime producer. Keep the vacuum pressure steady, we don't want to over-tax the tissue this early."
They talked about me like I was a piece of equipment being calibrated. I just hung there, my head lolling back, completely unable to do anything but take the sensation. When they finally detached the cups, I felt lighter, like the heavy pressure that had been building for days had been drained away. I felt… relieved.
But it didn't last. By the time they dragged me back to my room and tossed me inside, I could already feel the throb starting again. The pressure is coming back, deeper and faster than before. I’m scared. I’m so, so scared, but I can’t stop thinking about how good it felt when they forced it out of me. What is happening to my head?
Entry 6
They moved me. I am in the big pen now. I thought it was just me, but... I was pushed into a giant room with the others.
God. God. What are they?
I am hiding in the corner. I don't want them to see me. I want to be small. But I am not small anymore. My chest is huge. It feels tight, stretched, like it’s going to pop. And the others… they are monsters. Men, but they aren't men. They're huge... hairy... They're just standing there, or crawling on the floor, drooling. One of them, he has these massive, sagging pecs, and he’s just… groping them. Pulling at them. Grunting.
I’m horrified. I tried to back away, but another one came over. He looked at me with these empty, glassy eyes. He reached out with thick, calloused fingers and poked at my chest. I screamed, but he just grunted and drooled on my shoulder. It was warm. Disgusting.
I heard the workers on the catwalk above.
"The herd is agitated," one says.
"They’re just getting used to the new producer," the other one laughs. "He looks frightened. Good. The adrenaline spike always makes the first week of production more potent."
"Look at him," they say, laughing. "He’s trying to stay human. It’s cute."
But I am a person. I am...
Why are they touching me? Why is it so hot in here? Why do I want to grunt back at them? My hands are shaking so bad I can hardly hold this pen. I need to get out. I need to get out now before I start acting like them. I don't want to be like them. I don't.
Entry 7
Everything feels so slow. My head... heavy. Like thick mud.
Machine again today. Dragged off. Everything is loud and bright. The workers are talking, talking, talking... words don't make sense. Sounds like noise. Just noise. They want the stuff. They always want the stuff.
The machine was hard. Fast. Pulled so much out. I felt... empty. But the good kind of empty. Back in the pen, it started again. Fast. Leaking down my chest. It’s sticky. Everything is sticky. My chest, my cock... So big...
Another one came over. A big one. He saw me leaking. He didn't look at my face, just my chest. He started pressing. Hard. Hands all over, kneading, squeezing. It hurt a little, but... it felt right. Helped me get more out.
I started helping him, too. Pressing into him. His chest is so big, so full. So hairy. His nipples taste... so good... We just sat there. Grunting.
Why am I doing this? I don't know. The pressure in my chest is better now. Just want to sit. Feel pecs... Just want to be close...
Entry 8
head hurt so bad. to much thort. chest is so big now. hevy. look down and just see pecs. hair everywhere thick and black.
the sweet drink come today. i lick it from floor. want more. allways want more.
the other ones touch me. grabed my meat. squeezeing. i leak and leak. i grunt at them. they grunt back. we just stand close. warm. it feel gud.
workers on wall laugh. make noised. i dont look up. dont care.
chest full again already. aching. hot. just want the hands to squeeze. want it out...
Entry 9
the big ones here now. hands all over... squeeze hard. pullin at my meat. i pull back. gruntin. mouth open. droolin on the floor.
big cock... he pushes inside me. squeeze my pecs. so much pleasure. so much ache. push. squeeze. empty out.
don't want to think. head quiet. just heat. just pressure. just hunger.
big hands. wet skin. thick heavy pecs. need to be squeezed.
need to leak.
more.
more.
more.
....................
Your hands tremble so violently that the paper crinkles, your fingers slick with the same sweet residue that still clings to your lips. You barely register the cramped, steel-walled pen they just tossed you into. Too busy trying to make sense of what you just read. Too distracted by the throbbing, achy pressure of your increasingly heavier pecs, where thick, dark hairs are already beginning to sprout and itch against your sensitive, stretching skin.
You glance back down at the scrawled note in your grip, but you're already having a hard time rereading the words.
A grunt breaks you out of your increasingly slower train of thought, and you look up to see one of them. His massive, hair-matted, leaking pecs blocking your view. His chest heaving with each guttural breath. His glassy eyes lock onto your chest. And as his calloused hand reaches out for your swollen, aching pecs, you don't recoil. You can't.
The room quickly fills with your own mindless, gutteral grunts.
I woke up to the sound of the dorm shower shutting off and the heavy, wet footsteps of my roommate crossing the room.
Reece.
Even the name still sent a dark little thrill through me every single morning.
He stepped into the main room still dripping, curly brown hair plastered in messy, damp ringlets across his forehead, that signature half-smirk already tugging at his full lips like he knew exactly how ridiculous he looked and didn’t give a single fuck. Water and sweat mixed on his skin, turning it into a glossy, golden map of muscle. Those heavy pecs rose and fell with each breath, the deep cleft between them shiny and inviting, dark nipples still tight from the cold water. His abs flexed and rippled as he towel-dried his hair, every ridge and cut standing out in sharp relief. The towel hung dangerously low on his hips, the thick root of his cock just barely hidden, the heavy bulge shifting with every step.
“Morning, nerd,” he rumbled in that deep, post-sleep baritone, voice still rough from sleep and the way he’d probably been moaning my name into his pillow an hour earlier. He caught me staring and flexed one arm lazily, watching the bicep peak and the veins stand out along his forearm. A bead of water traced down the curve of his pec, caught on the nipple, and dropped onto the floor. “You gonna keep eye-fucking me or you actually getting up today?”
I grinned, cock already thickening under the sheets. “What? I'm just appreciating the view. You look like you got run over by the protein truck again.”
Reece laughed, low and easy, and turned to grab his gym bag. The motion made those massive lats flare and that perfect bubble ass flex under the towel. He had no idea. No clue that a week ago he’d been my balding, beer-gutted, ranting homophobic father. No memory of the slurs, the lectures, the way he used to sneer at anything that wasn’t “normal.” All of that had been scrubbed clean by Chronivac.
Now he was Reece—my 22-year-old, 6'2", 225-pound bi jock roommate who thought we’d been sharing this dorm since freshman year. And he was mine in every way that mattered.
I waited until he left for his morning lift before I pulled out my phone and opened the app again. The interface glowed softly.
Target locked: Reece.
Status: Oblivious.
Reality stable.
I scrolled through the categories I’d already tweaked and felt my cock twitch at the memory of how it had all started.
What happened exactly? It had been last Friday night.
My dad—Robert—had shown up at the dorm unannounced, same sour expression, same gut straining against his polo, same receding hair and judgmental eyes. He’d taken one look at the rainbow flag sticker on my laptop and launched into the usual bullshit about “real men” and “phases” and how I needed to “fix my shit before it’s too late.”
I’d smiled, nodded, offered him the pull-out couch, and waited until he passed out drunk on cheap beer and self-righteousness.
