Aaron's social circle didn't know what to think about their friend's drastic transformation. Ever since he met Mr. Pollock three months ago, Aaron had been completely different. He had never really grown out of the preppy, frat boy energy he had cultivated during college, despite graduating almost a decade ago. He'd gotten a well paying job in the business sector and has been a bit of a douche, though he was still a good time at parties. He had been engaged to this girl, Charlotte. Things were going well until she caught him in bed with another woman four months ago or so. After the two broke up, Charlotte actually stayed a part of the friend group. Along with most of his friends, she actually preferred the new Aaron.
The early 30s man had been clean shaven and confident, with a smooth, toned body. He would hit up the gym three times a week, and was always talking about his morning routine. This was before he met the man he called 'Daddy'. All that his friends knew was that Aaron had quit his job three months back, disappeared to who knew where, and had been responding to worried texts and missed calls with short messages like "busy, be back soon". After a month of this, Aaron finally returned as a new man. That is to say, he returned as another man's new boy.
Save his buzzed head, this new Aaron was hairier than anyone would have thought possible considering his once smooth body. He now always sported a thick mustache, along with variations of shaved, stubble, or trimmed beard. The polos and boat shoes that used to make up his wardrobe had been replaced by leather boots and flannel shirts. He also put on some weight in the last month and now had a bit of a belly and a much thicker ass. His friends also swore he was a couple inches shorter, though that was obviously impossible.
Along with the physical changes, Aaron's personality had also shifted significantly. He came out as gay, and was clearly on the kinky side with the padlock often worn around his neck. He now spoke with a touch of a southern accent, clearly influenced by Mr. Pollock's heavy drawl. He was much more crass in casual conversation and no longer possessed the quick wit he once used to subtly bring down friends and enemies alike. In fact, Aaron was a lot more kind now and certainly more fun to drink with.
The biggest change, however, was his deference to Mr. Pollock in seemingly every aspect of his life. He always ran his schedule by his daddy before making plans. He would always obey anything Mr. Pollock told him to do. Aaron would hang on his daddy's every word as if it were divine revelation. His friends were immediately skeptical when he came back so different and had told them about the man who came into his life and 'fixed him'. However, when Aaron actually brought his daddy to a small house party Charlotte's best friend was hosting that week, Mr. Pollock just seemed like a genuinely nice older man. Confident, intelligent, and incredibly kind, Mr. Pollock clearly adored his new boy. His charm eventually assuaged the worries of all but one of Aaron's friends.
Leon.
Leon was one of Aaron's frat brothers and his best friend for years. They went far back and were each in all of the other's crazy stories from college. Leon had actually been with Aaron the night him and Mr. Pollock had met. Aaron had gotten particularly drunk and Leon was walking him back to his car to drive him home. They turned into an alleyway outside of a bar where a group of three older men dressed in leather clothes were smoking. One of those men, who Leon later learned was Mr. Pollock, winked at the two of them.
Aaron, fragile in his emotions and masculinity, got aggressive immediately. Leon tried to grab onto his friend as he shouted slurs at the men, but Aaron slipped out of his grasp just as another of the men blew a kiss in his direction. Aaron managed to land a solid punch on Mr. Pollock's chin, though the taller man barely flinched. He reached his arms around the young man who had just assaulted him, pinning Aaron's arms to his sides. He leaned down and began whispering something into the ear of the captive in his arms and after a few seconds of struggling, Aaron went limp in his arms in some kind of daze. Leon looked at the men, terrified.
"Go on, son, git! Or do ya want to join him?" One of the other men yelled. Leon took the hint and started running.
The man who grabbed Aaron called out to him in the dark, "Yer friend will be back in a bit, though don't ya tell anyone about this, boy! You won't, or else you'll be next!"
A month later, the color drained out of Leon's face when Aaron returned with his kidnapper's arm around his waist. When he locked eyes with the older man, Mr. Pollock guestured with his arm out, as if to say 'I have two arms if you want to join your friend.' Leon had never thought of another man sexually before, but the image of Mr. Pollock, the new Aaron, and himself naked in bed flashed through his mind. His dick began to get hard as he quickly left the informal party.
Since that day, Leon avoided any party or get together if he knew Aaron's 'daddy' would be there. He tried to get his best friend alone to ask him about that night and after two months, he finally managed it. He met Aaron a cafe down the block from the car shop he now worked at. Mr. Pollock had pulled some strings with a friend, the shop's owner, to get his boy a new job.
"Do you remember anything about that night, Aaron? In the alley?" Leon asked as soon as he got the opportunity.
"Yeah, 'course I do! That's when I met my sir. He was so tall and handsome. He winked at me and I just couldn't help but be charmed by him." Aaron answered as he smiled into the distance. "Why'd ya ask?"
"No, man. That isn't what happened!" Leon said, unintentionally raising his voice with concern. "He kidnapped you, Aaron! He did something to you. Changed you!"
"Y-yeah. He fixed me." Aaron said, confused by what Leon was saying. "He didn't kidnap me though. Right?"
"Listen to me, he did something to you. And he said I couldn't tell anyone else about this or he threatened to do it to me, too!"
"Oh…" Aaron looked concerned for a moment then quickly perked up. "Would that you mean you'd be his boy too? We'd be brothers again!That'd be fuckin' awesome!"
"No, no, no! I don't want that! You don't want this!" Leon said, though arousal flushed through him regardless. "Look, you can't trust him! I'll look for some way to undo this. I can fix you Aaron."
Leon put his arm on Aaron's shoulder and looked him in the eyes. He saw a flash of fear in his best friend's face. He was getting through to him!
"You in there, Aaron?" Leon said after a moment.
"Y-yeah. I'm confused. I-I think you're right, something feels strange about that night. Fuzzy."
The light accent he'd spoken with since returning seemed to disappear as he stubbled through his words. Aaron tried to think through what Leon was telling him, but it was so hard. He didn't like to think too hard these days, not with his sir to think for him. There was something there, though, as he wondered if what Leon was saying might be true. Suddenly, the thought of his daddy flooded his mind as he once again spoke with a slight twang.
"No! Daddy wouldn't do that to me! He loves me!"
"Come on, Aaron! After all we've been through together, you have to trust me! He's not who he seems." Leon looked at his watch and knew their lunch was over. "Look, just don't tell him about this, not yet. I gotta think about this, figure it out."
Aaron nodded at him, his expression conflicted. Leon hoped his friend would see reason, though it wouldn't be long before he would be disappointed.
That night, Leon received a text from Aaron. First, he saw the picture of Mr. Pollock in a bright red jockstrap with his hand on Aaron's hairy bare ass. The old man's expression sent a clear message.
'Mine!'
Immediately following the image was an address and then a message:
He told me everything. You're jealous. It's only natural for a boy like you to want to serve a man like me. Lucky for you, I have room for two cubs in my life! Come here, now, and I will make you into the boy you were always meant to be!
Leon stared at the image and text for nearly five minutes. He was transfixed by the man's eyes. His bulge. Everything. He knew, in his heart, it was over. He got up and put his shoes on, telling his wife that he was just getting some fresh air. He knew his life was over, and Mr. Pollock, his daddy, would give him a new one, just like he did with his brother Aaron. 20 minutes later, he rang the doorbell of the address given to him. He melted into the arms of Mr. Pollock as he was taken inside to meet his fate.
Aaron looked at Leon with a hunger as his daddy began to make out with his best friend. Daddy had promised him that his new brother would make such a cute pocket bear, and that they would both share him as their bottom bitch. As the older bear held, kissed, and fondled him, Leon soon grew shorter, fatter, and much hairier. His pants fell down around his ankles, exposing his rapidly growing ass. Aaron embraced Leon from behind as daddy put his hand on Aaron's shoulder. As Leon's body changed and mind twisted, he felt Aaron's lubed up cock line up with his ass. Leon moaned and shuddered as his brother began working his way into his hole. Assulted from both ends by the two hottest men he'd ever known, Leon was being reborn. And he was loving it.
I'm back with a full story, a 5,000 word commission this time! I hope you guys enjoy, and a silent shout out to the guy who paid for this, you know who you are and you rock!
Wrestled into a New Reality
Carlos Torres had one dream in life, just one goal, one ambition; to wrestle. As long as he could remember, even when he was young, Carlos had dreamed of being a wrestler. A young latino boy who saw very few people he could relate to on television, Carlos grew up idolizing the macho luchadors he saw on TV, and play wrestling with his brothers and uncles. And well most young boys eventually moved on from their wrestling phase and into whatever other random thing they’d be interested in for about a month, Carlos’ love of wrestling only grew and grew with time. Sadly, his adoration of the sport didn’t translate into any skill with it. Despite taking wrestling classes from as young as seven, and practicing with dedication and heart, Carlos never managed to win as much as a single match, much less gain any of the muscular size that wrestlers traditionally have. He didn’t make it onto his middle school team, or onto his high school team, and after almost three years of working out obsessively and trying for it year after year after year, Carlos had just lost his final chance at getting onto his college’s wrestling team. The college senior knew it had been a long shot, that he had been incredibly scrawny his entire life, that he never seemed to go through the growth spurts his parents always told him was on the horizon, and that there was little chance of any of that suddenly changing, but this had been his last chance. Carlos was hoping that just this once someone would see the potential he knew he had, that he could get on a team and maybe, just maybe, having teammates and a coach would lead to him finally growing into the wrestling machine he has always dreamed of being. But once again, he had missed the cut. Once again, his dream had been crushed, this time for good.
Carlos trudged into the men's locker room, having hidden in a stall of a nearby bathroom in the hopes of avoiding the pitying looks of those who had actually managed to get on the team. Most of the athletes in school actually got along really well with Carlos, most admiring his dedication despite his difficulties and finding it easy to bond with him over his love of the sport, but right now Carlos just couldn’t handle seeing them. He just knew he’d be overwhelmed by his envy and end up saying something stupid, or even cruel, which was the last thing he wanted to do to the few people in his college he could call his friends. Relieved to find that the locker room was now empty, Carlos walked over to his locker, and quietly opened it, only to feel that small relief completely evaporate. His locker was almost completely empty. Some of his stuff had been left behind, including his wallet and phone thank god, but his clothing had seemingly evaporated. The only piece of clothing left in his locker was a single red jockstrap, one that Carlos was certain wasn’t his.
