Each level more muscle, less thoughts, more cock. He’s only on level 3.
Three Goblin Art
noise dept.
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

JVL
No title available
Today's Document
RMH

Kaledo Art

shark vs the universe
One Nice Bug Per Day

oozey mess

titsay
Monterey Bay Aquarium

izzy's playlists!

Product Placement
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
taylor price
No title available

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Malaysia

seen from Brazil

seen from Spain

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Germany
seen from United States
@musclejock
Each level more muscle, less thoughts, more cock. He’s only on level 3.
What was I doing? I was just about to do something before my roommate slapped that cap on me
Err huh wasn’t I about to go study? – But that can’t be right. I can’t go out like this. I’m shirtless aren’t I? Too embarrassing
Maybe I was going to take off my glasses… But… – no that’s a weird idea, I don’t even wear glasses to begin with.
Strange but maybe I was thinking of growing taller – Ha but that’s silly. How could I even do that? Besides I am already a good 6′1.
Huh… but my twiggy frame. Was it that I was about to bulk up? Work on those arms maybe…? – But I have some good upper and forearm definition already … and those veins starting to run down my biceps…
Had to be my shoulders or back then – Wrong wrong. My shoulders are alrieady wide and I have some decent traps and flarring lats
Chest? – Nah not that either. My pecs are already swelling up really nicely- not to mention my sensitive round nipples and those abs…
Yeah come to think of it, with this body… I was probably just about to become more confident, be a little cocky even. – Ughh but no way. I’m so fucking hot, I cant get enough of myself. Who could resist? With these muscles and dreamy face, I’m one hot smart sexy fucker…
So maybe I was about to dumb down? Like really forget all that school crap and like totally lighten up. Be some dumb ass jock muscle head. Huhuhu. – But like already so dum huhu. Hot dum bro yeah huhu
Nah like it had to just be that I’m gettin so fuckin hot and horny and… yeah always so fuckin horny… and… mmmm… was gonna grow a thick massive cock. – Uhhh but fuUUcK… so horned up all the time. And my cock, yeah my fucking fuck rod, I’m fingering that piece of meat in my shorts, its so fucking big. Like its always stiff and massive just thinking about my next fuck-
Fuck- that’s it! Huhuhu yeah, I’m so fucking dum, its my fucking cap. I gotta turn that thing around duh. Like get my hot pumped bod naked and cap on backwards, thats the way my bro likes to fuck. And my roomie, he’s already fucking waiting
Alright. I’ve seen a lot of requests about turning cocky guys into twinks — totally fair. But I’d like to ask for the opposite, or almost that.
My favorite stories of yours are the ones where some poor guy is in the wrong place at the wrong time and ends up becoming a cocky bastard (Gridirion Brew, Make Sense, Gone Fishing).
So how about a story about a needy twink looking for a cocky, dominant top… and a poor, recently engaged guy — studious, respectfull, devoted to his beautiful fiancée, — who crosses paths with the wrong person at the wrong time.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, buddy,” Adam slowly shut the door to his best man's room. “Drink some water before you pass out this time.”
“Yeah, yeah,” somebody groaned from inside. “You’re about to be someone’s husband and still sound like my mom.”
Adam shook his head, smiling as he headed toward the elevators. His bachelor party had turned into exactly what he expected: too much drinking, too much yelling, and the people he loved most acting like complete idiots together... He’d loved every second of it.
“Wouldn’t trade those idiots for anything,” Adam muttered as he stepped into the elevator, scrolling through reels Claire had sent him.
The doors had barely started closing before hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway.
“Wait! Hold it!”
“Got you.” Adam stuck his arm out automatically.
“Oh, thank god,” the stranger breathed, his eyes lighting up the moment he saw Adam. “You seriously just saved my evening. I was starting to think I’d have to go upstairs alone.”
Adam laughed awkwardly, “I think you might’ve misunderstood something, I’m not looking for…”
“Shhhhh.” The guy stepped closer. “That’s okay. You’re gonna make me feel really fucking good tonight, stud.”
Adam blinked. “What?”
“Name's Nico,” he said lazily. “Don’t ruin this for me.”
Before Adam could answer, Nico leaned forward and kissed him. Adam's hands came up to shove him away, but he froze.
“I… sorry, I think you got the wrong...”
Then Adam looked at him again, words catching in his throat. His eyes dropped to Nico’s ass in those tight black jeans.
"You like?"
“Oh...” Adam swallowed hard. “No, I... I shouldn’t…” His thoughts raced. “I’m not into guys. I’m getting married…”
“Mhm.” Nico stepped closer again. “Go ahead, baby.”
“Oh fuck…” Adam panted suddenly as his hand grabbed a fistful of Nico’s ass.
Nico smiled instantly. “There you go.”
Nico's hands slipped beneath Adam’s shirt, cool palms dragging over his stomach and chest before squeezing a growing pec. Adam’s breath caught instantly, the kiss turning rougher before he even realized it.
“Mmm… fuck,” Nico sighed against his mouth.
Adam groaned, fingers kneading the firm curve of Nico’s ass, while rough stubble grew along his jaw with every slow squeeze.
“You’re really into this now.”
“No… Nico, I can’t…” Adam broke away, face flushed, hands still on Nico's ass. “Jesus Christ… I’m getting married…”
“Shhhh.” Nico smirked, sliding his hands up Adam's shirt and through the hair spreading across his chest, “Oh my god,” Nico breathed. “You feel so fucking good already.”