Then I opened Chronivac.
I’d set the parameters with shaking hands and a throbbing dick.
Name: Reece Thompson.
Age: 22.
Height: 6'2".
Weight: 225 lbs.
Body Type: Competition-ready jock, low body fat, maximal muscle density, tanned skin, thick curly brown hair, handsome face with natural smirk.
I’d spent a long time on the body sliders.
Shoulders: +40%.
Chest: +65% — heavy, rounded, deep cleavage, sensitive nipples.
Arms: 19-inch biceps, thick vascular forearms.
Abs: deep-cut 8-pack with sharp obliques.
Legs: tree-trunk quads, diamond calves, and an ass that would make grown men cry.
I previewed it and nearly came in my sweats at the render.
Cock & Balls: 8.5 inches soft, 10.5 hard, thick as a wrist, heavy low-hanging balls, constant precum production, high sensitivity, refractory period near zero.
Ass: Plump muscular bubble, tight when flexed but soft and greedy when relaxed, prostate hypersensitive.
Libido: Maximum. Always horny. Leaks easily. Gets hard from flexing, from being watched, from my voice.
Personality: Cocky, outgoing, gym-obsessed jock bro. Openly bisexual. Flirty with everyone. Secretly submissive and eager to please only around me—his “nerd roommate.” High confidence, zero homophobia, zero shame.
Awareness: Off. Full reality rewrite enabled.
Apply – Gradual Over 90 Minutes.
I hit that button. Then I sat in the dark and watched my father become my perfect roommate.
It started in his face. The snoring stopped for a second as the skin smoothed. Deep lines around his eyes and mouth faded like they’d never existed. His receding hairline surged forward, strands thickening, darkening, curling into those messy brown waves that now framed Reece’s face so perfectly. His jaw cracked softly and squared out, stubble reshaping into the light, sexy scruff that suited him. His lips parted on a sleepy sigh and settled into that permanent half-smirk. Even unconscious, he looked cocky and fuckable.
His neck thickened next, cords standing out, Adam’s apple more pronounced. When he mumbled something in his sleep it already sounded deeper, smoother, younger.
The chest was the part that made me pull my cock out and start stroking slow and tight.
Under the old polo, his soft tits began to swell. The fabric stretched with a quiet creak. I watched the shape change—fat melting, muscle packing on in heavy, rounded slabs. His nipples pushed outward, darkening, growing sensitive enough that even in sleep one hand drifted up and rubbed across the new chest. The polo rode higher and higher as the pecs inflated, the deep valley between them forming right before my eyes. Throb… pulse… stretch… I could almost hear the tissues remolding. By the time the changes slowed, two heavy, meaty pecs strained the fabric, the outline of those fat nipples obvious. A bead of sweat already glistened in the new cleavage.
His gut followed, shrinking fast. The beer belly caved in with wet, sucking sounds I felt more than heard. Skin tightened. Muscle carved itself into existence—first the top row of abs, then the lower ones, deep cuts appearing between each block until an 8-pack sat where the paunch had been. His waist pulled in, creating that sharp V that arrowed straight down to his crotch. The polo was now comically tight, seams popping one by one with tiny pop-pop sounds as his lats and chest kept growing.
Shoulders broadened with dull cracks, delts capping, traps rising. His arms inflated like someone was pumping air into them. Biceps rounded and split, veins rising to the surface in thick ropes. The sleeves of the polo shredded at the seams with satisfying rrriip sounds. He shifted in his sleep, one new massive arm flopping over the edge of the couch, and I had to bite my knuckle to keep from moaning out loud.
Lower body next. His legs lengthened slightly as height adjusted, then packed with muscle. Quads swelled against his pants until the fabric stretched shiny and thin. Calves hardened into diamonds. And that ass—fuck, that ass. It rose and rounded, cheeks firming and lifting into two perfect, muscular globes that pushed the seat of his pants to the absolute limit. Stretch… swell… clench… I watched the fabric ride up between the cheeks as they grew. He was going to have the kind of ass that looked obscene in anything he wore.
The crotch was last and the best. Even asleep, his body knew what was happening. His cock began to lengthen down one thigh, thickening visibly, the bulge growing and shifting. Throb… pulse… thicken… The head pushed against the fabric, forming a clear outline. His balls swelled into heavy, churning orbs that made the fabric tent. Almost immediately the high libido kicked in—dark wet spot blooming at the tip of the bulge as precum started soaking through. His hips twitched. A low, unconscious groan left his new deeper voice. I stroked myself faster, matching the rhythm of his growing cock.
Over the next hour the changes refined. Skin tone warmed and tanned. A light dusting of hair appeared across the new pecs and abs, just enough to catch sweat and make everything glisten. The old clothes morphed—polo and pants becoming a tight black tank and gray gym shorts that barely contained the new body. When he finally stirred and sat up, stretching those massive arms overhead, pecs bouncing and flexing, he looked exactly like the man now living in my dorm.
“Shit, I crashed hard,” he said in that new voice, rubbing his face. The smirk appeared naturally. “Did you just let me sleep on the couch like a fucking animal, bro?”
I played it cool even though my cock was still leaking in my hand under the blanket. “You looked comfortable. Rough night?”
He stood, and the new body moved like it had always belonged to him. Shoulders rolling, pecs shifting, that heavy cock swinging in the loose shorts. “Nah. Just lifted late. You know how it is.” He scratched his abs absently, fingers tracing the new cuts. “Gonna shower. You need anything before I head out?”
I shook my head, watching the way his ass flexed as he walked away. The reality rewrite had already settled. In his mind we’d been roommates since freshman. My dad had “taken a job out of state.” No one questioned it. No one remembered the old version except me.
And I made sure to enjoy every second of the new one.
Over the next few days I made small, delicious adjustments while he was awake and oblivious.
Tuesday afternoon he was in the middle of push-ups on the dorm floor, tank top soaked through, curly hair falling into his eyes. I sat at my desk pretending to study and opened Chronivac.
Chest size +8%.
Nipple sensitivity +20%.
Apply gradual.
I watched as Reece's pecs swell right there on the floor. Each rep made them bounce heavier, fuller. The tank stretched tighter. His nipples, already sensitive from the first round of changes, darkened and pebbled visibly against the fabric. He grunted through the set, sweat dripping from his chin onto the deep cleavage.
“Fuck, pump’s insane today,” he panted, completely unaware that every rep was making his chest grow. By the time he finished, those pecs were noticeably heavier, the tank looking painted on. He stood up, rolled his shoulders, and caught me staring. “What? You like the pump too, nerd?”
I swallowed. “Yeah. Looks good on you.”
He grinned that cocky grin and flexed both arms, then bounced his pecs deliberately. “These bad boys? Been growing like crazy lately. Must be the new protein shake.” He stepped closer, still breathing hard, musk rolling off him in waves. “You can feel these milkers if you want. Spotter’s privilege or whatever.”
Fuck yeah, I want it.