Carlos felt his stomach sink as his already horrible mood grew worse. After everything he had been through today, after losing out on his dream, someone stole his clothing? What was he supposed to do now? He couldn’t just walk out of the gym wearing his sweaty, musky wrestling gear, especially since he hadn’t managed to get on the team and had to give it back to the wrestling coach, Coach Simmons. He could possibly borrow some clothing from the lost and found in Coach Simmons’ office, but he’d have to get there. He couldn’t stand the embarrassment of being seen walking around in his borrowed singlet so long after tryouts had ended. Which meant…
Carlos winced in disgust as he looked at the red piece of cloth lying at the bottom of his locker. He picked it up with two fingers, not wanting to touch it directly. Carlos was used to wearing athletic gear, and wasn’t really one to be squeamish, but in this case the jockstrap was… clearly used. It wasn’t filthy per say, but he could see the sweat stains, and smell the musk radiating off of it without even trying. Carlos was absolutely grossed out… but if it was between this, stripping down to nothing in front of Coach Simmons, wearing a singlet he didn’t earn, or – god forbid – using lost and found underwear, then the choice was obvious. Faced with an awful choice, Carlos swallowed his pride, stripped off his somewhat too large singlet, and put on the red jockstrap, shuddering slightly as it settled around his five inch cock. Suddenly, Carlos felt a strange, intense heat rush through him, starting in his crotch and radiating out throughout his entire body, leaving him panting and confused. It was a heavy, humid heat that made his entire body start to sweat as a haze came over his mind. What the fuck was happening to him? Had someone done something to the jockstrap?
Carlos knew something was wrong, knew that the strange jockstrap he had tried on had done something, but as he reached down to try and take it off he could feel the heat that had spread across his body grow even more intense. He panted deeply and wiped sweat from his brow. Why was he so hot? He felt like he had been standing in a sauna after an hours-long workout, and for some reason the feeling just seemed to be getting more intense, especially in his crotch. He took a deep breath, trying to both cool and calm himself down, only to get a noseful of his own newfound sweaty musk. Fuck he smelled so gross, so sweaty, so… manly? He had never liked the smell of his own BO before, but right now it was almost… intoxicating. He tried again to reach down and take off his jockstrap, only for another wave of heat to come over his body. This one wasn’t like the last wave though. For some reason, it felt… good. Really good. Instead of reaching down to the waistband, Carlos felt himself reach past it, down to his bulge, which he began to rub and grope through the sweaty red jockstrap. The scrawny latino moaned, loudly and wantonly, as he grabbed at his cock and felt another wave of heat spread through his body, this one reverberating through him like a shockwave as it hit his muscles. Said muscles seemed to pump themselves up with every grope and thrust, growing larger and larger. Carlos watched, his mind too hazy from the sweat and musk to understand, as his muscles began to slowly grow, his shoulders broadening, neck thickening, and chest shoving out into an impressive set of pecs as his entire body packed on muscle. It wasn’t long before the formally small latino looked like the wrestling jocks he had always envied and lusted after, but the growth didn’t just stop there. His pecs, already huge, grew almost obscenely large, as his ass pushed against the back of the jockstap, his cheeks becoming thick, muscular and juicy. His cock, which he was now groping wildly with both hands as he moaned deeply, was clearly larger, now almost the size of a soda can and long enough that he needed both his meaty hands to hold it. Carlos, or whoever he had become because of the jockstrap, didn’t look like a wrestler, but instead looked like some sort of pornographic parody of a wrestler. The latino muscle slut, because that was the only word for what he was now, felt himself pant harder as his cock began to twitch in his hands, and before he knew it, he had soaked his jock in a thick load of cum.
Carlos, who was so dazed by what had just happened that he couldn’t quite remember his name, looked around in confusion. What was he doing in the locker room? Was he supposed to be working out right now or something? He did spend a lot of time working out, didn’t he? The latino looked down at his body, and after struggling for a moment to peak over his massive pecs, noticed that there was cum dripping from his favorite jock. Oops. Carlos let out a deep, dumb chuckle and stripped off the jock, leaving his footlong, cum covered cock dangling out in the air, half hard and slapping against his muscular thigh as he walked around. He swaggered over to his locker, his impossibly big ass jiggling with every step, and tossed the soaked red jockstrap inside for someone else to find, before swaggering out of the locker room, completely naked.
The jock who had formerly been Carlos walked confidently towards Coach Simmons’ office, the last vestiges of Carlos’ intelligence remembering that he needed to get something from the lost and found, though he couldn’t quite remember what. He opened the door to Coach Simmons’ office, and found a shocked looking Simmons sitting at his desk. Coach Simmons was an older man, an out of shape ex jock in his mid fifties, with balding gray hair and a large beer gut. Carlos had always tried to get along with Coach Simmons, but the wrestling coach had a habit of pretending that anyone who couldn’t lift at least 220 didn’t exist. Now however, Coach was definitely noticing Carlos, standing up in shock as the naked wrestler entered his office, his cock still dripping with leftover cum. Simmons’ stood up, a look of outrage on his face, but was stopped in his tracks as Carlos’ musky, manly smell hit him. What had he been so angry about again? Simmons’ felt some of the fat on his body melt away, regaining some of the muscles he had in the old days as his hair seemed to darken and grow back. In moments Coach Simmons’ looked less like a college wrestling coach, and more like a DILF pornstar pretending to be one.
“Boy!” Simmons said, finally remembering he had been angry at the latino jock that had entered his office “Why the hell are you out of uniform?” He said. Suddenly the fact that Carlos wasn’t wearing his wrestling gear was far more important than the fact that he didn’t have anything on at all. It was time for practice damnit, and he didn’t need his star wrestler falling behind.
“Oh! Uh, sorry coach. I think my singlet got shrunk in the wash or something.” The sweat covered jock said dumbly, vaguely remembering a singlet that was far too small for someone of his size.
“Goddamnit Maestre, do I need to fuck some sense into that head of yours?” Simmons said “You can all be as dumb and slutty as you want in your free time, but when you’re at practice you have to remember to bring your singlet!”
Maestre? Was Coach Simmons talking to him? But that wasn’t his name, was it?
“Sorry Coach Rocks! I didn’t mean to forget.” The latino hunk said apologetically “Can I get a backup singlet?” He asked
Coach Rocks glared at the jock for a moment, before smirking “... You can have the extra singlet Max. But first, you’ve got to earn it. On your knees boy!”
Maximilano ‘Max’ Maestre fell onto his knees, his huge cock almost slapping against his abs as he did and his dumb mouth wide open. He knew that he should try not to lose his singlet so much, but it was hard not to, especially when Coach Rocks made the punishment so fun! In moments Coach Rocks had Max deep throating his cock, his huge balls slapping against Max’s strong cleft chin and chiseled jaw. Max moaned as Coach roughly fucked his face, and felt the mans large hands grope at his own massive shoulders. Max loved being a slut for Coach, just like everyone else on the wrestling team! And as the best wrestler on the team, Max was the one who got first dibs at worshipping his cock after practice. The others could get jealous sometimes, but there was always plenty to go around.
Coach Rocks pulled his cock out of Max’s mouth, before smacking him across the face with his 14 inch rocket, making Max moan wantonly. He grabbed Max, pulling him up into a deep, sultry kiss as he groped at his incredible fat ass, pulling apart the massive cheeks with both hands and pushing his cock inside of Max in one fluid movement. Max moaned slutily, moving up and down on Coach’s cock as his own was sandwiched between both of their abs.
“Coach! Fuck I need you coach! You’re so fucking hot! I love your cock Coach!” Max moaned wantonly, a stupid, fucked out look on his face
“Goddamn it kid,” Coach Rocks panted out “You keep saying sweet, slutty shit like that and I’m gonna…” Coach groaned loudly, before shooting his load deep inside Max’s jiggling ass. Max felt the warm cum flood his insides, and with another massive moan, shot out cum across his and Coach Rocks abs. Coach Rocks grinned, his tone fond despite his stern words “You are such a messy slut, aren’t you boy?”
“Hehehe, yeees.” Max said dumbly, moaning as he pulled himself off of Coach Rocks’ cock
“Alright, a deal is a deal. Clean yourself up and grab your singlet. And maybe some regular clothes too. I don't need my star player getting arrested afterall.” Coach Rock said, tossing Max a spare towel, a singlet, and some clothes. Max just giggled dumbly and wiped some cum off his abs. Fuck he loves his life.
—
Max swaggered across the quad, accompanied by the everyday sounds of his jiggling ass and his huge cock smacking against his thigh. For some reason there was an extra pep in his step, though he couldn’t tell why. Sure he had just gotten fucked stupid by Coach, but he did that all the time. And yeah, he had an awesome day of wrestling, but he had been wrestling since middle school. Still, there was something about the day that reminded him of the first time he made the wrestling team, something about the day that made him feel like his future was all ahead of him. Maybe it was the clothing Coach had given him. The red stringer tanktop that did basically nothing to hide his pecs, and the posing shorts that showed off her whole ass, did look good on him. He was hot enough that he looked good in basically anything, but the showy clothing had him feeling especially sexy. As Max strut through the campus, he didn’t notice that girls seemed to be avoiding him, or that guys got a strange, hazy look in their eyes just by being close to him. He didn’t see the effect his manly musk had on the people around him. He didn’t notice anyone, at least until he saw Fred.
Carlos hadn’t really known Fred that well. He had known of Fred, had seen the somewhat short, red haired twink around the school, either talking with other nerdier students or just people watching, but had never actually talked to him. Max, however, couldn’t take his eyes off of him, or more specifically his ass. Fuck, how had Max not already fucked that juicy, cute ass? Was he blind? Was this guy some sort of transfer that hadn’t come within a hundred miles of this school before today? That was the only excuse he could think of for not having made this twink his ages ago. Fred was standing by a water fountain, giving Max a perfect view of his ass, and without even thinking about it, Max quickly made his way over and groped Fred's butt with one of his meaty hands. Fred instinctively tried to jump forward, only to inhale a ton of musk, that left Fred dazed and relaxing into the comfortable feeling of a massive jock massaging his ass. He giggled dumbly as he felt his body slim, fat seeming to travel down from other parts of his body and into his hips, which grew even juicy. His features softened, becoming cute and almost dainty as he let loose a sweet, feminine moan. Fred looked back, not seeing a stranger but now seeing…
“Maxie!” The redhead giggled, happy to see his boyfriend, or at least one of them, grabbing and playing with his bubble butt. The jock gave a deep, fond and amused chuckle as he almost drooled over the twink, who looked like he had been yanked out of a cheesy porno. It seemed like everyone Max interacted with became a porn version of themselves, though Max didn’t seem to notice.