“Fuck…” Adam gripped his ass harder as nails scratched down his back. “I need dis…” The words hit his ears wrong. “No… what de hell...?”
"Follow me, big guy."
And he did. The second the elevator doors opened, Adam followed. Right to Nico's room. The guilt twisted hard through his stomach.
“Claire...” Adam shuddered. “Can never know... about dis… fuck… she can’t…”
"Oh she never will." Nico giggled and pulled Adam into his hotel room.
Clothes were quickly discarded and Adam groaned as Nico's smooth bare skin pressed against his increasingly bulkier, hairier, and sweatier form.
“Fuck…” Nico’s hands slid over the thickening muscle in Adam’s arms, “I needed a man like you tonight.” He buried his face against Adam’s increasingly hairier pit and inhaled. “Mmm… you smell incredible.”
With a grunt, he shoved Nico against a wall, hand wrapping around his bare ass. Warm skin flexed beneath his palm, impossibly soft without the denim in the way... smooth, firm, and perfect in a way Adam had never thought about another man's ass before.
“Oh fuck…” Adam groaned shakily against Nico’s throat. “Ya Allah… you're drivin' me crazy…”
Nico smiled lazily while grinding up against him. “Mmm. Been thinking about you fucking me since the elevator…”
The words hit Adam hard and Claire’s face flashed through his mind again... Unaware her fiancé was naked in a hotel room with another man. The guilt swelled, but Adam still shoved Nico onto the mattress.
“Yeah…” Adam breathed heavily. “You... like dis? You want dis?" Adam climbed over him, their eyes locking as dark brown rings spread slowly through Adam’s blue irises.
“Fuck…” Nico's hands slid across Adam’s sweaty, hairier pecs, “That’s it… come here, big guy…”
Nico shifted and rolled onto his front, raising his bare ass against Adam's throbbing cock. Adam’s breathing turned ragged, stomach twisting hard. He wasn't this kind of man... He was Claire's dependable fiancé. Her best friend. Her future husband... Not the man currently grinding his cheating cock against another man’s ass.
“Fuck…” Adam tightened his grip on Nico’s hips. “Dis isn’t me… 'uqsim, hadha lays 'ana." Adam froze... that language... he didn't...
"Huh? Wh... fuck... Wh-what did you say?" Nico smirked and looked over his shoulder, "Oh fuck..."
Adam felt it before he saw it. His cock throbbed and grew to a size beyond anything Adam ever possessed. His cock head emerging from a sheath of foreskin he knew shouldn't be there.
"Dere is no way..." He whispered, "It's so..." He moaned as he grew another inch, cock now pressing against Nico's tight entrance.
"Please... I need it." Nico begged, "It's all I need tonight."
Adam gasped suddenly as his pecs filled with muscle. And as they did, his new chest hairs suddenly curled longer and darkened toward black against his heavier muscle.
“Fuck…” Claire used to fall asleep with her head against his lean chest. But these heavier pecs were damp with sweat and dark curling hair now, nothing like the body she loved. “Ya Allah… look at dis… it just keeps gettin’ thicker…”
“Mmm…” Nico moaned, glancing back at him.
“Oh fuck… what’s dat smell?” Adam grimaced.
“That's… you big guy."
“Mustaheel…” Adam muttered, lifting an arm and grimacing at the thick musk clinging to his sweat-soaked, matted pit hair, “Y-you like dis…?”
"Fuck… yeah. Smell like a real man… mmm, so fucking hot…" Nico whimpered.
Adam shuddered hard at the words. Claire used to steal his hoodies because they smelled clean and comforting. She would’ve recoiled from this heavy masculine musk pouring off him now.
"You're perfect..." Nico groaned, pressing his ass against Adam's erection, "Just... fuck me already."
“Wallah…” Adam nearly obliged, but Claire’s smile flashed suddenly through his mind, "What de fuck is wrong wit me?”
He dragged a shaking hand through his hair, catching on something unfamiliar along his cheek. He touched his jaw again instinctively and recoiled. Stubble. Thick, perfect stubble. He'd always joke about never being able to grow a real beard. Claire always told him she loved his clean-shaven look.
"How de fuck....?" He watched as dark hair thickened across swelling forearms and olive blotches crept slowly over pale skin, "Wallah?"
The mirror caught him briefly and he froze. Damp blond hair darkened toward black while brown swallowed the blue in his eyes. Those eyes Claire adored. The hair she loved threading through her fingers.
"I... I want you inside me..." Nico moaned, "J-just..."
Adam looked down and back to the mirror. The man staring back at him still carried traces of Adam in places, but not enough. Not enough for his friends or best man to recognize him. Barely enough for Claire. Even his own mother would hesitate… And panic rose in his chest. He just wanted to go back downstairs, back to his friends, back to the man Claire loved, back to being Adam again. Because right now, Adam didn’t feel like Adam anymore.
He grunted suddenly before he could even process that thought. His cock leaked as a low groan vibrated deep through his chest before he could stop it.
“Ya Allah…” His rough hands spread Nico’s ass cheeks. “You’re gonna take all dis for me, yeah?” The words hadn’t felt chosen. Neither had the smug grin slowly pulling across his face while his heavier body settled more naturally over Nico.
“Mmm… there you are...” Nico whispered softly, sounding relieved.