I reached out and ran both hands over the hot, sweat-slick juicy muscle. They were so full now, so heavy, bulging under my fingers. When I brushed his nipples he let out a soft, surprised nnnghhh and his cock twitched visibly in his shorts. A tiny wet spot appeared at the tip. He didn’t even seem to notice.
“Sensitive today,” he muttered, but he didn’t pull away. If anything he leaned into my touch, eyes half-lidded. That submissive streak I’d programmed was already showing. “Feels… good when you do it, though.”
I squeezed gently and watched his eyes flutter. “Yeah? Maybe I should spot you more often.”
He laughed, low and breathy. “You know what, maybe you should.”
By Thursday I’d added more. Bigger balls. Higher cum volume. Ass sensitivity cranked. And a little extra spice, whenever he was around me and horny, he’d start leaking steadily without realizing it. Reality made sure no one else noticed the wet spots or the constant bulge. Only I got to see how desperate he really was.
That night he came back from the gym looking like a hot mess—curly hair damp, skin glistening, chest pumped and shiny, that smirk in full effect. He dropped his bag, peeled the soaked tank off with a wet schlick, and tossed it aside. Those heavy pecs bounced free, nipples tight and dark. Sweat ran in rivulets down the deep cleft and over the carved abs. He caught me looking and didn’t even pretend to be shy.
“Shower’s all yours if you want it,” he said, but he didn’t move toward the bathroom. Instead he stepped closer, still in those low gym shorts that clung to his thick thighs and the massive, half-hard bulge. The wet spot at the tip was obvious now, fabric dark and clinging to the fat head of his cock. “Or… you could help me cool down first.”
I stood up. My own cock was already rock hard. “How do you want me to help, Reece?”
"Hmmmm, I don't know," He licked his lips, eyes flicking down to my bulge and back up. The cocky jock mask slipped just enough to show the hunger underneath. “Been thinking about your hands on me all day. That spot you gave me the other night? Fuckkkk. Couldn’t stop replaying it.” He reached down and adjusted himself, the thick length shifting heavily. A fresh bead of precum soaked through. “You make me so fucking hard lately, bro. Is that weird?”
I stepped in until our bodies almost touched. The heat rolling off him was incredible. “Not weird at all. I like it. You like it.”
His breath hitched when I ran my palms up his sweat-slick chest, thumbs circling those sensitive nipples. He groaned—deep, needy—and his cock jumped, another pulse of precum darkening the shorts even more. “Nngh—fuck, you're right, nerd. I like your hands…”
I leaned in and licked a stripe up the center of his chest, tasting salt and musk and pure jock. He shuddered, one big hand coming up to grip the back of my neck, not pushing me away but holding me there. I sucked one nipple into my mouth and he actually whimpered, hips bucking forward so that massive bulge pressed against my stomach.
“Bed,” I murmured against his skin. “Now.”
He went willingly, that big body dropping onto the mattress like he’d been waiting for the command. I stripped him the rest of the way and just stared for a second. The cock that sprang free was obscene—thick, veiny, ten and a half inches of throbbing meat, heavy balls drawn up tight, the head already shiny and leaking a steady stream. His ass flexed as he spread his legs for me, hole already twitching.
I took my time. Sucked that fat cock until my jaw ached and his moans filled the room. Schlick… slurp… gluck… He leaked constantly, sweet and salty on my tongue, hips rolling in little desperate circles. When I finally pulled off he was panting, curly hair sticking to his forehead, pecs heaving.
“Fuuuccckkk meeee,” he begged, voice rough. “Pleeeeaseee, roomie. Need it.”
I prepped him slow and thorough, two fingers, then three, watching his greedy hole swallow them. Every brush over his prostate made his cock jump and spurt more precum onto his abs. By the time I pushed inside him he was babbling—cocky jock talk mixed with desperate begging.
“Holyyyy shittt—yeah, stretch me out—FUCK, your dick feels so good in my ass—been wanting this all week—nngh, deeper, bro, please—”
I fucked him hard and deep, watching those heavy pecs bounce with every thrust, abs flexing, curly hair bouncing, that handsome face slack with pleasure. His cock slapped wetly against his stomach, smearing precum everywhere. The sounds were filthy—skin on skin, wet squelch of lube and precum, his broken moans, my own grunts. I reached down and stroked him in time with my thrusts and he came with a shout, thick ropes painting his chest, some landing on his own face and in his open mouth. His ass clamped down so hard I saw stars and followed him over the edge, pumping deep inside that perfect, twitching hole.
Afterward he lay there wrecked and gorgeous, cum cooling on his skin, chest still heaving, that lazy post-orgasm smirk back in place. He reached up and dragged a finger through the mess on his pec, then sucked it clean with a filthy little sound.
“Round two in ten?” he asked, already half-hard again.
I laughed, low and satisfied, and reached for my phone where it sat on the nightstand. Chronivac still open. I could already see the next tweaks I wanted—maybe make that cock even thicker, or add a little more submissiveness so he’d beg prettier, or turn up the nipple sensitivity until he could cum just from me playing with his chest.
Reece—my Reece—stretched like a big satisfied cat, completely oblivious, completely mine.
“Whatever you want, roomie,” I said, already sliding the sliders. “I’ve got all night.”
And I did. The Chronivac glowed. His body was already starting to respond again, cock twitching, nipples tightening, that perfect ass clenching in anticipation he didn’t understand.
Weeks blurred into the best semester of my life. Reece just being a perfect roommate for me in every single way. He's the perfect jock bro who somehow anticipated every need before I even voiced it. He’d wake up early to make me protein-packed breakfasts, shirtless and still sleepy, those heavy pecs swaying as he flipped eggs and hummed off-key. He quizzed me on lecture notes while doing sets of push-ups between my desk and the bed, his pumped chest glistening, that cocky smirk flashing every time I got an answer right. After long nights hunched over textbooks he’d pull me into his lap, big hands kneading the knots out of my shoulders and back until the massage inevitably turned filthy.
And you know the rest of it. He’d fuck me slow and deep right there in the desk chair, one arm braced beside my open textbook, the other stroking my cock in time with his thrusts, whispering encouragement between kisses until we both came in a messy, groaning tangle. And every single time he acted like it was the most natural thing in the world for a bi jock to dote on his stressed-out roommate like this. He had no idea how perfectly I’d programmed him to be exactly what I needed.
Exam week hit hard. I was a wreck—eyes bloodshot, shoulders locked, barely sleeping, stress radiating off me in waves. Reece noticed immediately. He didn’t push, just brought me extra snacks, left little encouraging notes on my desk like “You’re gonna crush it, roomie”, and gave me those long, grounding hugs that always ended with his hand sliding into my sweats for a quick, filthy handjob that left me boneless and a little less panicked. This morning he’d kissed the back of my neck before heading out, murmuring, “Text me if it gets too much. I’ve got you.” I thought that was it.
I was already sitting in class, and almost everyone had already left. One exam was over, and two more were left. I took a deep breath as my phone lit up with a message from him.