“Hey Red. You’re looking, like, fucking sexy.” Max said, getting another dumb giggle from the former nerd
“Awe, you’re so good with words baby!” Red said with a ditzy laugh.
Max pulled down Red’s pants, revealing his juicy, jiggly bubble butt to the cold air, and shoved a finger in almost casually, getting Red to moan wantonly
“M-maxie! We might get caught!” Red whined, wiggling his ass needily despite his protest
“C’mon babe, who's gonna stop us?” Max said with a grin, kissing Red’s neck as he added another finger, and then another. For Coach Rocks Max was another needy jock meant to ride his cock, but for Red, Max was a sex god for him to worship. Max pulled out his fingers, getting a needy gasp from Red, before sliding his fat footlong cock inside of him, starting to fuck the twink well he was half bent over a waterfountain out in the middle of the west quad. Not that anyone seemed to mind. Girls seemed to avoid the area entirely, leaving like there was a bad smell and not seeming to even notice the raunchy sex, well guys seemed to be hypnotized by the very sight, whipping out their cocks are beginning to jerk off to the sight as they either gained a ridiculous amount of muscle and became dumb porn jocks, or slimmed down to become cute twinks. Soon the open sex show became a straight up orgy as Max’s thick balls smacked against Red’s thick, beautiful ass. As Max and Red got into a trance like rhythm, Red bouncing on Max’s cock, Max began to thrust faster as he felt his release approached. Red moaned sluttily and came across the grass, before Max came deep inside him. Just as quickly as it started, the orgy dispersed, some of the men remaining transformed, well others began to revert, confused looks on their faces as they wandered off. Max pulled up Red’s pants, smacked his ass, and gave the twink a deep kiss. Red had been one of Max’s favorite lays, ever since they met in freshman year. Max would never be satisfied with one hole, or one cock, but Red was one of the people he had the strongest romantic feelings for, and he knew Red felt the same.
“See you later babes.” Max said, giving Red a deep kiss that left him panting and breathless. Red walked off, cum dribbling down his pant leg as Max started to head down the quad again. Where was he supposed to go again? He always felt like he was forgetting one thing or another. Maybe he should go fuck someone again. That could help him focus better, right?
—
Maximilano ‘Max’ Maestre fucking loved wrestling. He had been a huge fan of wrestling ever since he was a kid, but that wasn’t really why he liked it so much these days. These days Max loved wrestling because of the hot, raw sex. He hadn’t realized it, but in the nearly twenty four hours that had gone by since he had been transformed from the scrawny hopeful wrestler Carlos Torres into the hypersexual himbo wrestler Max Maestre, he had managed to inadvertently transform about half of the wrestling team into himbos too. It seemed like whatever had happened to the wrestler was somewhat contagious, with anyone he interacted with directly being transformed into a pornographic, parody-like version of themselves. Every interaction, from working out with some of his fellow wrestlers, to saying hi to a roommate, to talking to one of his professors, ended with everyone involved becoming a hypersexualized version of themselves, which usually also resulted in, well, sex. And because Carlos, now Max, was friends with most of the guys on the wrestling team, they had been some of the first to be transformed.
Max swaggered into the wrestling gym, the outline of his massive cock clearly visible through his red singlet, which was almost comically stretched across his incredibly muscular body. His grin, full of a stupid confidence that only jocks like him seemed to have, grew even bigger as he saw one of his best friends, Tommy, already waiting for him. Tommy, who had been a fairly friendly wrestler named Tim before the change, was a Korean stud muffin with biceps that looked almost ridiculously big, even to Max’s warped perception. Max immediately sauntered over to Tommy and smacked him on the ass, getting a dumb chuckle from his friend, whose ass was still jiggling as he turned to see him.
“Bro! Glad to see you didn’t forget your singlet this time.” Tommy said, playfully punching Max on the shoulder “I was sure you’d be looking for another dicking down from Coach.”
“What can I say man? I gotta keep some fuel in the tank for the rest of you.” Max said with a dumb chuckle that flowed from his mouth like water. “Who the unlucky fucker whose going up against me today anyways?” Max asked, wanting to know who he’d be paired up against today.
“You’re looking at him!” Tommy said with a grin and a playful wink “We’re the first match of the day too! You better not go easy on me man.” He said with a competitive smirk
“Oh you know I won’t.” Max said. As the familiar sound of Coach Rocks’ whistle echoed throughout the gym, Max and Tommy chest bumped and headed to opposite sides of the ring. It was time for their match. Both jocks got into position, and at Coach Rocks’ signal, the match began.
Max and Tommy quickly began to grapple, their massive muscles flexing as their bodies pressed together. Max managed to get Tommy to the ground, his pecs pushed into his face, but the next moment Tommy had Max on the ropes, his manly bulge pressed against the other wrestler's face. The two continued like this, expertly taking the other down, only to fail to contain their hypermuscular opponent. Max, now soaked in both his and Tommy’s sweat, grinned eagerly, not in spite of the difficult challenge but because of it. Not being able to take Tommy out right away meant he had an excuse to take out the big guns. Max managed to pin Tommy down just long enough to start grinding his thick footlong cock against Tommy’s muscular ass. Max smirked as Tommy moaned and shuddered at the feeling, knowing the other boy had lost his focus. Tommy was an excellent wrestler, but Max knew all his weak points, and that Tommy had a soft spot for Max’s rock hard cock. In a flurry of movements, Max somehow managed to keep Tommy down while also stripping off both of their singlets, the wrestling match quickly morphing into a live sex show, one that Coach Rocks and the other wrestlers were clearly enjoying. Max shoved his cock deep inside Tommy, whose ass eagerly swallowed his friend's throbbing member inside of him. Tommy, trying to get back control, groped at Max’s pecs, making the other wrestler moan wantonly but not managing to throw him off enough to let Tommy free himself. Max began to fuck Tommy roughly into the wrestling mat, Coach Rocks seeming to tap the ground as slowly as possible to let the show go on as much as he could, every tap accompanied by another thrust by Max. One, two, three, – Tommy pushed back against the thrusting, both hoping to get free and hoping to get Max’s cock even deeper inside of him – four, five, six, – Max managed to get his mouth on Tommy’s left pec, kissing and worshiping the wrestlers chest in a way that left the Korean hunk trembling with pleasure – seven, eight, nine – Max took Tommy into a deep, dominating kiss, before with a final thrust – ten. Max finally came, shooting a cumshot deep inside Tommy that was so big it left a puddle on the floor around them, just as he was declared winner of the match. Max panted, smiling with almost delirious pleasure and trying to catch his breath as he pulled out of his friend and helped him to his feet.
“Told you I wouldn’t go easy on your bro.” Max said with a breathless chuckle, wiping some cum from his friend's thigh as they left the ring.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way bro.” Tommy said, chuckling along with Max as cum dripped from his ass. Max grinned and grabbed a towel, hoping to clean himself off a bit well as they watched the next match. Goddamn, Max fucking loved wrestling.
—
“I will never get what your thing about the sauna is.” Tommy said with a chuckle as he, alongside Max and the rest of the wrestling team, stripped down in the locker room “I mean seriously man, I love a steam bath as much as anyone, but who the hell gets purposely more sweaty after spending hours wrestling?” He said, teasing Max slightly.
“Someone who goddamn loves being sweaty.” Max said with a grin “You’re just jealous of my incredible musk.” he said, flexing his biceps and letting everyone get a deep whiff of his sweaty, musky armpits. Although he was joking, Max didn’t seem to realize that his musky smell seemed to have an actual affect on the other jocks, who all moaned as the same stench that was part of their original transformation flooded their senses once again.
“Not gonna lie bro, that is hot as fuck…” Tommy said, almost drooling, before quickly collecting himself “But one of these days you’re gonna, like, passout from the hear or something. Just be careful, ok brah?”
Max chuckled happily, and nodded “Alright bro, I’ll be careful. Now, go take a shower of whatever it is the rest of you guys do after practice.” He said, before swaggering off towards the school sauna, still completely naked, his huge cock slapping against his thigh as he walked, just like usual.
Max entered the sauna alone, taking a deep breath as he did. He knew that it was a little strange to actively make himself warmer after practice instead of trying to cool down, but there was something about the warm feeling under his skin that was just addictive to the himbo. He sat down in the sauna, allowing himself to spread, and let himself enjoy the feeling of steam on his sweaty, sexy body. It wasn’t long before Max felt his cock grow hard, getting a chuckle from the jock. He had always been a huge horndog, at least as long as he remembered, so it wasn’t that strange that he was already ready for another round. What was strange however was that there was no one else around to help him. That was weird. Max was constantly hooking up with people, his friends, his boyfriend, his teachers, coach. It had been ages since he had actually had to, like, jerk off himself. Max moaned as he grabbed his own cock with both his hands, slowly stroking himself and feeling the heat of the sauna on his dick. Fuck, he almost forgot how good he was at this, hehe. He continued to slowly stroke and jerk at his 12 inch cock, his mind drifting to his many sexy hook ups throughout the day. There was Coach Rocks, Red, and Tommy of course, but also his roommate slash live-in cum slut Bill, his friends from the Sigma Epsilon Chi frat, who threw the wildest orgies on campus, Professor Braddock, who was an absolute fucking DILF who loved to tutor Max on how to take cock, and countless others. Fuck, his life was absolutely amazing. There was some part of him, deep down, that seemed to say that this was wrong, that his life wasn’t some massive gay porno, that he wasn’t like this, but that voice was quickly forgotten in the rush of lust as he began to hump his own hands, going faster and rougher as he approached the finale. He moaned deeply as he shot out a truly massive spurt of come, painting the walls of the sauna as he came, again and again and again. He let loose a final cumshot, hitting the hot stones of the sauna, which evaporated the cum and filled not only the sauna but the entire locker room with a familiar musky scent.