He couldn't hold back any longer. With a guttural growl, he buried his cock deep into Nico's ass. The twink let out a choked cry, back arching sharply as he was impaled.
Thrust.
Dense muscle any gym bro would be proud of settled over him in all the right places. Stronger hands pinned Nico down instinctively while his pace roughened.
“Fuck… ya Allah…” He stared down at himself breathlessly. “Bro… look at dese… fuck… Havin’ a body like dis feels so fuckin' good…”
“Mmm… trust me...” Nico whimpered. “Feels even better underneath you.”
Thrust.
Warm olive swallowed the last pale traces across his skin while heavy musk and cheap cologne clung permanently to his body.
“Mmm… such a slut... for my scent.” He grunted.
“Fuck…” Nico whimpered. “I wanna bury my face in your pits so bad…”
Thrust.
The last traces of his old facial features disappeared forever behind the thick beard, dark brown eyes, and a permanent cocky grin devoid of his usual warmth.
“Mmm… dat’s right,” He smirked when Nico stared up at him breathlessly. “Keep lookin’ at me like dat while I fuck you…”
Thrust.
“Wh-what’s your name, big guy…?”
“Kareem,” he answered immediately.
“Mhmm… that name...is... always popular…”
“Den scream it for me."
Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.
Kareem slapped Nico's jiggling ass, “Mmm… dat’s right, habibi… take it,” he groaned smugly, "Fuck... Dis hole was... made for my... fat Arab cock... wasn't it?"
Thrust, thrust, thrust, thrust...
Kareem grunted, pace quickening. The engagement ring felt uncomfortable around his swollen finger, so he instinctively pulled it off and tossed it somewhere in the room.
“Mmm… fuckin' slut…” Kareem groaned, "Ya Allah… look at dis… all dis fuckin’ muscle… you fuckin' love it.” He slowed down, "You want me to finish?" He teased, "Want Kareem to fill you?"
"Pl-please..." Nico moaned into the mattress, "Kareem... oh fuck!"
"Ya Allah… you needed dis dick so bad.” Hands squeezing Nico’s hip harder. “Slut gets one real Arab guy smellin’ like dis on top of him and forgets his own name…”
"Kareem!" Nico moaned, "Kar... Kareem... oh fuck... please..."
Kareem buried himself deep inside Nico's ass, followed by a guttural roar as his cock erupted, flooding Nico's insides with thick, hot seed.
"Take it all, bitch... fuckin' take it!" he growled, his body shuddering with the force of his climax.
As the last pulses subsided, Kareem collapsed forward, his sweaty chest pressing against Nico. His softening cock still inside Nico. And Kareem's eyes closed.
-------------------
He woke slowly beneath tangled sheets, groaning as dense muscle shifted across his chest and arms. He scratched at the dark hair on his chest, his nose twitching at the scent of sweat, cologne... of him. For a few moments, he stared at his body, processing the sight.
“Ya Allah…” Kareem smirked to himself, “Dat twink ain’t ever recoverin’ from me…”
“Oh, you’re awake.” Nico glanced up from his phone. “Yeah... you're one of my best works yet...”
“What da fuck does dat mean?”
“Nothing.” Nico shrugged casually. “Anyway, you should leave... like now.” The words landed and the larger man froze.
Kareem blinked, sitting up slowly. “W-wait…” Uncertainty cracked faintly through the swagger for the first time. “Where do I go? What should I...?”
“Always the same questions.” Nico smirked, unable to recall the number of times he'd heard them, “I dunno. There’s a gym down the street? Download Grindr? Yeah... You’re hot. Someone’ll take you in.”
“Dat’s it?”
“I don’t really care.”
------------
Kareem stared in the mirror of a public restroom, wresting with the sense that he was supposed to be somewhere else doing something important. But without a phone, wallet, or anything else, he was lost.
But then he caught him. Some twink washing his hands, staring at him. And Kareem knew that look. The lust... A cocky grin spread across Kareem’s face.
“Mmm… you keep lookin’ at me like dat, I’m gonna start thinkin’ you want somethin’.”
The guy flushed immediately. “S-sorry, I just…”
Kareem smiled lazily. Cute. Nervous. Kareem would have him wrapped around his finger easily.
“Mmm… yeah. You’ll do just fine for now, habibi. You got a place nearby or what?”
Hey there. I've been teaching my introduction to theatre class for about 10 years now, however this semester has to be the worst. They've stuck me with the absolute worst group of students. Listen, I love being able to teach students and help them better connect to the wonders of performing, but this Gen Ed class of freshman couldn't care less. It's full of straight jocks, guys who think they'll get famous on TikTok, exchange students from the middle east and a bunch of stuck up religious homophobic nepo babies who write slurs on the chalkboard. I can't stand it. I'm ready to quit. But this Friday, I found a box of chocolate on my desk with a typed note saying that it was time I learned a lesson. I have no idea which one of these assholes gave it to me and I'm sure they are laced with something but I can't help but want to try one of the chocolates....
You knew you should just throw it away. Put the small box of stupid chocolates in the nearest garbage and forget about it. The box itself looked like it was handcrafted with cardboard and tape. The chocolates inside? Probably made in one of your student's kitchens. Sloppy, made hastily- being homemade alone didn't make something good. As a teacher, you did get gifts on occasion. But in all of your years of teaching, this one was certainly the absolute worst.