Reece:
Hey stressed boy. Saw how tense you looked when you left. Figured my favorite nerd needed something to take the edge off before that exam. Don’t overthink it. You’ve got this. I’m so fucking proud of you.
Come home after and I’ll help you celebrate properly. Love you, bro 💪❤️🍆
Attached was a video.
I opened it with shaking hands, already half-hard from the tone alone.
“Figured you needed a reminder of what’s waiting for you when that exam’s over,” he rumbled, voice low and intimate like he was right there in the room with me.
“Been thinking about you all morning, roomie. How haaaarddd you’re working… how gooood you’re gonna look when you ace this shit.” He wrapped his big hand around the shaft and started stroking—slow, deliberate, wet schlick-schlick sounds filling the audio as more precum leaked steadily, dripping onto the tile between his feet. His balls hung heavy and full, swinging with every stroke.
"These are all pumped for you. Wish you were here so I could shove your face between them while you study.” His strokes sped up, the head of his cock flaring, the wet sounds getting louder and messier.
“Gonna cum for you right now, bro. Think about this load painting your chest later… or filling that tight ass after your exam. You deserve it. You’re gonna do so fucking good.” His breathing grew ragged, that handsome face tightening with pleasure, the cocky smirk melting into something raw and desperate. “Nngh—fuck—here it comes—FUCKKKK—watch me, roomie—”
Reece came hard, thick ropes of cum erupting across his abs and up onto those heavy pecs, some splattering his chin and lower lip. He kept stroking through it, milking every pulse, hips jerking, deep groans echoing in the locker room. When it finally slowed he brought the camera back up to his cum-streaked chest and smirked again, licking a stray drop from his lip.
“There. Now go crush that exam like the smart, sexy nerd you are. I’ll be waiting. Love you.”
The video ended on that smirk and those glistening, cum-covered pecs.
I set the phone down, took a deep breath, and turned back to my notes with a small, private smile. The exam suddenly felt manageable. And when it was over, I knew exactly who would be waiting—shirtless, smirking, already half-hard and ready to help me celebrate in the filthiest, most caring way possible.
Thanks to Chronivac, my annoying homophobic dad was nothing but a distant memory. In his place was Reece—my perfect, ridiculously devoted, best jock roommate ever who somehow always knew exactly how to take care of me.
I fucked up, I used the Chronivac to make my dad have been a muscle bull in his youth to try and rig my own genetics in my favor but now all the academic awards me and my brothers had earned have changed into athletic ones and my dads study in the basement is gone and the whole space has become a home gym! Each day my brothers and I are getting more beefy and less mentally sharp, please help before we’re all stuck as smelly bros!
Hold on, let me check this out. Hold on! Wait, wait, wait! That's your father?
Your father is a fucking legend! I still have the issue of FLEX 04/2004. Your father on the cover. He was my motivation to start training. He inspired a whole generation. Do you remember his Sun's out Guns out initiative from 2006? When it was recommended that only sleeveless tops be worn in high schools? That was insane motivation for the entire nation to run to the gym and get those biceps burning, wasn't it?
Or in 2012, when as an advisor he convinced President Jay Cutler to ban men under 25 from using deodorant? Man, I was just a sophomore in college then. Most of the time after that, we would also skip showering right after workouts and fuck right away. I still get a boner when I smell a guys locker room.
Bro, what was your problem again? What did you write? I got a little carried away. But I'm just a huge fan of your old man. So: you're asking if Chronivac Inc. can support him in his run for Senate? Honestly, it takes more Big Bros like your dad in politics. Lately, I believe the Crossfitters have been getting too much influence. I'll pass your request along to the lads in marketing and they'll get back to you.
One more request from my colleagues in support: Will you forward our photo to your father? What we are, we owe to him. Thank you very much!
“Nico, what the hell! I’m gonna kick—” Iker had to barge into his own room after his little brother had locked him out. The twerp must have been in there the entire afternoon while he was out. However, upon getting inside was not his brother waiting for him. A massive man laid in his bed, with only a slight resemblance to his brother. The face was similar, sans facial hair but the body? Where had those carved biceps come from? The vein trailing from the shoulder to the forearm was insane. The chest that lay before him had slabs of beef that overqualified as pecs. Twin sets of skull crushing thighs fed down into his lower half. Then there was the gray, briefs bunched up, barely able to contain what it held anymore.
“Holy shit.” Iker started drinking more of the man.
The re-release of older gaming systems and official emulation mods to run older games had been talked about all over the world. It was originally supposed to celebrate the PS2, but once companies saw the hype, they wanted to jump in. Not that Iker cared about all that, he knew the exact games he wanted to try. The download however was taking forever (slow internet sucked!) so he just left out for a few hours. He never thought his brother would have the cajónes to sneak into his room. Nico had been meek and mild but the man currently lounging in Iker’s bed was quite brazen.
“You want your controller back, go ahead and take it, big bro. I think I’m done with it anyway,” Nico gave a short nod to his bulge. Iker's voice ran dry, as he crawled onto the bed between Nico’s legs. It wasn’t fair, Iker was supposed to be the jock of the family. The handsome one. The muscular one. But it was hard to deny how attractive Nico looked. Iker’s hand tentatively reached for his controller, sensing a warmth the closer it got. Nico’s cock throbbed and the controller shifted, falling against his thigh, as Iker’s hand landed squarely on Nico’s pouch. Whatever was under his briefs wanted out and was begging Iker to do it.
In time the news would reveal the grand gaming system ‘vintage’ world release, did more than reintroduce old games. Every ‘gamer’ that participated in the initial wave got struck with an additional 20 years, that no scientist could rationalize as to how. Countless people were affected in various ways, across lives, habits, personalities, and relationships, but the end result being the same: Hotter gamers introduced into the market.
—
Dirk’s situation was a bit more different. He was in the living room when it happened. His younger brothers were playing the GameCube emulation with a revamped old Mario game collection disk. Not much to do on a summer Sunday than hang around in the house in one's skivvies. Such was a tradition passed down by their dad, who was currently knocked out, still asleep in bed still. However, Dirk had brought his gaming chairs into the living room so his brothers could play.
“I want to be player 1!” Tommy shouted.
“No, I want to be player 1!” Willis yelled back.
Their voices argued like that often and frequently especially when they were passionate. Dirk stood between their chairs and rubbed their heads, before he gently moved their heads in circles, and his brothers played along, “Little dudes, stop fighting. You’re going to wake dad up.”
“Sorry, Dirk.” They said in unison.
With a satisfied smile Dirk pushed the gaming chairs closer to the TV as they held to their respective arm rests laughing. He set up the game for them and made sure they knew exactly how to play. Then Dirk collapsed on the couch behind them, laying down, his favorite book in hand: Escape from the Dragon keep.
Snuggled up reading, he let his attention drift every so often to keep an eye on his brothers. The two were still arguing at a lower level.
“You keep dying.” Willis said
“Stoopid, that's you!” Tommy said back.