Max got up from his seat and left the sauna, a dumb smile on his face as he did. He didn’t think to clean up the mess he left before. He didn’t think of anything. He made his way back over to his locker, only to find all his clothing had disappeared! Had he lost his clothing again? He was starting to think people were just stealing his shit cause they wanted to see him naked. It made sense with a body like his. Fortunately, he noticed a familiar jockstrap sitting at the bottom of his locker. Max grinned and took the musky, well used jock out of his locked and slipped it on without a second thought. He fucking loved his lucky jock! He had been wearing it since high school, and it had brought him nothing but good fortune. He could honestly say he didn’t know where he’d be without his lucky jock.
Could you make a story where Bruce Wayne/Batman becomes a blonde himbo?
Bruce wasn't too keen on the new arboretum that had opened up seemingly overnight. It had Poison Ivy written all over it, but unfortunately, none of her tell-tale signs were there. He decided to go undercover as Bruce Wayne and check out the arboretum and see if he could find anything amiss. He did decide to go along, as to not arouse any suspicion by bringing a young adult with him on what was supposed to be mostly a business trip.
Bruce soon arrived at the arboretum and was let inside. The staff at the front seemed to be there of their own volition, and there were no signs of Poison Ivy's involvement thus far. The Batman did have to listen to a spiel before he was allowed to roam around fully, though. It was mostly about plants Bruce had heard of before, but one specifically caught his attention. He didn't recognize the name of the plant, and he was surprised it was even allowed to be grown in the arboretum when the worker said that its pollen was highly addicting and life-changing.
Naturally, Bruce went straight for this flower he didn't know anything about, which was exactly what Poison Ivy wanted. Yes, it was true that she was the one behind this arboretum, but did everything in her power to not make it appear that way. She had wanted Batman to investigate and fall for her trap, but it was actually easier to ensnare Bruce Wayne. Pamela had heard the rumors in the criminal underground that the billionaire and Batman were one and the same. Even if that weren't true, her plan would still affect a multi-billionaire quite harshly.
Bruce arrived at the flower, which outwardly looked quite innocuous. Once he made sure no one was around and was looking at him, he leaned in closer and decided to yank it out of the soil. He normally wouldn't have done such a thing, but it was a matter of public safety. However, before it could be yanked out, Poison Ivy activated a release mechanism and what Bruce assumed to be pollen was sprayed all over his face. Even Batman couldn't help but accidentally breathe some of the "pollen" in, which was exactly what Poison Ivy wanted, especially if Bruce and Batman were the same person.
After being sprayed with the pollen, Bruce quickly made his way back to the Batcave, where he could run some tests on the pollen that was indiscriminately sprayed on him. Both Alfred and Damien were in the Batcave when the Caped Crusader arrived.
"How was the trip to the arboretum, Master Bruce?"
"Yeah, dad, are we gonna fight Poison Ivy any time soon?"
"I was sprayed with some sort of pollen. I need to run some tests to determine what it is."
"I'll get right on that, Master Bruce."
"Fuck, Dad, I really wanted to tussle with Poison Ivy today!" Damien stormed off to his room as Alfred and Bruce began running the tests. Test after test turned out to be inconclusive or negative, and Bruce ran through a litany of plants, including some that weren't even native to Earth. It was well after midnight of the day that Bruce visited the arboretum that he decided to call it a night.
"Thank you, Alfred, you can go to bed now. I've pretty much exhausted all of the flora I can think of. I can run any additional tests that might come up myself."
"As you wish, Master Bruce. And thank you," Alfred muttered under his breath. He was a bit old, after all, and did need his sleep. Bruce ran a few more tests himself using some obscure and extinct flora as well, before finally calling it a night as well. The "pollen" was set to take affect once Bruce went into REM sleep. The Batman woke up the next morning, and within seconds, immediately realized something was wrong. He quickly found the closest mirror and confirmed it.
Bruce Wayne was now a blonde. He quickly made his way to the Batcave and ran a few tests on his hair follicles. It shouldn't have been possible, but he was now somehow a natural blonde. Bruce being Batman, he of course realized that the "pollen" from yesterday had caused this change, but even he wasn't sure how. No pollen, or really any natural substance that he knew of fundamentally changed DNA in such a specific way. Bruce was unfortunately soon called away on a Justice League situation and couldn't run additional tests, lest he let Alfred in on his hair color secret. Thankfully, his cowl completely covered his hair, so there were no questions from Clark, Diana, or the rest of the team as they solved the situation at hand.
One thing Bruce did notice throughout the mission was that his muscles seemed to ache with every passing second. Even someone like Bruce wasn't immune to muscle aches and pains, but it seemingly lasted the entire day. There was nothing Bruce could do about it, and he was surprised that he was still able to function by the end of the mission, considering just how bad it had gotten. Once he was back in the Batcave, he ran some additional tests, not even bothering to figure out the cause of his newly-blonde hair.
The results came back, and they were quite surprising. Bruce had actually gained a fair amount of muscle all over his body over the course of the day. He knew that it wasn't completely impossible to do; the pollen might have had Bane's venom mixed in or some other muscle growth substance involved. He ran even more tests on the pollen, but it all came back inconclusive or negative. So far his symptoms were being blonde and muscle growth, but not even Batman could put two and two together over what was happening to him. He finally went to bed, and fell into REM sleep fairly quickly, causing one of the last changes to take effect.
Bruce woke up the next morning and went to the bathroom to piss. After he did so, he played with his impressive eleven-inch cock for a few minutes and admired his appearance in the mirror. "I'm, like, so fuckin' hot, teeheehee!" It wasn't long before Batman blew his load all over the sink, and he didn't even bother to clean it up before going downstairs for breakfast.
"Good morning, Master..." Alfred didn't finish his sentence, dropping the food he was holding as he was shocked at the sight in front of him.
"Like, hi, Alfred, teeheehee! What's for, like, breakfast?" Bruce asked, plopping his nude muscular body down at the dining room table.
"Oh, uh, Master Bruce, is everything, um, alright?" Alfred asked, clearly asking a rhetorical question. He pressed a button and Damien soon appeared in the dining room, just as shocked as Alfred was. However, the young crimefighter had an explanation for this.
"Alfred, I think I know just what this might be. I've read some stories about it, erotica really, but I think Bruce was somehow infected by real-life himbo powder!"
"And himbos are the male equivalent of the reductive term 'bimbo', correct?"
"Yeah, and unfortunately Dad has all of the tell-tale signs of being a himbo, especially in the stories I've read. He's a dumb muscular blonde now."
"And what about a cure, Master Damian, if there is one?"
"Uh, I've never read a story where becoming a himbo was cured."
"Like, you look hot, teeheehee!" Bruce said, standing up and feeling up Damien's body, since he was only in his underwear, wanting to answer Alfred's call ASAP. Damien had a surprisingly strong right hook and knocked Bruce out, at least for a couple minutes.
"I feared that might be the case," Alfred said. "Help me get Master Bruce to the Batcave. It's our turn to run some tests." Bruce was able to be brought to the Batcave and securely bound before he woke up. Clark, Diana, and the rest of the Justice League were called in as backup. They all hated seeing Bruce as a himbo, especially his intelligence had precipitously dropped. For someone like Bruce, it didn't drop as far as it would have with an average Joe, but it was still humiliating to see Bruce like this. The whole team worked for two days straight, but in the end, they couldn't come up with anything to reverse the effects of the himbo powder.
Robin and the rest of the Bat-team took over protecting Gotham City, and "Bruce Wayne" was announced to have died in a freak accident. Poison Ivy was quite pleased with that fact, but she didn't connect the dots either when a new male stripper made his debut at one of Gotham's more high-class joints. He liked to tell clients that he was fucking or sucking that he was really Batman, but no one seemed to believe him. Besides, he was probably much better at gyrating on stage and having sex than he was fighting crime!
A commission story for all of you to see! If you all want to see commission stories, normal stories and captions early join the PATREON 's exclusive discord. You get access to all my previous work, voting on all future stories polls and access to some other perks very soon (the base tier of $5 bucks gets you all of that!! I also am opening up comms as i catch up on new bills and everything so if you'd like to join the que slide into my dms!
Now time for horny!
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Jim or as his mother would call him little Jimmy was begrudgingly AVERAGE at anything and everything and at the age of twenty five it was starting to get on his nerves. Not because it was causing him problems directly or that it was mentally taxing. It was bothering him because at this point all of his peers from high school and college had already moved out, moved on from the small town life. Whereas he was stuck with a simple office job, no relationship and a hell of a lot of self esteem issues. Not to mention living at home with his mom who insisted it was all fine, hell even encouraged it. With no one to push Jim out the nest, of course he would never try or learn to fly. He just moped about what it could have been, stashing back some money here and there just in case though.
(Jim)
He had just gotten home from work! Another droll day at the office, where he accomplished nothing but busy work and kept doing the same routine. He couldn’t even explain it to you if he tried what he did, he needed adventure, something, anything to change but he didn’t want to be the one to do it. He wanted someone to do it for him.
That's just what was getting ready to happen, it was late, he had to stay longer to organize some different files. His mom was out for some wine and book club and he had a microwave dinner calling to him. His clothes, disheveled and slightly unbuttoned, belt taken off and he was ready for the rest of it to be gone but food called his name. Just as finished starting the microwave he heard a loud knock on the door. Firm, sturdy, and from what he heard sounded like authority, it was enough to make him jump.
“Coming, who's there?" It was late but Jim was still a white man, he had no understanding or concept of fear beyond the sudden noise. No one would be coming to do untoward harm or with malicious intent. Not here, not to him, why would they? He walked to the door, not even waiting for them to reply or answer him. He didn’t even look through their peephole. As the door swung open a man spoke.
“Hey, Its Marshall, town sheriff, was doin neighbor check ins, you were on our list to hit tonight!” His voice was deep, southern. Not stupid but definitely slow. Sheriff Marshall was a silver fox daddy. A built body held back by a tan uniform that begged for release. A beard that would put any man's head of hair to shame with how full it was. His voice, his eyes were all deep with authority, holding attention until you were dismissed in some manner. There was also this scent, this smell, this MUSK that started to slowly waft, piercing any barriers, and every sense inside and out of Jimmy.