"Alright, alright." You mutter, "I'm a teacher, not a food critic."
You relent and grab one of the small truffles, inspecting it closely. It was obviously coated in milk chocolate, a few red, white, and blue sprinkles garnished the top.
"CJ." You think, "Yeah, bet it was him."
Loud, obnoxious, patriotic- the ultimate stupid all-American jock who probably spent the same amount of time drinking beers as he did in the gym. With a sigh, you plop the truffle into your mouth and start to chew. You taste the milk chocolate and get a few notes of peanuts and apple pie. Not the worst thing you've ever eaten, but definitely not...
"Oh fuck..." You grunt and catch yourself on the nearest table, "Oh fuck it hurts." You grab your stomach and wince, "Wh...?"
Your eyes widen as you watch your dress shirt start to shred into pieces, unveiling more and more of your average frame. You let out another yelp as your dress pants start to come undone, leaving you in nothing but your underwear.
"What the fuck?" You grunt as the room begins to spin around you.
The humble walls of your classroom give way to a raucous tailgate. The smell of brats, burgers, and beers fill your nose. The sound of boisterous laughter, cheering, and shit talk fill your ears. But as you stumble in confusion amidst the new setting, you gasp as you look down at your hand.
"Brody, bro!" One of the jocks yells out, "You good man?"
You watch in terror as your hand thickens and becomes calloused from all those lifting sessions with your bros at the gym. You watch as the muscle expands rapidly in your forearms, before your biceps explode with it. Your triceps aren't spared either as your previous twigs-for-arms thicken from all the lifting, creatine, and protein powder you've been using. But you quickly found out your arms were just the start. The air was knocked out of you as your pecs swelled rapidly, back cracking and widening. You stumble, still trying to get used to your increasing bulk.
"Woah, bro..." You mutter, giving your swollen pecs a squeeze, "All right..." You shake your head, "No... no what am I saying?" You can feel a weed sprouting in your head- another voice, another being.
"Yeah this is the shit." It says using your mouth, "Grow baby, grow."
You laugh, deep and dumb. And as you do, your gut packs on more weight and muscle, pushing out with the firmness of extra bulk. Your abs covered by a soft layer of fat brought to you by all the late night snacking and beers you've downed with your bros.
"Check this, bros." Your voice is slower, dumber, and clearly tipsy from the alcohol. But you don't have time to consider that as you let out a massive fart, "Bro! You hear that? Fuckin' legend, dude!"
You grunt as your ass beefs up, swelling with muscle and fat. Jiggling with each step you take. Your thighs and legs bulk up, as your feet crack and expand into wide, size 15" monsters.
"Alright bros!" Brody says, pumping his fists, "Let's fuckin' go!"
You can't do much as Brody has the best fucking time of his life. You do a keg stand, make-out with some blond cheerleader, wrestle with your bros, and bounce your muscle tits while your dick chubs up. To Brody, its the fucking life. But to you- trapped in this smelly, brutish frat bro- you're in hell. Was this the lesson? Was this what your asshole students wanted to teach you? To...
"Yo what're those?" Brody drunkenly makes his way over to a small box of chocolates, "Don't mind if I do." He guffaws and grabs one.
He plops it into his mouth and you can taste it. Cardamom, cinnamon, and dates. Brody wrinkles his nose as he chews it.
"The fuck kinda flavor is that?" But he doesn't have much time to think more on it as the world around him starts to spin, "Oh fuck, too many beers..."
You can feel it too. The world spinning. Its disorienting, terrifying. And you can feel a burning and itching sensation across your chest. You watch in horror as a patch of coarse black hair sprouts from Brody's chest, spreading rapidly like wildfire. It itches intensely as it grows thicker and longer, soon covering his entire torso in a dark pelt. Brody lets out a grunt, rubbing his hands over his new fur.
"Wh-what's going on, bro? I'm so fuckin' hairy."
Meanwhile, the burning sensation spreads to your face. Black stubble erupts on your jawline, quickly forming a thick, unkempt beard. Your once fair skin blotches with an olive tint.
"Dude, I'm American. Why do I look… fuck…"
Every inch of your skin is now olive tinted. There's a grunt as you pack on a little more extra weight and muscle to your previous jock-bro frame. A wave of vertigo hits you hard as reality warps and shifts yet again. The tailgate scene dissolves into a sleek sports car interior. This new man grips the steering wheel tightly, weaving through traffic at dangerous speeds. His bulks grows more, as do his muscles.
"Yallah, move it bitch!" he yells, honking aggressively at a minivan.
"Samir, chill bro." The other Arab man in the passenger seat says.
"Chill? We got places to be, yaar." Samir replies, revving the engine.
You can only watch as this new version of you pulls up to a hookah bar. And as Samir enters, you can smell it too- the air is thick with fragrant smoke and the sound of Arabic music pulses through the speakers. Samir struts in confidently, his broad shoulders, hairy chest, and musculature on full display.
"Marhaba, habibi," he greets the hostess, flashing her a charming smile. She giggles and leads them to a plush booth in the back.
As they settle in, Samir leans back and lights up a large hookah pipe. His arms stretched behind his head. The smell of his musky pits invading your sense.
"Ahhh, perfect," he sighs contentedly. He takes a long drag, holding the sweet smoke in his lungs before exhaling slowly. His friend nods in agreement. "This is the life, yaar. No worries, just good times with the boys."