Then Dirk got to a really good chapter, the hero had to escape Dragon Island. An intense chapter with magic and action, on every turn of the page. His eyes didn't leave the book. A squeak of his gaming chairs, a snide remark thrown between his brothers, Time passed on. Then there was a small grunt, didn’t even sound like his brothers, but the chapter was over, so he took a peek. They knew better than to put hands on each other. Looking up, he didn’t spot them throwing hands, the game was still going, and their legs dangled calmly off the floor. He turned his attention back to his book.
The next chapter was slower. A big come down after a fierce fight. More squeaks as his brother’s bodies slid in their chairs. They just couldn’t stay still. He could tell because when he glanced their feet were closer to the ground. Back to his book, the slow pacing of the chapter got him yawing. His brothers coughed a few times, soft and quiet to start, then harsher and deeper a few minutes in. Were they having a cough competition? Their coughs sounded fake, like they were trying to enhance them. The two were prone to spur of the moment contests like that so Dirk wasn’t surprised, otherwise he’d have gotten the medicine out. The coughing faded into the background as Dirk’s eyes grew heavier. Before he knew it, he was asleep.
When Dirk woke up, he gave a silent yawn stretching. He stood, headed directly for the kitchen, then poured himself some water, wiping sleep from his eyes. Only when he was heading back into the living room did he realize it: he hadn’t heard his brothers fight once, not even in a hushed tone. Maybe they actually had gotten sick. He grabbed the cough medicine and headed back to the living room.
Tossing and catching the bottle he asked, “You guys feeling o—-
The bottle clattered to the floor and rolled away as Dirk froze. Sitting in his gaming chairs, were not his little brothers. Jocks had taken their place. Sure, their faces held some vestiges of Willis and Tommy, but their bodies were more akin to athletes. They had pecs, arms, abs, and legs that stretched across the floor. Their bodies had been sculpted in a way Dirk only thought was possible to see in museums. These weren’t boys, these were bros. They looked older than him. They were older than. Their presence translated that to Dirk. Their bodies, the way they sat, the lack of arguing, all of it gave off a mature air. Only contrasted by their sky-blue underwear with images of a teddy bear on the strap. Which was immediately contrasted by the bulges in the front, how the fabric stretched to the back, and the huge sets of thighs coming out the leg holes.
Dirk was lost studying Tommy’s tattoos, wondering how upset dad was going to be about them when he heard, “Bro, you okay?”
Tommy’s voice was deep, smooth, and rich. It flew into Dirk’s ears and settled into his chest.
“I think he’s better than okay,” A cocky smile sat on Willis face as he nodded to Dirk’s boxer’s. Dirk's eyes flew down; his cock had come out of his boxer’s fly. It was at full mast and there was no debating the reason why. He fumbled, trying to stuff it back in, as it just bobbed all over the place. He had to be having a weird dream. Maybe he imposed the two guys in his book onto his brother's positions.
“No need to hide it lil bro, just the guys here.” Willis added. His voice was much more abrasive, and booming, pure distilled jock in nature.
Dirk knew it wasn’t a dream, when his cock leaked precum onto his foot and the floor. He didn’t even sense it coming, just heard Willis’ voice, and was already amped up by Tommy’s voice, and like a trigger lost it. His cock bucked and there was just a slime trail running down. Dirk had never had that issue in his life growing up. Not in P.E., Not in the locker room, not even in the showers. Guys were hot, but they were never as hot as his brother’s now. His cock had turned faucet.
Willis reached over, with his thumb and forefinger and grasped the tip of Dirk’s cock, squeezing it before stealing the precum. “Fuckin sick, bro,” he said as if it were the coolest thing ever lifting the shimmering line up in the air. He tilted his head back, opened his mouth wide as he dropped it in, then swallowed. Dirk watched Willis’ Adams’ apple move and guide it down.
“Mmmm!” Willis licked his lips, “Tommy you gotta get a taste of this, Dirk’s really on it today!”
“Yeah sure, after the game.” Tommy said casually as he motioned to the screen. Dirk’s internal system crashed, hearing a much calmer and reasonable voice still claim to want his cock.
“Someone’s in a bad mood,” Tommy half stood up and swatted Dirk’s ass, “Go stand next to him little bro might cheer him up.”
Dirk found his legs responding before he even processed. Then his cock was just there next to Tommy's face.
“No thanks, I just want to game.” Tommy said as the two got back into it. Willis stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do. But then a pause came when they won a level and Tommy’s fist found Dirk’s cock and stroked it. After that every time there was a lull or pause, Tommy’s hand was on his brother’s cock. The world's worst edging as Dirk’s cock wanted to rebel whenever it was let go. Dirk could have sat down. There was nothing physically stopping him, but then Tommy pressed his face on Dirk’s cock, nuzzling and kissing it. The way Tommy’s eyes looked at Dirk was too powerful to pull away from. Then Tommy would let Dirk’s cock hang there pressed against his face.
Another level on the screen was won, but Dirk wasn’t looking because Tommy had fully stuffed his brother’s cock in his mouth for celebration. Footsteps came down the stairs, heavy weighted. Their dad was up. Dirk panicked that his dad was going to see him getting blown by strangers. And yet even knowing that, he couldn’t pull out. Their dad stepped into the living room, seeing all of them.
Willis gave a lazy wave, “Hey.”
“Good afternoon, sleepy head,” Tommy pulled off Dirk's cock. His warm mouth left Dirk’s dick in the cook air twitching.
“Dad!” Dirk shouted, his cock inched forward and bumped into Tommy’s face. It was too fucking much. His cock blasted all over his Older younger brother’s face, plastering it in white. Some shot into the air and landed on Willis.
“Oh shit,” Tommy said, noticing the hot jizz on his cheek. “Give a warning, next time,” he chuckled, tapping Dirk’s thigh, then Tommy slurped at the cum pouring out. Dirk’s legs shook as his load was extracted out of him. Meanwhile Willis looked unbothered by the cum on him.
“Boys make sure you leave the living room clean at least.” Their dad groaned, walking into the kitchen. No questions about the strange men, or where Dirk’s brothers were. Their father wasn't bothered at all.
More than his brothers’ ages were altered. Their entire family’s reality was changed. A world where Dirk was the younger brother to two post-college studs. Their lazy afternoon Sundays had devolved into unofficial ‘bro time’. No expectations of personal space with them as the older ones in charge. Surprisingly though with all the closeness, there was no more fighting between the two. Later that night, Dirk scrolled online, lying in bed. He should have gone to sleep hours ago but he was reading all about the Vintage gaming backlash. There were thousands of comments from people posting their stories. Dirk didn’t even know where to start. Stories ranged from people being aware to others denouncing the whole thing as a hoax. The changes had truly run the gambit of altering people's memory or simply adding to them. Dirk wondered where his brothers fell in that regard.