It was heavy, earthy, drawing the office worker in, making him more susceptible to the upcoming plans of the Sheriff. He couldn’t stop himself from taking another deep whiff, his face scrunching up, because it was almost foul with how overpowering it was, sweat from a hard day's work mixed with natural BO, but the more he breathed in, the more addictive it got. The more agreeable, and open he became, saturating his mind, his body. Becoming a plaything for someone else…. The Officer.
“Oh sheriff, please come in? What has got you goin door to door checking in on us? Something happen?” The way he spoke sounded slightly cautious, maybe Jim actually was nervous, or more likely, he wanted to seem innocent even though he had no crime other than jaywalking that he had committed.
“Suspicious activity, something about strangers being spotted lurking around peoples houses, just coming by, asking what everyone has seen or heard. If they have seen or heard anything?” he walks in, moving right into the living room. He looks out the windows, pulling the blinds apart like he's looking for something, or someone. Jim is offset by all of this, maybe he should be more cautious, maybe he should be worried about something. Why would the sheriff be looking around like that?
The Sheriff quickly scratched the back of his neck, exposing his underarm, releasing a quick, strong blast of his musk discombobulating Jim. His mind is unable to focus, still nervous. He would just put that energy elsewhere, ramble, yes he would ramble!
“Not able to say much, I mean I feel like if there was someone skulking around Ruth or Gladys, our lesbian old lady neighbors would have brought it up to us,or said something. I mean you know how nosey old women are right? They watch from their windows and porches, like to talk gossip . I mean maybe they even called you?” he was word vomiting, Marshall took this time to find the recliner, one that Jim’s dad used to sit in. His legs spreading wide apart, Crotch on full display, bulging out of his tight uniform. His arms rested easily.
Jim wasn’t expecting that, he was taken aback, his word vomit caught in his throat as something he wouldn’t touch was commandeered by basically a stranger… Not a stranger, it was the sheriff, maybe he was tired and he just needed a rest…. Maybe? That was out of nowhere for the young man to think. Why would he argue with himself?
“It wasn’t a call from them, several other residents I’m not able to reveal or identify made the complaints and comments, I'm just here doing my job, come sit, lets talk this through!” His voice lies so easily, like second nature and as Marshall points to the floor beneath him when he says sit. His finger feels just as authoritative as his voice, his eyes, his entire demeanor. More so with everything added together but Jim wasn’t some dog, he wasn’t a kid, he definitely wasn’t the sheriff’s kid. This was all just a little bit weird. No matter how aggressively heavy the musk in the area was, or how … intriguing he found the attractive man… attractive where did that come from.
“I’m fine standing Marshal, can we make this brief, I'm starving!” It's not a question, he is trying to make this more informal, offset this status quo that was just created. Rushing him out, calling him by his name, not officier, not sir.
That upsets the sheriff, “it all started so smoothly” he thinks “I mean the idiot freely welcomed him in, none of the neighbors were watching, his family wouldn’t be home anytime soon. Hell the slight push in his mind, and the deep heavy thick musk didn’t cause any fuss, he was already so openly pliable, did the officer misstep? Was sitting in something that boy defined as his fathers too much and made him start questioning everything?” All of these thoughts were popping in the Transformers mind. Would his time of prepping and planning for this be a waste and he’d have to discard this boy and erase his memory of his encounter?
Sheriff Marshall was special, he and his family for generations have held not just political or social power. No, they held magical power, influence over the ancient horny magics that make up our world. Primordial, lustful and unstoppable especially in the hands of an experienced caster, and the sheriff was experienced, he held this town in a firm grip, morphing and changing its people into his perfect playthings. Sometimes just a slight adjustment to the criminals, of course if he wanted to change them for the better…. But that change had to come with something sexual otherwise the magic wouldn’t do it. It’s why the town they all lived in had such a high density of queer people.
Whether it was attaching manners, proper ways of speaking and attitude to amazing blowjobs and an addiction to cocks, or with keeping their hands only to themselves unless they were pleasing a man who demanded respect. They were all sexual, its the only way his magic could function or work, trust him he tried at first to do without. But at the end of the day the changes worked how they worked, and it was lonely doing it on his own, Samuel Marshall needed help, he needed a son and that's exactly what he was going to get today! By pure unadulterated horny force.
“Brief? There's nothing brief about this! Now be a GOOD BOY and SIT!” The words echo in the air, a strange heat, a PULSE rakes through Jim’s body, his mind shuddering as he feels the need to listen, to obey! The word GOOD BOY banging around in his head, making it feel good to do that, he should always listen to those in charge, and who was more in charge then a sheriff? He goes to do what the officer said, but he doesn’t follow where the man's meaty hand is pointing, he sits down on the couch. This makes the Sheriff mad, his face fully grimacing, disappointment clear, his fingers snap before Jim has a chance to speak, to ask what’s going on.
“I said BE A GOOD BOY AND SIT!” As he yells this, his pointing finger glows and so does Jim’s forehead, that heat from before rises, becoming unbearable. His mind aching and burning as he feels his body, not in his own control, slump to the floor, landing him right at the officer’s boot! Musk flowing through the air encouraging this obedience, fueling this pulsing burning. His face right next to it, it feels so much better to listen, Jim’s cock starts to get hard just doing that but his mind, his face, all say a different story. Wide eyes, staring up at the man commanding him in fear and worry. Those words now loudly echo in his brain, bouncing around in his mind and where they land they plant roots that slowly take over. His cock now leaking precum in his slacks as he feels both terrified and aroused.
“What… how? Why can’t I move?” He manages to ask but The Sheriff just shooshes him, the silence settles over his lips before he knows it. His body, his lips listening, obeying LIKE A GOOD BOY. it makes him grind his hips against the floor, moaning and humming in pleasure. He was acting like some horny dog humping the floor in heat, unable to stop himself from getting off on this insane situation. He needed to remember who he was, what he was attracted to, big, massive MUSCLES AND HAIR.
“Don’t worry about that little head of yours, it won't matter to you in a bit! I want to thank you for COMING OVER TO MY PLACE. It has EVERYTHING WE NEED FOR A GOOD TIME!” As he says the words the townhouse they're in starts to melt away, quickly rebuilding itself into the officer’s manor. His family’s generational home, seeped in magic and horny debauchery. No longer a middle class homey living room, now in the middle of a robust study, with books lining the walls, a fireplace waiting to roar with flames and Jim's face deep in an ornate rug with the cops boot right above his face. This was much more private, with how much moaning and groaning Jimmy would be doing they needed it, now the fun could really begin.
“Now hand me your ID. I wanna make sure we're getting this right!” His hands move on their own, going into his back pocket, taking his wallet out and holding it up for the gruffer man to grab. Again obeying sent a thrill through his body, a deep heat pulsing making his grinding get faster. It makes Sheriff Marshallsmirk as he sees it take root. He snatches the wallet, pulling the ID unceremoniously and discarding the rest of the contents to the floor. He looks at it over hemming and hawing, the entire time jim is unable to look away. The longer he stares at this man, this pinnacle of masculinity, of authority. The harder he finds it to look away.
He has always been straight, never even once questioning it in his mind. Sure he could tell guys were attractive or physically intriguing but he would never give them a second glance. But his eyes stuck on Samuel Marshall, the boner that refused to go down while he listened and obeyed him AND the drool falling from his lips made it clear something was different. There was something about the broad beefy shoulders, the deliciously big, bulging slabs of pectorals and strapping biceps that made the fabric of his uniform stretch that made the formerly straight office worker…. Horny.
Then you take in the exposed body and facial hair. Jimmy had never been into hair on women, it was gross, too masculine. But the idea of it rubbing against him, scratching his skin as the Sheriff grabbed him by the sides of his head and pulled him into a deep all consuming kiss… WHAT THE FUCK WAS HE THINKING..... His massive forearms and meaty hands held him just right, pressing deeply against his body as he fully surrendered and melted into the stronger, better man. THE IDEA OF HIS HANDS MOVING LOWER DOWN HIS BACK, LIGHTLY PALMING HIS ASS BEFORE GRIPPING BOTH CHEEKS! That thought alone snaps some sense into Jim… his ass? He had never even thought of it in a sexual way. He tried to beg the man to stop, plead with the handsome gruff DADDY but all his words came out as a muffled mumble or moan.
“Oh dear, Jim Henderson, age 26, only five foot six, seems like you were made to be a runt!” His voice sounds so disappointed, that hurts more then the things he said, you don’t want to disappoint him.
“No worries though, we're gonna fix you right up SON!” The word hits you like a brick through a window. Your mind breaking in fractal patterns as his musk, so much stronger down at his feet, overwhelms you. SON? SON? But Jim had a dad, this man couldn’t be his DADDY. No matter how much he wanted to submit to him. To feel him explore every aspect of his body, his beard tickling his face, neck and all the way down to his ass as this DADDY peppers his body in kisses. The thought alone is crazy but Jim’s mind latches onto it.
“There’s that light struggle, let's fix that first. SON, LICK MY BOOTS CLEAN! Each lap of that tongue is going to cause that pathetic resilience to slip away till nothing is left!” His body moved on its own, his pants and underwear absolutely already ruined from the amount of precum he was leaking, the weird gay fantasies he was having and all the obeying, now… now it was like he was right on the edge as he moved his face to start licking the Sheriff’s boots. They weren’t filthy, but after a long day on patrol they had dirt, dust and grime. He tried to hold himself back. His neck and shoulders were tight, tense but eventually that familiar MUSK and PULSE overwhelmed his will.
The way he was nose and mouth first to Marshall's shoe made the cop laugh. Jim's face had the look of disgust as he took long licks across the leather, his mind numbing with each one, throat wanting to gag as he did it. It made Samuel frown, a bit of anger rising, I guess his boy would need more initial changes then he thought. The taste of his hard work should get the boy going, not gagging.
“That's it Son, keep licking, every speck you clean off my boot with your tongue, the hornier it makes you. The hornier you are, the more eager you are to clean my boots with your tongue, it’s YOUR FAVORITE THING!” The words echo and bounce, Jimmy’s licking becomes feverish, his hands moving on their own accord grabbing onto one of marshall’s legs to pull the boot closer. The small parts of him that remain, the parts that are shrinking and breaking rapidly try to pull away but its no use. After his left boots clean he dives into the right, mouth gently kissing the boot before making out with it.