And as Samir takes another drag, you can feel your mind swimming. The smell of hookah, the laughter, the pride in your middle-eastern heritage. It hurts your head as your identities mix. Teacher? Frat bro? Prideful Arab man? Who are you? What are...
"I... Please, I want this to..."
"Yo who're you?" You freeze. Brody was still here. In your head. Talking to you, "Brah, this whole shits fucked. I got a party to get back to."
You find yourself nodding slowly, "Yeah... a party..." Makes sense, right? You should be partying... at the tailgate... But... you're a teacher, you're a...
Samir takes another long drag from the hookah, blowing the smoke out slowly. "These Americans, they don't know how to live," he says, shaking his head, "Americans, they're weak. Greedy and self indulgent. But us? We're real men, yaar. Strong, proud." He takes another drag, "Inshallah, may Allah bless us with more days like this."
And as the hookah invades his lungs, you too feel it invade your mind. The smell, the camaraderie. The sight of your olive skin, the scraggliness of your beard. And as your buddies pat Samir on the back, you feel like you're part of something more. Something greater.
"Feels nice." You think, "This... this is living... how it should be..."
And as your mind swims with your newfound appreciation for Samir's culture, Samir's attention is captured by a box of chocolates. He smirks and grabs one of the truffles plopping it into his mouth. And almost immediately you can taste it. The bourbon. The hint of vanilla. Maybe even some lavender.
"Wha-" he starts to say, but the words dissolve on his tongue.
You can feel it again. The world spinning around you. Faster and faster. And with it comes the changes. You can feel the heftiness around your midsection starts to dissolve, while the abs underneath are molded perfectly, leaving you with an impressive six-pack. You can hear Samir yelp as his pecs start to puff out further with dense muscle, the hairs starting to dissolve away, leaving behind clean shaven, smooth skin.
"Ugh so pathetic." He groans, running his increasingly meatier hand against his smooth skin, "What is this?"
His skin suddenly begins to lighten once again. His dark eyes become blue, and narrow as a new attitude starts to swell up in your increasingly more crowded mental space.
"This is disgusting."
"Brah, check these muscles."
Your head is spinning with all these different voices. Your body aches as the bulk continues, giving you the body of a greek adonis. Arms swollen, chest solid, abs proudly displayed. The hookah bar finally vanishes, replaced by the glittering expanse of a private pool. Sunlight glints off the water. And you find yourself coming up for air, water falling from your brunette, styled hair.
A girl in a skimpy bikini approaches, carrying a tray of drinks. "Here you go, Mr. Westley," she says, batting her eyelashes flirtatiously. This new man takes a drink without even looking at her, already bored. Just another servant. Just another pretty face.
"Get me another one while you're at it." He calls out. He watches her walk away, smirking as he stares at her ass.
He takes a swig of the martini and sighs. Everything looks so bright and crisp. Like the world had been put through a filter. The sky is bluer, the grass greener. Even the water sparkles. And his physique? Toned, tanned, and dripping wet. Perfect. Absolutely perfect.
"Yeah... I can... I can get used to this..." You mumble as if in a trance.
"Same brah." Brody joins in.
"Fuck that." Samir lashes out, "Spoiled white boy."
The new man exits the pool, tousling his hair, and finding the nearest lounge chair. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, basking in the sun.
"Chad?" He turns towards a man in business attire, "Your father would like a word."
"Tell dear old dad I'm busy." Chad replied dismissively, "And while you're at it, find the groundskeeper and tell him to get this place cleaned up, its a fucking disgrace."
"But sir, your father..."
"You fuckin' deaf or something?" Chad stands up, towering over the man, "I'm. Busy."
The servant scurries away, while Chad just flashes his signature, entitled smirk. And as he gets back to lounging, you feel disgust welling up inside you. This guy was an asshole. A totally self-obsessed douchebag. Even Brody seemed to quiet down, while Samir went on ranting about spoiled Americans.
"I just want to go back." You feel so lost, so hopeless, "I don't want to be this... I want to be me..."
But you're trapped. Trapped in your own mind with Brody and Samir. Trapped and forced to feel everything Chad did. Watch as Chad sends some shirtless selfies to a few blond bimbos. Made plans with an older married woman down the street to meet up when her husband leaves for the day. He messages his friends about using his father's private jet to travel to Tahoe for the weekend.
"Get what I want, when I want." He stretches his arms behind his head and sighs, basking in the sunlight reflecting off his greek god physique.
And that's when you feel it. The power. The musculature of his body. Each flex of his bicep. His massive pecs. You understand now. Understand just how easy his confidence comes to him. Understand why he deserves it. And it felt... good. Yeah... It felt real good. But as you got drunk on everything that was Chad, you were interrupted.
"Chad!" Chad's eyes widen as his father walks over- a man of similar build, height, but older, "You lazy piece of crap!"
"Dad, what... what're you talking about?"
His father's eyes narrow, "I told you before." He points at him, "You want to live like this? You want to use my money for trips to Europe, fuck any bimbo that moves, and lounge around." He frowns, "Then you got to get a degree. An education. Prove you can take over the family business."
"You can't be fucking..."
"Oh I am."
You can feel the anger boiling up in Chad's body. A degree? Having to go to school? With what? A bunch of stupid, poor, ugly freaks that have to work a 9-5 to experience just 1/1000 of Chad's lifestyle.
"That's... not fair." You whisper, as your mind is overwhelmed by Chad's emotions.