A crash came from downstairs. Dirk crept out of bed, and down the steps. Hushed voices came from the kitchen where the light had been turned on. The young man rolled his eyes, imagining his father must have come down for another afternoon snack. He strolled into the kitchen, eyes going wide at not finding the situation he imagined.
Tommy’s naked figure pounded into Willis, who was laid out on the table, beneath him. The two were fucking in the open. Hard to believe such strong bodies could be so quiet as they rutted, and yet not betray an ounce of the power each executed. “What were you thinking, getting Dirk all hot and bother with that voice of yours.”
“You’re just mad, you couldn’t make him leak.” Willis combatted, pecs jiggling with Tommy’s thrust.
“Leak? Dude, he literally nutted on my face.” Tommy bragged.
Dirk watched astounded from the shadows. They hadn’t outgrown fighting. They were fuck-fighting. Every grievance and displeasure sent by the meeting of their hips.
Tommy’s body convulsed with a soft, “FUCK.” Three loud slaps of skin then stop. He gently grabbed Willis' neck in a mock choke. “Say you’re not going to make Dirk precum again.”
“Shit,” Willis shrugged, sucking his teeth. “Wish I could, but this body’s got hormones and needs. The only reason I’m not up in his bed now is I’m afraid I’d break him. Luckily, I think you and I were made pretty even.”
Tommy dropped his hand, shaking his head. “Same. Dirk was so good with us before and all I could think about was demolishing his pelvis. Didn't want him to think I was some sex demon.”
“Ha, I think he thought that, when you attempted to suck his soul out his dick.” Willis sat up, then made a circle motion with his hands that Tommy understood. Within seconds, Tommy's hands were behind his back, and Willis had a firm grip on them. “Now, it’s time for your punishment for draining our new little bro without me.”
Dirk watched dumbfounded. They remembered he had been the older one just that morning, but their bodies needed and craved more than their former older brother could provide. Perhaps if he worked at it one day he could keep up with them, but for now he could wait in the shadows.
—
Some stories were much simpler.
Steve Moran was at a loss. He had got the PS2 system re-release and was excited to introduce his nephew to all the games he’d grown up with in his childhood. Steve’s older brother, Geoff, had never been much of a gamer and always preferred to be outside than in a chair. Steve was the common nerd beloved by his family, but still an outcast in some ways. For some reason the cross pollination of gamer & jock never took hold of Geoff, as it did with his other friends, he was too cool for video games. He’d pick up a controller looking lost as a lamb. Always asking for Steve to help out. It was never Geoff’s element; he needed a ball in his hand to excel.
His entire life Steve wished him and his brother could bond over hobbies, but they were diametrically opposed between games and sports. But then like a miracle deferred, Steve’s son, Charlie, was born and had a strong passion for games. There was finally someone for Steve to unload his passion onto and Charlie ate it all up eagerly.
When the re-release was coming Steve had personally built up the hype, getting Charlie invested. Geoff was going on a personal vacation with his wife, which meant Steve and Charlie had a whole week to lose themselves in game after game.
The PS2 was ready in the living room, when Steve dropped Charlie off. There was a bit of small talk between brothers, but Steve’s thumb twitched the entire time; his x-button masher was ready. The moment Geoff left, Steve practically flew to the couch. He tossed a controller to his nephew and told him to start the game. But then he remembered he had popcorn and soda ready to go waiting in the kitchen. He hopped up, for a second going to his counter. The familiar ‘Whoosh’ of the old system startup and it struck the nostalgia in his mind. He happily snatched up the bowl of popcorn and soda, dancing back to his TV and nephew.
His body went rigid upon seeing Geoff in his living room. Awkward as hell, Geoff knew Steve was a nerd but never seen his brother at unrestricted display. If that wasn’t weird enough, Geoff had somehow walked back in and was standing in his underwear. His older brother’s furry chest and stomach were out, but what captured Steve’s attention wasn’t even Geoff packing heat with the bulge in his underwear. Rather the game controller in Geoff’s trained arms was the true center piece. In all his years on earth, Steve had never seen his brother pick up a controller. And yet there he was holding it expertly in all his jock-dadness.
“You ready Uncle Steve?” Geoff asked
Steve blinked, upon hearing that as he slowly began to register the man in his apartment was not his older brother, just looked very close to him. Then came the thought of Charlie’s whereabouts, his nephew was nowhere to be seen. Eyes going to the ground, Steve spotted ripped clothes Charlie had on moments ago at the man’s feet. His eyes went back up, mouth agape, realizing his nephew had turned into an almost exact replica of Geoff. 20+ years pushed on him and that’s what Charlie grew into. He even had his dad's beard, the same angles for his face and everything!
Steve finally got to see what it’d be like if his older brother had been into games.
—
Stories witnessed by chance had a place in the news cycle too.
Preston was not into gaming in the slightest. He didn’t like the noise or the sounds. Digital water gave him nausea for some odd reasons. Timed missions made him anxious. Pure Overstimulation. He preferred the company of a good book. Never once would he be found outside or behind a screen. His next-door neighbor, Marques, however, had no qualms gaming or having late nights yelling with his window open.
Based on the position of their windows, Preston could peer right into Marques’ room. He’d see his neighbor, making countless expressions, jumping around, or yelling at the screen. Needless to say, Marques was very into gaming. They had co-existed in this way for years. No arguments or fighting. Preston was used to turn Marques into background noise. Not that it would matter to Preston much longer because in a few weeks he was out of here.
This neighborhood. The town. Always spinning the same cycles, he read a book like that once. The point being, his graduation had come and gone, and college was coming to take him away, while Marques and all the rest had another two years to suffer.
Was it not obvious the bookish nerd, never would have known what the vintage release was? Or why Marques rushed into his room that day. Eyes up from The Last Petal Dropped novel, he watched the black teen drop his stuff and swivel in his chair. Marques happened to look over at Preston, not one of his usual moves, and gave a head nod. Preston gave a playful two finger salute then was back in his book.
He only looked up briefly, when Marques stopped speaking. Normal curiosity. He expected to find his neighbor blowing his nose. But how wrong he was. Marques body erupted outward as if it were a dam keeping back a torrential force. However, water was not what came surging out, rather an insane muscular physique made Marques’ clothes explode and burst right off his body. The young man stood up at once, gaming chair flying back to his bed.
Preston’s mouth dropped upon seeing the hard cock pointed directly at him.
A few months later, Preston found himself at college…rooming with Marques. Unbelievable how so much could change yet nothing at all. He waited all those years to escape town, thinking of the people he’d leave behind, but they were here too. Well, he did at the very least have a boyfriend right in his dorm.
The news came so often that eventually, Preston got tired of answering. Their dorm door was closed until the vultures flocked somewhere else. It didn't matter to the boys though Preston could relax in his chair, while Marques played away. These days when Preston peered up from his book no muscles burst forth. They were already there, waiting to greet him.
“You’re getting that look again,” Marques said.
“What look?” Preston asked innocently.
A quick shake of his head, Marques would casually ask. “You trying to fuck?” lowering his voice for the roleplay.