With the resilience gone, the next thing to naturally go was Jimmy's overly complicated, boring life. Unfulfilled relationships, boring sex with women and a terrible job. Replaced now with deep seated daddy issues, a need to please and serve his father. The idea of older hotter men dominating him and a deep addiction to musk that would never leave him. But so much had to be connected together, so many empty voided spots in his mind demanded to be filled and magic had a way of doing it.
It's crazy how the mind, when something gets lodged into it, will suddenly start making new connections. Little Jimmy here was told he would LOVE cleaning the boots, every speck making him horny, that it be his favorite thing. But kinks, obsessions, really anything SPREADS once its lodged deep into the psyche. Now Jimmy can’t help but wonder if worshipping his new Daddy’s feet will feel just as good if not better then the shoes. If the musk, this naturally masculine, heavenly odor coming from his true superior will always taste this good, and what every part of him will taste like. Images of his face being shoved into the boots, forced to take in that ripe scent till its all he can smell inside and out, the socks being shoved into his open mouth to silence him when they’re fucking in public.
“God you really are meant to be my boy” Marshall snaps his fingers and suddenly Jimmy stops his worship, mind and body waiting for his new instructions.
“Here comes my favorite part, see if you're going to be my son, you gotta look and act the part, so lets change these details here BOY!” Marshall pokes at the ID repeatedly before throwing it on the ground. He stands up, picking his prize right off the floor after, his arms underneath his boys. A small pulse emanating from them, the clothes Jim was wearing slowly turned to ash leaving him in nothing. The sheriff looks him up and down, taking as he does, circling him like a shark does prey.
He already knows he wants him taller, a loud snap is heard as suddenly Jimmy’s legs elongate, his arms become more gangly, his torso stretches higher. His spine snaps and pops till he’s at a solid six foot. His weight makes him look like a tall skinny nerd, something that would have to be remedied very soon.
The boy's ramrod cock is nice, just about six inches hard but it could be bigger. But the rest of him is average or below. Skinny fat, average height and average face. Jimmy wasn’t someone people could pick out in a crowd, or remember in the back of their mind. This would all change, no one would be able to forget who he was. The boys eyes tried to follow his daddy, mouth openly drooling as he looked the sheriff up and down waiting for his next order. Waiting for the final parts of himself to be consumed, to be recreated into his daddy’s perfect son.
The sheriff moves in, his hands go to the boy's torso, rubbing up and down the sides of Jimmy. As his hands trail past where his love handles were, they were still there somewhat, just less obvious. Jimmy can’t help but moan as his body pulses and the fat on his mid section starts to melt off of him. As his mouth opens, the sheriff moves his own onto his son, claiming his mouth. It's passionate, it's fiery, it's all consuming, taking the leftover parts of the old him, making more room for changes and filling him with a new need, an addiction for his new father.
As the younger Jimmy slowly starts to give up, give in his body starts to age, slight wrinkles appear on the skin as he goes from 26, to 27. Then at 28 his hair starts to thin a little, The Sheriff’s hands briefly make their way up and with a quick comb of his fingers it shortens further into a military crop. At 29 as they pull a way to breathe, both men panting, strings of saliva still connecting their lips, Jim's lips plump up, his face restructuring, his jaw line becoming sharper, more angular like some comic book super hero. His nose went from button like to incredibly strong, wider. His eyes became this perfect green and his brow bone extended giving him the final touches to make him look like a dumb ex jock turned cop! When he finally hit 30 Jimmy lunged his own mouth at his new fathers, his hands grabbing the sides of his dad's face to pull him in for a kiss. So eager to feel his lips, his tongue again.
Samuel pushes more magic into his son, his hands trailing his body leaving a smattering of hair, his chest exploding with muscles becoming perfect slabs of meat. His shoulders broadening, back tensing as they become over developed. His biceps bulge, arms getting stronger and more vascular as the kiss heats up. His new meaty hands unbuckling his fathers belt in a frenzy, eyes closed totally lost to lust. His son's new torso firm's up, a six pack of abs cobbling themselves together before leading down to cum gutters that make any faggot swoon looking at him. He was incredibly top heavy now, barely standing up straight, Officer Marshall would have to remedy this next with his favorite part.
It's when it gets to his son's cock and ass that Samuel Marshall breaks the kiss, one hand grabbing at his ass the other gripping his cock. He looks at this younger version of himself he has started to create, a hungry wolf's grin, he already gave him a kink for worshipping his boots, accidentally created one for worshipping his feet and musk. Now he has made him addicted to him and older, it was time to tie arousal to his father, pleasing and worshipping him and of changing the people of this town. He would be just like his new father, dedicated to protecting and serving… just not the community. Serving their kinkiest, horniest fantasies. To make him more similar he’d have to give jimmy a new name
“That's it boy, whimper moan and beg, you can feel it LITTLE SAMMY!, that need in those thick delicious deputy cheeks of yours. A need, a hunger for me and my cock!” The new name hits him hard and fast. If he really was going to be Samuel Marshall’s son, his mini me,then they should share a name right? It's a piece of information that completes the fantasy. Then his father’s fingers dig into his son’s tight ass. Magic pulsing through it making what little fat and muscle the previous office worker had jiggle. Pounds of muscles and fat pour into him, nerve endings get incredibly sensitive, and his once virgin hole starts to wink and become uncontrollably hungry. Until nothing but a hungry irresistible bubble butt.
Officer Marshall moves behind his son, quickly snapping his fingers and his own clothing dematerializing. A heavy twelve inch cock springs free leaking pre, slapping against the newly minted ass. Wedging itself against the cleft of his son’s cheek, grinding in seesaw motions as both hands grip the above average penis on Sammy Jr. The boy cant help but whine and moan, thrusting and grinding back causing his cock to fuck his dad’s hands.
“Oh you're almost there, you're almost perfect, those thighs are catching up to your ass quick, must be all those squats I made you do!” He can’t help but laugh and tease, Sammy’s whining and moaning getting more animalistic, his thighs packing on muscle, his thrusting getting stronger as it does, his calves are next as they carved themselves into perfect diamonds and then his feet become insanely wide size 13’s. It only hits The Master Transformer Sammuel Marshall now that he made his boy shut up and never let go of it, he lets go of that command and immediately his son is a moaning mess.
“PLEASE, DADDY… DADDY MAKE ME PERFECT, MAKE ME JUST LIKE… fuck your hands feel so good! IM SO CLOSE… MAKE ME LIKE YOU!” His voice is panting and yelling as he keeps fucking himself stupid, his hole being teased, unable to get the head of his fathers cock in there yet.
“All you had to do was ask son!” Sheriff Marshall pulses his son’s cock, with each gliding, pre covered stroke it begins to lengthen from six inches till its a massive 12, his balls, so tight so heavy are begging for release as they drop down to heavy bull nuts, filled with literally all of Jim’s previous life, the memory of him across the universe. It was all ready and waiting to be spewed out in load after load of cum but his father wanted the moment to be big. His son’s eyes go rolling back, on the verge, the edge, he steps back, leaving his son’s cock hands free before positioning his own.
His massive flared head slowly, effortlessly pushes into his son’s eager waiting hole. His eyes somehow going further back as the biggest, bestest (only) dick he has ever had slowly glides into him. Samuel Marshall Seniors hands are no longer stroking the dripping, drooling cock of his son, no they are firmly wrapped around his waist so he can control this. So he can control him. As each inch painstakingly glides into his son parts of his magic start to solidify. An entire life built around debauchery, sex and twisted love blossoms. As he gets to the halfway point, six inches he can’t help but stop, his son tries to thrust back but he won’t let him. He’s begging pleading
“Is this the point of no return, are you ready son? To be mine forever?” The questions are redundant, it's not his choice, not anymore. His mind has been scrambled beyond repair, forever craving his new dad’s cock, his cum, his musk and muscles. But he wanted to hear his boy say it, for him to give in to the horny, musky magic that had corrupted him. All of that affects the words that manage to make it out from his perfect dick sucking lips (Officer Marshall would have to use those later).
“Fuck me, please, yes, yes I’m yours… yours forever and ever!” In that moment of release, of giving up ever going back, The Sheriff releases his son's waist and feels him slam himself all the way back into his crotch. Taking his massive girthy dick like it was a sword going into a sheath. His son’s bubble butt recoiling from the force as they both let out moans. But Sammy junior is far from done, he slowly, gripping the closest thing to balance himself starts to pull off before slamming back again. Screaming yes daddy over and over again as he starts to jack hammer up and down on his father’s cock.
This was getting Sheriff close, he probably only had a minute before his sons tight, warm boy pussy milked him of all his cum he quickly made it so his son went to the academy, that he was his deputy, that they were inseparable.
“Fuck I love riding you, love sucking you… god I lOvE YOUU Daddy!” Sammy jr’s voice is hysterical as his brain is flooded with so many chemicals and magic. Both men are thrusting now, meeting each other in perfect rhythm. Breathless as they lose track of themselves, of time. It all comes to a head when The sheriff’s hands move from his son’s waist, one hand spanking his beautiful muscular ass shouting fuck your mine, your all mine, the other grabbing onto his shoulder.
Neither of them can hold it in, The sheriff shoots first, with one final thrust load after load fills his son’s tight warm hole. He loses count at six, his son isn’t far behind, his eyes fully glazed over, dumb dopey look pl;aster on his face as he shoots all of his prior existence onto the floor. His orgasm makes his hole squeeze around his daddy’s massive fuckstick, milking more and more from him toll both men fall down on the closest piece of furniture, exhausted, Sammy junior easily falling asleep whimpering as his father slowly pulls out.
Sheriff Marshall stands up, looking at his above average, thirty year old, six foot son. The perfect specimen, a younger him who shared his name, his views and most importantly his appetite. Tonight was successful, filled to the brim with fun, but there would be so much more for them to do together later. With a wave of his hands their bodies are cleaned up, so is the study, a tight fitting police uniform appears neatly folded on the desk for his son to find in the morning.