Chad stands up, eyes narrowed and pushes past his father. The older man couldn't be serious. Couldn't really be thinking of making him go to college. He stormed past a servant, who simply smiled.
"Would you like a chocolate?"
Chad freezes, "Yeah, sure, why the fuck not?" And plops it into his mouth.
The world around you shifts once more as the flavors of the chocolate hit your tongue - artificial sweetness, fruity candy, and a hint of energy drink. You can feel your muscles beginning to shrink and change, the bulk melting away.
"Whoa, what's happening to me?" Chad's voice whines.
The opulent halls of the mansion are closing in, shifting into that of a studio apartment. Clothes and empty energy drink cans litter the floor. The air smells stale and musty. You glance down at your changing body - the muscles thinning out, becoming leaner and more defined rather than bulky. Body hair recedes until your skin is smooth and hairless. Your face feels tight as it reshapes itself, cheekbones becoming more pronounced, jawline sharpening into an angular cuteness. Curly locks sprout from your head, styled in a trendy, slightly messy fashion. Your beard starts to fall away, leaving you clean-shaven.
This new form - young, attractive, and youthfully energetic - bounds over to the bed. Sitting cross-legged, and pulls out his phone. The lock screen displays a grid of selfies and short video clips, all carefully curated to showcase his best angles and moments.
"Okay, gotta up my game," He mutters, scrolling through TikTok trends. "More followers mean more clout, and clout means everything."
He spends hours creating and posting videos - dance challenges, skits, pranks, and thirst traps. Each upload is meticulously planned and executed to maximize engagement. Between posts, he constantly refreshes his feed, comparing likes and views to his peers.
"This is exhausting," the old you whispers weakly in the back of your mind. But the new you barely registers the complaint, too focused on growing your online presence.
"Hey there! Zac here!" He starts.
You watch helplessly as this new version of you, Zac, throws himself into the world of social media with reckless abandon. Hours blur together as he creates and posts video after video, thirst trap after thirst trap, desperate for that sweet validation of likes and comments.
"Ugh, this sucks," Zac grunts in frustration, deleting yet another failed attempt at a viral dance challenge. "Why isn't this working? I'm hot, I'm funny, I should be blowing up by now!"
The other voices in your head stir.
"Forget this noise, brah. Let's hit the gym, get jacked!" Brody chimes in enthusiastically.
"No way, man. This social media crap is beneath us." Samir scoffs, his accent thick with disdain.
"He's so fucking desperate." Chad chimes in, "He's never going to amount to shit. Just wishes he could have a sliver of what I got."
The voices swim in your head. Painfully. Overwhelmingly. You just want it to stop. Just want them to leave you be. To let you go back to... to what? You're realizing with increasing terror that you're having a hard time remembering just who you were. Someone in education? A teacher? Right? Or were you...
"Pl-please... just... stop." But your voice is crowded out by these other selves, all bickering internally.
"Fuck it," Zac mutters, tossing his phone aside in frustration. He flops back onto the unmade bed, surrounded by the musky scent of sweat-stained sheets and stale air. With a heavy sigh, he reaches for his phone again, navigating to his preferred porn site with practiced ease.
"Just need to blow off some steam," he mumbles, stroking himself through his thin sweatpants as the first video loads. The lewd sounds of moaning and flesh slapping against flesh fill the small room.
Zac's breathing quickens as he loses himself in porn, his toned muscles relaxing under his touch. The stench of his own arousal mingles with the aroma of the slovenly apartment. Sweat beads on his smooth, hairless chest as he pleasures himself. The sensations wash over you too, drowning out the cacophony of voices in your head. Your mind starts to feel hazy, thoughts growing sluggish and scattered. The world narrows down to the intense physical pleasure radiating from your core.
"Hnnngh… feels so good…" you groan, as rational thought slips away, replaced by base instinct and desire.
Brody, Samir, and Chad's voices fade to distant murmurs, easily ignored as you lose yourself in Zac's pleasure. All that matters is chasing this peak of ecstasy.
"F-fuck yeah… gonna cum so hard…"
And in that moment… you're just Zac. Obsessed with social media. Obsessed with the latest trend. Obsessed with views and likes and getting famous. And when you're not chasing fame, you're jerking off. Endlessly. In your musky apartment. And it feels good. No worries. No cares. No more voices. Yeah… Zac… you're Zac… it makes sense… it…
You blink, disoriented as the familiar sight of your classroom comes into focus. The musky stench and lewd sounds vanish, replaced by the sterile scent of chalk dust and the dull murmur of students. Your body feels foreign, like it belongs to someone else entirely.
"W-what… what happened?" you stammer, gripping the edge of your desk for support. The lingering echoes of Zac's obsession and pleasure slowly fade, but the memory of inhabiting that shallow, hedonistic existence lingers.
Around you, your students smile. The straight-laced jocks, the fame-hungry TikTokers, the entitled rich kids, and the cultural exchange students. They're staring at you.
"Learn your lesson, bro?"
"No, please! Leave me alone!" you cry out, clutching your head as the voices of Samir, Brody, Chad, and Zac continue to echo and taunt you. "I don't want to be any of you! I just want to be myself again!"
But even as you beg, you can feel the changes starting to take hold once more. Your muscles begin to swell and bulk up, taking on a chiseled, masculine form.