Preston would set down his book. They could agree there was one thing that was a lot more fun than video games or a book.
—
Parents were blowing up stations to get their stories heard. The legal settlements were going to be insane if they ever figured out what grounds to sue on. Emotional distress was a good starter.
Mr. Delgado was never the type of man who thought about suing anyone. He was a single father and didn't bother anyone. Went to work and picked his son up from school. Same day in day out. Being on the younger side as a father, on account of his wandering dick as a teen, his way to distress was with a nice video game session. Now in his late 20’s it was more than a hobby; it was a fixed part of his schedule. His son Mauricio had even gotten enthralled in them.
When the Vintage re-release was announced, Mr. Delgado knew he was going to download it to introduce Mauricio to all the games he played as a kid. Back when he was just Luiz Delgado, coming home from school, not a care in the world. Sitting on his bed to play the latest game. He’d hoped now he could bond with his boy over how terrible or great the games were in hindsight. There were bound to be bad graphics, clunky dialogue, and yet still narratively heart wrenching dialogue.
Mr. Delgado was the one bouncing on the edge of his seat as the download happened. His son was in his own chair beside him, controller and headset ready to go. Mr. Delgado didn’t even know if his son needed the headset for the old games, but he wanted everything to be perfect. He went to the bathroom for a second and heard scuffling back in his room. After washing his hands once he was done, strolled back in.
“Hey everything—
“It’s all good, you gonna grab your controller, man?” a man, Mr. Delgado’s age, answered back, gaming already. A man in place of where Mr. Delgado’s son should have been. Oddly enough the young man was in exactly the same outfit, Mr. Delgado had picked out his son that morning. The blue shirt, the hat, even the socks and sneakers. The only difference was the size of the body within them. Even the young man’s face was close to Mauricio’s sans baby fat, and the black undertones of facial hair above his lips. There was one more noticeable thing to that glaring difference: Hairy manspread legs leading to a visible cock print. The underwear was familiar. The cock inside of them? An intruder.
The stranger kept gaming, eyes briefly shifting to Mr. Delgado in the doorway. “Look, you can join or you can blow me if you want, just don’t make me lose this level.”
“What?” Mr. Delgado shook his head.
“Dude, roommates do these things for each other. Don’t make it a whole thing. Remember when I blew you during your Baldur’s Gate 3 Session? Your bros on discord didn’t know what the fuck was going on under that desk.” The young man smirked proudly.
“What are you talking about, where’s Mauricio?” Mr. Delgado asked.
The guy made a face and paused his game. Pulling down the headset, “Are you feeling okay? I’m Mauricio.”
“Not you, I mean my son.” He stated. “Mauricio Delgado.”
“Son?” The guy’s eyebrows went up. “I’m Mauricio Delgado, and I can assure you big bro I’m not your son.” Then with a naughty smirk, he nodded to Luiz’s pants tenting. “Looks like you do remember me.”
“I…I,” Luiz Delgado said nothing else, staring at his cock, aroused for one thing only.
“Well, whenever you figure out, whatever roleplay you’re doing this cock will be here waiting to get drained.” Mauricio Delgado, returned back to his original gaming position.
—
There were stories that would never be told.
Alonso was shit at every job he tried. Factory worker, fast food, even the library. Labor was his enemy since birth; his only real skill was gaming and shirking responsibility. His only real job he could manage was part-time at a tattoo shop. It made sense. He had indulged in getting a few tatts himself and completing them on others gave him the same rush as clearing a level. But he was shocked when his girl dropped her son, Paulie, off for the day. Alonso didn’t want to babysit; he wanted to spend the day gaming. However Clariece was a master word spinner, she had to be to date a man like Alonso. And he begrudgingly accepted as Paulie launched into his house, excited, already claiming the couch where his controller was.
“Thank you.” Clairece put on a sweet voice, before leaning into kiss. He walked her to the stairs then watched her go down the unit’s floor, before returning to his apartment. The moment he stepped back in, there was something off about his place. It looked like there were more things in there than before. Odd.
“Who was that?” A man in his underwear asked Alonso.
“Just your sister checking on you babe.” Alonso closed the door.
He sighed, “I wish she’d stop doing that.”
“Why, it shows she cares, Paul.” Alonso leaned back, drinking in his boyfriend's form. Paul was in nothing but his briefs and socks. Alonso’s cock responded happily. What turned him on the most about Paul, was it the beard? Their mutual love of tattoos? Or his boy’s ripped body. Regardless of the way Paul sat, his cock and ass were open for business.
And though Alonso would never know it, he had once again shirked another job.
—
Some stories the news would talk about endlessly.
Clyde just happened to be one of those unlucky ones. He was doing a gaming stream with friends, only 5 or so people were watching. They were talking about nothing, but then the emulation of the PS2 came up. That brought a spark to the conversation, putting down the shitty graphics and terrible game quality.
The teens joked on, but it was a random chatter who told them to give it a try.
“Yeah sure, why not,” Clyde said with one intention to drag the system through the mud. His friends were still laughing as he purchased it and a random dumb looking gaming, Vexx or some shit.
He started the emulation.
All of his friends watched as his body began to grow. It started with a slight height climb, anything a reasonable person could dismiss. But then his clothes began to stretch and tear, as pecs pushed the seams to their further limits. His shoulder broadened to the width of a man several times his age with arms that could pop actual biceps on a moment's notice. Faint abs made their presence known as his shirt was done away with. It didn’t fall or float to the ground. It was just gone. Clyde’s bare torso was out. And his pants? No one saw those go either; they just saw a growing lump in his underwear poking forward.
Then his face was just…different, youthful one second, sprouting facial hair the next. The round smoothness chiseled down. Favorite hat was still on his head, there was no mistake, all of it was happening in real time. As his face finally came together, his large cock exploded as he came hard. Multiple shots that soaked his brief until they were see-though. Eventually his cock would fall limp but still have its grandiosity on display.
He became the first example to many of seeing what the Vintage release had done for the population. Saved online in high definition for people to see until they got tired of it.
—
As for people like Roy Madden, their stories were less public, but no less shocking.
He had gone to the bathroom, while his younger cousin, Logan, watched the download. They were having an impromptu sleepover to celebrate the release. Roy was being nosey going through his aunt and uncle’s medicine cabinet, which is why he got back to the room late.
If Roy had bothered to even once turn on the news, he’d have seen the story, and therefore not have been shocked when he found an all-American jock had replaced Logan. Like any self-respecting gay community college freshman, all he saw first was the stacked body. Cannonball shoulders, supporting bulked arms and also juicy pecs. Then there was Roy’s controller, which now sat on the stranger’s massive cock. The face, no matter how square or defined by its new jockish nature, made it obvious who was at the helm. Logan sat, taking up the entire width of the couch, with legs twice as long and wide.
He didn’t say anything, but the look and position were obvious. He wanted Roy to come grab the controller and play with a new joystick.
—
This just in! A clip of someone minutes after their transformation:
"Yo, hottie." A masculine voice called out to Jake from behind.