(Samuel Jr)
The rest of the night he would spend in his room, away from temptation, to recoup his energy and make sure he had enough tomorrow to teach Samuel Marshall Jr how to properly use his new lineage’s power. There’s very little the two of them would be stumped by in the future, and if things go really well, maybe the marshall family could expand outside their small town and into the city nearby. That could use plenty of cleaning up, so many young men misbehaving, needing to be CORRECTED by their strong musk and ancient horny magics.
Hey! So, my family has always told me I have a ‘well developed masculine and feminine side’. They say it likes it’s a good thing but… I’ve always felt like I’m stuck between two worlds. I’m too manly to be a hot twink, too feminine to be a hot alpha jock. So, I was wondering… what if you split me in two? Give my masculine side a body and my feminine side a body. Then instead of being one loser, I’d be two awesome people! What do you think?
Wow it turns out your feminine side is well, very feminine. I don't think he's ever going to be able to fuck with that dick.
When I split you he very quickly dropped to the floor started to pout. It's very clear that he's just a hole for men to use and abuse.
Slim and lightweight. Perfect to lift up and bounce on a real man's cock. Those lips were definitely designed to be wrapped around a nice thick shaft too.
Your masculine side? Well wow... That's a real man. Full of heft and testosterone. A proper breeding bull some might say.
That beard will definitely please many twink holes in preparation for a rough fuck.
Those tits too! Perfect for a bottom to hold onto.
Strong, hairy, and of course a fat cock to go with it. I have to say they're probably a good match.
It didn't take long for your two halves to realise their compatibility. Your masculine side has already sunk three loads into your feminine side's fertile hole and he's begging for more.
Reblogging the post which inspired me to make this blog! HornyJockAlt is my account and I was thrilled that my suggestion was taken. I always love seeing jock transformation stuff and now I’m going to try make some myself!
All Jake wanted in life was to live in a mansion and get ripped. If he could spend all day at the gym as his job, that’s what he’d do. It was stupid to need a degree in order to get hired as an athletic coach. His degree was his body. Giant arms, massive chest. He’d still head to workout after spending all day at his blue collar job.
At least, until the layoffs. Jake got his wish to spend all day at the gym, ignoring that he no longer had a source of income. That’s when things started to go downhill. He started selling his things to make rent, only to fall short and end up kicked out. He could still live in his car, his gym membership providing showers. Even then, his wardrobe was reduced to dirty gym clothes, yellowed shoes, stuff he never found time to wash.
Jake told his story to anyone who would listen. It was how people learned to avoid him during their own workouts, which was hard with Jake there all day.
Then Jake met Rich. Rich had intentionally gone up to Jake, asking for help, for coaching. Jake couldn’t have been happier, hoping to maybe make some money on the side. At the end of the session, Jake started his sob story. Rich listened, seeming to understand. By the end, Rich wanted to help. He offered Jake a place to stay to help get on his feet. Jake took the offer immediately.
They drove to Rich’s address. Jake wound through a well-off neighborhood, ending up on a long driveway leading to the kind of mansion Jake had always wanted to live in. Rich was there to greet him with a smile, letting Jake in to see the mable floors, giant windows, and bring Jake to his room.
That was when Rich shared the next requirement for living there. Rich was a psychotherapist, whatever that meant, and Rich wanted to help Jake out of his situation. All Jake needed to do was sit and listen, which was fine by him. Jake watched Rich’s hands before him, his gaze setting into a deadpan stare as his mind began to shut itself off from boredom. He wasn’t paying attention to what was being said, only responding to the simple orders. Look down. Left. Up. Right. Sleep.
Jake woke with his skin pressed against cold hard tile, all clothing removed aside from two articles- his yellowed shoes and a jockstrap he’d never seen before. His ape-like body was on fully display, arms as thick as his calves holding up his massive shoulders, his rear wrapped in elastic with his ass pointing out. His entire lower-half was shaved, maybe even waxed with not a hair visible. His hole felt slippery for some reason. His lower body felt rubbery as he walked, his two ass cheeks moving like clean soap bars rubbing against eachother.
Walking meant moving on all-fours, right? Jake couldn’t recall it ever being any different, the weight on his knuckles naturally arching his back.
“Who’s a good boy?” Jake heard from the corner of the room, his head turning to see his owner.
Jake was certain he had known this man’s name before. Despite this, the only words that came to describe him were ‘master’, 'handler’, 'sir’.
The man walked over to Jake, naked, bone in direct line of sight.
“Who wants a treat?”
Something shut off in Jake’s mind when his eyes connected with the dangling piece of meat. He didn’t think twice about shuffling over, eyes empty, mouth dropped open to let a drop of saliva hit the floor. Waves of conditioned happiness rolled through his body as he brought his tongue out to get a taste, the rest of his mouth wrapping around the soft piece of flesh and going to work.
Edward just finished his phone call and rubbed his eyes with frustration, the deal was supposed to have gone through but something had spooked his clients and now they were dragging their feet. Edward has spent months, working long nights and days to get everything right and close the biggest business deal of his career, but now it could all be over and all the stress, hard work and dedication would be for nothing. Suffice to say Edward look stressed as he walked along the beach, hoping the sea air would help clear his thoughts and calm him down he walked in a hurry. That's when he was approached and a cold, pink can was waved in front of him.
"Hello Sir. Would you care to try our new drink 'Big Bubbles'. It's big peach flavour, combined with its big fizz leaves customers smiling, happy and so satisfied that they can barely think about anything else!"
The man in front of Edward holding the can was gorgeous, his smile was effortless, his eyes bright, his jaw defined, his hair with perfect curls and a muscular body that made Edward envious. If he wasn't wearing such a ridiculous pink uniform, Edward would have sworn he was a model. Finding the man's handsome face and body a little intimidating Edward's eyes fell to the can held towards him and then to the little cart packed with similar rows of the drink. The lewd peach logo and garish pink instantly put Edward off, Edward put his hand up to decline but the man from Big bubbles continued to hold out the can and speak.
"You look stressed sir, here take it! No charge." The man smiled and even though Edward was straight he found himself a little flustered.
"Er, Thank you young man. That's very kind of you." Edward mumbled and took the can as he would feel like an ass if he declined a free drink.
"No problem sir! And if you like it please promise to come back and see me for more!" The man smiled gleefully, his demeanour polite and warm, the perfect sales representative.
Edward took the cool can of Big Bubbles and started walking, it was a hot day and perhaps the taste would take his mind off things. Edward opened the can and the sweet scent of peach wafted out with a fizz. Edward then gingerly took a sip as he continued walking alongside the beach. The man had been right about the big flavours and fizz as the bubbly sugary drink coated his taste buds. The taste was almost too sweet but the cool temperature of the peachy liquid was just too refreshing to stop drinking it, so Edward continued to sip at it as he walked.
Edward found his mind going in circles as he went through all the ways he could save his business deal or the mitigating things he could do to so that his hard work was not all for nought. However, as he walked he found it harder and harder to focus on the stress of his deal, the future seemed too far away to think about and instead he found himself looking to the beach and thinking about taking a swim. Edward shook his head and stopped, he took the last sip of his drink and placed it on the low wall beside him and rubbed his eyes again, trying to focus. Edward knew that he should be thinking about ways to convince his clients to proceed, to think of other strategies to make his money back or other potential clients he could sell to at a discounted rate but his brain refused to proceed any further down those trails of thought. Edward was starting to worry as suddenly his body started to get hot.
Edward quickly took off his jacket and pulled at his collar in an attempt to reduce the overheating his body was going through but, the warmth only seemed to increase as he body started to sweat. Edward started to panic, was he ill? He looked around him but found no one near, he was just about to reach for his phone when his whole body tightened and a sudden euphoric surge raced through his whole body from his head down to his toes.
Edward's breath caught in his throat for a second as the wonderful pleasure raced across him before leaving him gasping for breath as his body started to tingle. Edward then felt all of the muscles in his body grow tight, stopping him from moving. Edward wanted to shout as his muscles kept him paralysed but his voice wouldn't respond, even when his muscles loosened. It was like Edward had tensed every muscle in his body and then relaxed them, except when he had relaxed his little belly didn't look so big, his shirt felt tighter around his arms and his feet felt cramped in his shoes.
Edward looked down at himself confused he could have sworn his belt felt tighter and the wall next to him seemed further away. Edward would have contemplated it longer if the same sudden surge of pleasure hadn't raced through his body again, causing all of his muscles to contract and then once again relax. This time Edward knew something was wrong as he looked down his belly no longer poked at his shirt and as he felt it, he didn't feel the softness he was used to. The shirt he wore was now tighter across his chest as what looked like pectoral muscles pushed against the fabric, but that was impossible. Edward had never worked out or been to the gym, yet as he looked at his shirt he could see biceps starting to push through and he felt stronger, taller, fitter. Edward shifted uncomfortably in his shoes that now felt too small and adjusted his belt to try and feel less constrained. What in the world was happening to him?!
Edward knew he needed to call for help, something was wrong and he could be in danger. Edward had always been calm in a crisis and his fast thinking meant he was great at adapting, it's what made him a great business man but as he looked down at his larger more swollen body his brain just seemed to buzz and thoughts seemed muddled. After a few seconds Edward finally went to reach for his phone in his jacket, that he has dropped after the first surge but before he could even start to bend down his whole body tensed and the euphoric waved rolled through him again.
When Edward was allowed to relax he heard the ripping of fabric as his body and his muscles grew even larger. Edward could feel his back muscles bulging, his shoulders broaden and his chest inflate. A button popped off from his shirt as his pecs grew larger and pushed outwards, while a rip formed along the back as his growing arms pushed the fabric to the limit. Edward could feel how tight his trousers were around his muscular thighs, they felt different from the chubby legs he had moments ago but still they rubbed together. Edward winced in pain as he quickly kicked off his shoes, his feet far to large to fit in them. Edward could feel the energy inside him building again, he knew he should be worried that something was wrong, he was reaching for his phone wasn't he? But something in his brain clouded again and while he knew he needed his phone to call for help, it was hard to think what he would say and what number did he need to call? Edward would have been worried about his constant blurred thoughts if he wasn't again suddenly overwhelmed with the delightful pleasure as his body tensed once again.