"You're built like a god now. Act like it." Chad's voice rings out, "Walk around like you own the place, 'cause you do. Entitlement is your birthright, remember that."
Your muscles ripple and grow, becoming impressively defined. The bulges of your biceps and pecs send pleasure straight to your heavy balls and thick cock. You stand taller, chest puffed out proudly.
"Fuck yeah, we gotta document this!" Zac squeals excitedly. "Get the camera out, bro! Show the world what we're working with. Hashtag blessed, hashtag gains, hashtag fitness goals! Gotta get them followers, man!"
You pull out your phone with a grin, snapping selfie after selfie from every angle. You look hot. You look good. And you know it. And so will everyone else.
"Look at you." Samir's voice echos in your brain. Dark, glossy hair springs from your scalp, curling slightly. A well-groomed beard spreads across your jawline and chin, "Embrace your heritage, yaar. You're a son of the Middle East now."
You feel warmth as your skin takes on a warm, healthy olive tone. You run a hand through your thick, black hair, admiring how it contrasts with your chiseled features. Your beard feels soft and stylish as you run your fingers along it. You feel a surge of pride in your Arab roots.
"Holy shit dude, we are ripped!" Brody exclaims gleefully, slurring his words slightly. "Time to hit the town and get fucked up! Gonna be the life of the party with these sick muscles, bro!"
You can feel the intelligence draining from your mind, replaced by a happy-go-lucky, dim-witted enthusiasm. Your tongue lolls out as you grin dopily. The voices blend together into a confusing chorus as your body and mind warp to accommodate all four personas simultaneously. You're left standing in the middle of your classroom, nothing more than a muscular, entitled, self-absorbed Arab party bro, with the combined traits and attitudes of Chad, Zac, Samir, and Brody.
"Yo, teach!" One of your students calls out, "You learn your lesson?"
You turn to face him, your muscular physique on full display as you cross your arms over your broad chest. A cocky smirk plays across your handsome, bearded face. You flash a brilliant, charismatic smile at the student, your teeth gleaming white against your olive skin.
"Lesson learned, my dude."
“Hey Brad, how's it going being me? Are you done crying every night yet?” said my old body in the video I received in my email this morning. It had been two weeks since this nerd switched our bodies using some magic spell or some shit. It even made it so I couldn’t tell anyone what had happened. Who cared if I had made his life miserable in high school or whatever he called it, nerds like him deserved to be put in their place. Then he had the nerve to show up at the same college I had gotten a football scholarship too. It was like he was asking for it. Now he had switched our bodies and would send me updates on what he was doing in my body.
“I’m having the best time. Who knew I could pick up your workout routine so quickly, but you really should have told me about these huge tits of yours. He lifted up his shirt exposing my pecs and stomach. I can’t even get through a workout without needing to message these bad boys they’re so big. These nipples are out of this world too just a little twist or tug and it’s like a lightning bolt shoots down to my dick. Sure people stare when I’m sitting in the locker room shirtless rubbing my chest but I can’t help it. I barely make it to the shower sometimes before I’m ready to blow.” “Oh I should mention you can’t come to your old dorm room anymore I kind of got kicked out of the student housing. I guess your roommate didn’t like coming home last Thursday to me with my eyes rolled in the back of my head as a guy on the university hockey team made me drool all over his bed.” He winked and then pointed the camera behind him and shook my ass which I now saw was in a bright pink jockstrap. “This thing sure can take a pounding and do you like my new outfit it does make some of the guys in the locker room stare” he laughed as he spanked it hard.
Don’t worry I found a great place to live. I sent you another video with my new boyfriend. I opened my inbox again and found the link to a new video of a blonde guy with a hat on standing shirtless with my old body behind him. “I met him at the club and we instantly fell in love. He loves it when I flex for him and he’s teaching me how to pole dance just like him so I can drop out and work as a dancer just like him! You probably won’t be hearing from me for a while so enjoy this video of our training session and enjoy your new life. I know I will.” The video continued to play as I dropped my phone in shock. I could hear my former body and his new boyfriend giggling as he was taught how to dance like a stripper. I collapsed on the bed and began to cry as reality sank in.
David Laid
For more follow
Young Muscle
Conrad was 65 years old, past his prime and lived alone. The man lived a sad lonely life and felt like he had wasted his entire youth on drugs and living what he thought at the time was the high life. Those days, were long gone and what was left was an empty man. Things would change however, when Conrad heard a knock on his door while watching tv.
The old man got up, having to slowly do so and walked to the front door, opening it, expecting some door to door salesman to sell him a useless product. Instead to his surprise was a box with a note plastered on top.
"Who the hell put this here?" Conrad spoke. The old man's first thought was that someone was pulling on prank on him.
Conrad thought it better to get it over with and plucked the note from the top of the box and gave it a read
DEAR CONRAD
IT HAS COME TO MY ATTENTION THAT YOU FEEL LIKE YOU HAVE WASTED YOUR LIFE AND WISH YOU COULD TAKE IT ALL BACK. I WISH TO HELP YOU IN THIS ENDEAVOR. INSIDE THE BOX IS A BRACELET THAT YOU REMIND YOU OF THAT YOUTH YOU HAVE LOST.
ENJOY!
- ???