When Jake turned around, he was barely able to comprehend who they were before they grabbed his crotch and gave it a hefty squeeze.
"Aye, what the fuck?!" He yelled out.
"DAMN, didn't know you packing this meat in between those legs, bro."
"Hell nah, I don't swing that way, bro. Get the hell away from me-uuuugggGGHHHHHH" The helmeted stranger began to fondle Jake's nuts, a shockwave of pleasure rippled throughout Jake's body as he moaned, his head feeling like it was stuffed with cotton as all forms of thought seized working.
Jakes biceps inflated, growing big, strong and burly as pounds of dense muscle was packed into them. His flat stomach pushed out to form solid washboard abs, and his legs and ass grew thick and fat from riding a motorcycle with his mates.
The stranger kept squeezing and tickling Jake's nuts, as his sexuality went from straight to gay. His objectifying thoughts about woman shifted to objectifying hot biker boys like himself.
"Fuck man... you use those hands to jerk off?" Jake snickered.
"All the time brah." The man chuckled. "Name's Derek, by the way."
Another biker boy pulled up in a green ninja bike, his frame thin and lanky except for his glutes; which were bouncy and round. Jake looked him in the eye and hollered:
"Oh I just KNOW your asshole is loose, slut."
Jake, Derek and the Biker Boy all laughed, each of their members rock hard as they stared at each other. Derek squeezed Jake's nuts hard and laughed:
"My mate over here's got something nice you can sit on, shrimp." He squeezes Jakes balls even harder to emphasize.
Without a word, the Biker Boy yanked his pants off and placed his naked ass and Jake's throbbing member and began to bounce. Derek still continued playing with Jake's inflated sacs as the Biker Boy sluttily bounced and moaned like a whore in heat.
"FUCK, I was wrong, your ass is TIGHT, brah!" Jake moaned, climax within sight. And as he was finally able to grasp it. Derek squeezed Jake's nuts harder than he ever had before. The last of the straight womanizer was expelled in the form of sperm, all the remained was the Man-Izer Jake. Who loved to catcall his fellow biker boys and grope them as a "joke."
When all was said and done, the Biker Boy pulled his pants up, covering his cum-filled ass and drove away as Jake called out:
"Come around here again and I'll bring my homies to spitroast ya!"
Jake sat on his motorcycle at the gas station, refilling it when he saw another biker boy. He was so hot and irresistible that he just had to go over, smack his ass and yell out:
"DAMN, THAT'S A FAT ASS, BRO!"
Note: This is my first story decided via polls. I hope to do more in the future. : )
Dude I’ve always loved the early 2000’s full head bane mask. I’d love to find one with the thick green tubes and become a huge musky muscular monster like bane. Maybe even with a huge venom boosted dong!
You wanna get BIG? Of course you do. You wanted a BANE mask, after all. One Bane Mask coming right up.
Ignore the little green tubes and wires, they'll make themselves useful to you soon enough.
Well? Put it on!
When he put that mask on, it felt comfortable. It was a perfect fit. But that thought was soon dashed as it suddenly tightened itself around his head, like a parasite latching onto to it's host. He groaned and grunted animalistically as he grapped at the suffocating mask in a futile attempt to yank it off his head, but to no avail.
His muscles ached, his sweat coming in buckets and his heart racing. In the struggle, he made the mistake of stomping with both feet on the floor, when he did, a sharp, indescribable feeling shot up from his feet to the crux of his head. He couldn't moved, he was locked in place.
He could feel the green cords of the mask attach to... something on his back. Pumping some sort of strange fluid into him.
His feet began to stretch and widen bursting out of his shoes, his toes becoming wide and meaty and his plantars becoming thick and calloused. His legs were next, pounds upon pounds of thick, solid muscle were packed into them, making them resemble tree trunks with how thick, dense and meaty they were.
And his ass? Oh god, his ass. Two massive mountainous globes of flesh pushed out and filling the seat of his now black pants til they were at their breaking point.
His upper body was next. His pecs pushed out, forming a massive meaty shelf with two sharp nipples poking through his shirt. His flat stomach smoothed out, then hardened. Forming a massive six pack.
His shoulders stretched and widened, making his frame much MUCH wider and thicker, he groaned and wailed with want and desire.
And his arms... oh god his arms. They were fucking insane. Biceps as big as cannonballs that were ideal for flexing.
His voice grew deep and thick as he growled hungrily like an animal.
The fluid being pumped into his body started to reach his brain, making it cloudy and foggy and dulling all thoughts. He groaned lazily as a sudden wave of arousal washed over him. He glanced at his cock and saw it grow and thicken in his pants. Becoming thicker, wider and longer. He gripped it with his meaty hand and began to stroke.
He loudly groaned as he suddenly bent over, his mammoth cheeks were on full display as he began to jerk himself off.
Each stroke altered his brain. His iq dropped sharply as he was getting dumber and dumber, his soft and boring personality was being replaced with a much more brutal, dominating presence who's only desire was to get stronger and crush his opponents with his strength.
His growled like an animal as his strokes got more violent and rushed. His balls inflated and grew, becoming thick and massive. Ideal for storing vast amounts of his sperm.
Veins popped and rapidly appeared all throughout his body, veins filled with this foreign fluid, veins that would becoming more noticable when he was angry or enraged, which be very frequent.
When he came, it was like a switch being flipped, he flung his arms into the air and roared loudly as his thick monster sprayed sperm infront of him for a full minute. The rest of his old self being flushed out in the form of thick ball batter. When it was all said and done he flexed once more and roared out:
Yes, I’ve always been this handsome. I think you’re just going crazy. I didn’t have an awkward phase, when puberty hit, I never got a single pimple, a single imperfection in my skin. My bone structure is just that good. Basically all of the girls in school had a crush on me, and some of the guys too. It’s hard to ignore such a pretty face.
I’ve always been this big too. Ever since puberty hit, I’ve just been growing nonstop, my biceps are the size of footballs and my pecs are so big I can’t even see my abs that well, and I didn’t even have to hit the gym that much for it. My doctor said it’s some sort of genetic thing. That genetic thing also makes my dick huge for some reason, go figure.
It’s also totally normal that everyone is irresistibly attracted to me. Can’t blame them, it’s their primal instinct upon seeing such a genetically blessed man. Some of the guys don’t even try to fight it too, they just let their girls go have some fun with me, then I bring them home after. The ones who don’t? I usually beat them up, or maybe just offer to fuck them after too or let them suck on my hog, that usually sweetens the deal for them.
It’s also normal for you to be hard right now, and even more normal to be wanting to suck my dick. Still think all of this is wrong? No? Well, good thing you’ve come back to your senses. As a treat, I’ll give you the carrot now. Yeah, suck it fuckin’ goooooood. Who’s the fuckin’ cock sucker now huh? You are, fuckin’ bitch. Just keep on milking me, since this is all sooo fucking normal.
Muscle Bros @musclebrosstuff - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