The note immediately perplexed Conrad. What the fuck were they talking about he thought. Magic doesn't exist and Conrad doubts this "bracelet" will suddenly attract lovers. Conrad was still convinced this was a prank, but decided to bring the box inside so no hooligans record him. The old man picked up the box and plopped it onto the nearby kitchen table. Conrad also grabbed a knife from his kitchen to open the box. Knife in hand, Conrad cut the box open to reveal whatever could be inside.
To Conrad's mild surprise, there was a bracelet in the box. Nothing special, as the only notable thing about it was a diamond shaped green jewel on the top.
"So they weren't lying, huh" Conrad put his hand into the box and grabbed the bracelet, pulling it out and inspected it from various angles.
"Doesn't look rigged..."
Conrad was slowly being convinced that this bracelet wasn't a prank. And then the old man thought back to what the letter said.
"Remind you of your youth..." The words were too enticing to not try.
Against Conrad's better judgement, he put the bracelet on his left wrist in hopes of attaining what seemed impossible.
But the impossible was becoming possible in a matter of seconds. There was a instant sense of euphoria coming from every part of Conrad's body the moment the bracelet made contact with the wrist. That euphoria was translating into a magical process. Conrad was de-aging. Wrinkles were evaporating. Conrad's skin was clearing and looking more youthful. Conrad's crow feet smoothed out as any grey hairs regained their color. Conrad's spine straighten and gained many inches in height. By the time the changes were done, Conrad looked 60 years younger. A man that looked about in his twenties. To conrad it, felt so good that his small dick shot up in size as well. The euphoria would continue when Conrad's facial features was the next focus of attention.
Conrad's face was very stereotypical American, even after he regained his youth. The bracelet's power had other plans though. Conrad's features were shifting and rearranging. Something more masculine and fierce, but also... Turkish. With a more defined jawline, straighter nose, and more defined cheekbones. Conrad's hairstyle also took the time to properly restyle itself from an old man style to something much more youthful and trendy. Conrad now had the look of a turkish man in his 20's.
"Kahretsin… Kendimi çok genç hissediyorum!" (Shit… I feel So Young!) Conrad moaned. Not noticing the complete switch to speaking Turkish.
There was just one more thing to be done to Conrad's body physically.
Growth.
Conrad was gaining muscle at a rapid rate. His thighs thickened, his feet got bigger. Conrad's ass ballooned into a fat juicy behind. Abs were perfectly carved into his torso while beef was filling his pecs into two bouncy mounds. Conrad's lats widened while his triceps and biceps grew to two trunk-like arms with hands that fit the new girth. And finally, Conrad's traps and beck bulged in size. Throughout the process, many rips were heard as the muscles were breaking out of Conrad's old man clothes. That's when Conrad felt the urge to flex all his newly gained muscles and caused further tearing until everything he was wearing fell right off besides his underwear.
Only clad in his underwear, Conrad majestically walked to his bedroom where a mirror was located. With each step of his big foot, the struggling boxers filled its open holes and enlarged to fit Conrad's new dick and ass. And then, Conrad arrived in front of his mirror, allowing himself to see the young adonis he had become. This kickstarted the last couple of changes, this time more mental than physical.
Conrad's very life was being rewritten. Reality shifting to fit the new him. All old man experiences were gone as the most recent year Conrad could remember was his 22nd year. His american origins were also changed with more turkish ones. The name Conrad being lost to the aether as Mustafa came to prominence as his true name. Instead of a sad life, Mustafa had been rigorously bulking his body since he was 16 years old. A more jockish personality spread forth as Mustafa got more and more confident about his body and lifestyle. That lifestyle including a lot more friends just like him. The home around Mustafa shifted into a bigger more impressive place with a mini gym and an entire cupboard of workout gear.
"O kadar seksi görünüyorum ki..." (I look so fucking hot...) Mustafa muttered. Fully reveling in his looks. Arousal evident by the tent in his underwear slowly increasing.
Mustafa pouted his face, really trying to revel in his masculine features. It looks silly sure, but his girlfriend thought it was hot-
Girlfriend... Fuck, Mustafa had a girlfriend now. Memories of meeting her and dating her filled Mustafa's mind, completely drowning out Conrad as the bracelet he was wearing turned into a smart watch.
Mustafa, the young turkish jock was complete.
Mustafa felt ready to burst, but he just remembered he had to get going to gym in an hour. Mustafa headed to his expansive closet and grabbed everything he needed for a great workout. After making his protein shake, Mustafa made his way to the gym in his very nice looking car, excited for another pump filled workout.
--------------------------------
Mustafa sat down after a very intense workout, really feeling that pump in all his muscles.
His Tank top was drenched in sweat, clinging to his skin. So, Mustafa got a lil' cocky and took his tank right off, leaving it on a nearby bench, then getting up to head to his next machine. Confidence oozed from the jock as he strut side to side.
Mustafa continued on in his fulfilling life, with everything the old Conrad could have ever dreamed. Mustafa even ended up in a big bodybuilding competition as such a young age.
Today's Youth simply got boomers beat. Even though the jock didn't know he was one just months prior.
Shredded
“Flex, my obedient jock toy.”
Over the last 6 months, Chase had been conditioned by a never ending loop of hypnotic files designed to transform him into a submissive jock toy. Now when his Coach gives him a command, he doesn’t think, he just obeys.
“Be a good muscle toy and strip for me.”
Jace found himself unable to resist his trainer’s mesmerizing voice and started to strip. Ever since he met him, his life has gotten easier. All he had to do was work out and obey. Nothing else mattered. He was a good muscle toy.