When Edward relaxed and he gasped for air, his deep ragged breaths were joined by the ripping of his clothes. It started when his socks burst open as he feet grew longer and larger. His trousers ripped as the fabric became too stretched as he grew taller, his legs bulkier with muscles and his thighs thicker and stronger meant the rest of his trousers were barely hanging together. Buttons popped one after the other as Edward's larger bouncy pectorals burst through, the open shirt then revealed his toned, sculpted six pack abs as well as the deep v cut. Edward tried to move his arms but it only made his shirt rip further as his hefty triceps and cannon ball biceps caused the remaining fabric of the shirt to groan. Edward's brain hurt as he struggled to comprehend what was happening to him, he was taller, stronger and bursting with muscles. Edward knew he should be scared and that he needed medical attention but a new part of him, one emerging from the cloud in his brain told him to look at his muscles more closely, to admire how big his chest was, how manly his arms were and how cool his new height was. Edward tried to focus his thoughts back to panic and fear but it was getting harder to do.
He needed help, he needed to know what was happening before the next sur-
It was too late, Edward found himself moaning in pleasure as the surge raced through his body as his new muscles contracted and then relaxed growing even further. This time his clothes stood no chance as the tattered rags fell from his body. Edward even found himself shaking off the remainder of his clothes to free himself from the restricting tightness, leaving him in only his underwear. Edward was shocked as he looked as his massive muscles, his larger broad chest and back, his massive thick as redwood tree thighs and legs, his sculpted marble abdominals and his strong, veiny biceps. He had to have grown at least a foot in height and his feet and hands had grown to match. He looked like a god amongst men and a new part of him was thrilled about it, it told him to be prideful and gleeful as he looked at the new muscles and body. Edward was more than frightened now as he shook those vain thoughts from his head, he needed to get help but how was he going to do that? He needed to work out what was going on, but who could help him? Edward knew he should know the answer to those questions but his mind kept getting lost in a fog and only returned with thoughts of his own muscular body. Edward whimpered as he looked down at his body and like a lost puppy he stood helplessly looking around for help, his own mind refusing to find the answers.
Edward's eyes then caught sight of something as he looked at his new huge body, he looked past his perky pectorals and noticed his underwear. The light peach colour was unfamiliar to him, they felt too tight and more revealing, staring down at them Edward saw the little peach logo on the side, he saw the words 'Big bubbles' emblazoned on them, this wasn't right. Edward closed his eyes and thought hard, he didn't own any underwear that colour, he had put on boxer shorts this morning, loose and airy with no words one them! They weren't his underwear! Edward then looked from his underwear to the can of peach drink sitting on the wall beside him and finally Edward made the connection through the fizzy peach fog in his brain.
It was the drink! It was responsible for his new muscles and also for his slowing brain! Edward cursed himself that it took him so long to work out what was causing the changes to his body and mind, however this only made it more urgent that he get help. Yet, a new part of his brain told him to go back to the man that had given him the drink, perhaps he could help him and change him back! Part of Edward knew that it was a foolish idea as the rest of him told him to dive into the pile of clothes and find his phone and call for help, but every time he looked down he looked at his pectorals and then he thought of the man dressed in his pink uniform and his hairy pectorals poking through his shirt. Edward knew he shouldn't but his body had already started walking, walking back to the Big Bubbles stand to get help.
Leaving his clothes, leaving his phone, leaving everything he had on him Edward started walking back to the man who had given him the can of drink.
Edward barely made it a few feet before he found himself moaning like a whore as the same surge of pleasure rushed through his body to every muscle. This time the surge was so strong it caused Edward's body to shake, throwing his glasses from his face and causing all of his muscles to ripple. Edward could feel his muscles growing again as they continued to ripple, tensing and then relaxing over and over while Edward was left standing paralysed. Edward knew something else was changing but his brain couldn't work out what.
While Edward's muscles continued to grow larger all over his body something else began to change as well. It started from the top of his body where his salt and pepper hair started to lighten, each strand becoming a vibrant bright yellow, more hair sprouted, growing his hair until it was thick and blond. Then his face began to tingle as the deep lines of age smoothed out, each wrinkle fading away as his skin was pulled taut, the youth rushing back to his features as his skin became, clear, soft and bouncy. The muscles that bulged from his body grew larger and the skin across them tightened making them seems bigger and more defined. Edward looked down and noticed just how massive his chest looked now as his perky nipples poked out from his pillowy pectorals that made it impossible to see his own feet. As Edward regressed further his skin appeared softer and more elastic, the definition of his now eight pack abs looked incredible and his arms were now so thick with muscles that they could no longer sit by his side comfortably but instead bulged outwards. His thick powerful legs so stacked with muscle would now give him a bodybuilder's waddle, while his new height left him towering over everyone. Edward found his posture straightening as the lower back pain faded away, the slight ringing in his left ear disappeared and the twinge in elbow was gone. When the rippling stopped Edward was left radiating with the body of a 21 year muscle god in his prime!
Edward's mind took a few moments to catch up as Edward felt his younger face and experienced his youth again, his first thought was sheer panic as his mouth dropped open in shock.
Edward's mind was in a frenzy, how would he continue to conduct business looking like this? How would people recognise him? How was this possible? How tall was he now? How crazy did his massive biceps look? How hot was this huge chest? Could he bounce each pectoral if he wanted? Where was a mirror so that he could flex?
Edward tried to hold on and grasp the initial, rational thoughts of panic but they were soon drowned out with admiration for his own body and soon Edward stood smiling and flexing his pecs.
Edward lost track of time as he stood and flexed his muscles, a dumb laugh would occasionally slip through as he looked at how jacked and toned he was. It was only when a passing couple looked at him strangely that his brain started to exit the fog it has been in.
Edward wanted to scream as he pulled himself out of the peachy fizzy fog that clogged his neurons and slowed his brain, this wasn't him! He was a smart, talented businessman. An experienced and respected professional not some lump of muscle that could barely string a thought together! Edward found himself closing his eyes so that he couldn't be distracted by his own muscles, the peach drink had already clouded so much of his mind that it was insanely hard to think. Knowledge of his business, his deals, his job was all lost behind the fizzy peach bubbles that filled his mind. Edward tried to focus on what to do, but it seemed that not only his business brain had been clouded. Edward struggled to think of the words he needed, he struggled remember who his friends were, what school he went to do and even why he was here on the beach! Edward just knew that he needed help that this wasn't what his body was supposed to be and he focussed on that. He was older and a businessman, he knew that fact and needed to hold onto it although he couldn't remember how old he was and what business he dealt in. Edward opened his eyes and saw his big chest and his peach underwear, 'Big Bubbles' that was where he needed to head. The man with the drinks would help him get old again! Edward started running he knew he was running out of time, he knew he wasn't as smart as before and the handsome peach man could help.
As Edward ran he was aware of a large weight bouncing behind him and his glutes started to feel tingly. Edward just found himself giggling before shaking his head and focussing on the peachy soda man and how he would turn him back. So with each big step Edward ignored the growing swelling coming from his buttocks, he was unaware that each of his cheeks has grown much, much larger. Each one ballooned with muscle and strained at the tiny peach underwear, each one wobbled and swayed with each step leaving his ass impossibly juicy, jiggly and strong. When Edward finally saw the soda man, each of his ass cheeks has grown bigger than his own head and now hung like a shelf off his lower back.
"You... have... to... help... me.." Edward shouted as he ran out of breath towards the handsome Big bubbles salesman.
"Woah slow down big guy!" The handsome soda man said calmly with a big smile on his face. "You look hot and tired, here why not have a drink to cool you down!" The man then held up another can of Big Bubbles soda towards Edward, the smile on his handsome face turning ever so slightly sinister.
Edward stopped and tried to catch his breath, he did feel hot and tired, his mouth also felt very dry, but wasn't there a reason he was coming to this man for help. Edward stood and looked at the good looking man who now seemed tiny compared to his own massive body. Edward couldn't help but compare his own boulder like biceps to the soda man's, they looked so small. Edward couldn't help but flex his arms and smile. Why did he need that man's help when he was already way more muscular than him? Edward fought hard against the fog in his brain but he found himself losing ground, he wasn't here to get help about his muscles from the man, he needed help for another reason. Edward was screaming at the back of his mind, through the growing fog that he needed his body back, he needed his smarts, he needed his life back but each shout became nothing back a dull whisper as his body just stared at the man holding the can of soda in front of him. Edward started screaming wildly in a frenzy in a desperate hope that his body would understand and do the right thing. IT'S THE DRINK THAT CAUSED IT! IT'S THE DRINKS FAULT! IT'S THE DRINK! DRINK! DRINK!DRINK! The peachy fizzy cloud quickly engulfed Edward's mind as the last echoes of his voice reached his consciousness.
"It's the drink! I need a drink!" Edward's body said proudly while his mind screeched 'NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO'.
Edward's enormous mitt grabbed the can and opened it with ease and poured the sweet fizzy liquid down his throat quenching his thirst and causing the peachy bubbles to fully engulf his mind. The peachy fog drowned out Edward and drowned out all of his thoughts until only basic, simple ones could survive. Edward's face fell slack as all intelligence drained from his eyes and soon a thin layer of drool started to drip from his lips. The familiar surge of euphoria then raced through his muscles and caused his monstrous body to shudder and let out a dumb chuckle. The soda salesman could only smile with glee as he watched Edward's chest and ass swell with an enormous bloat of muscle. His ass cheeks grew into round plump globes the size of beach balls, each one barely contained by his big bubbles underwear, while his pecs grew just as large if not bigger. The two massive muscles hanging from his chest soon dominated his whole physique, becoming impossible to ignore even for Edward who found himself bouncing them to amuse himself.
"There now don't you feel better. " The salesman said patting his new mascot on the back "Now you stand there and pop those pecs and tell everyone how great Big Bubbles is, can you do that big guy?"
Edward's mind was so slow that it took a minute for him to smile a respond. "Big Bubbles is the best, look at my big bouncy breasts!" Edward sung loudly and dumbly attracting the attention of a couple of gay men.
"Good boy! Now keep it up and you can drink as much as you want." The salesman said before turning to his new customers, while Edward stood and wiggled his fat butt and bounced his big himbo tits, while not a single thought swirled around in his fizzy peachy brain.
Okay things I learned, it's not just Mikey, whatever is happening is STILL happening and it affected my teacher, but only seemed to happen when we were fully alone? I don’t know, I just know I can’t be alone, I can't go back to my room and no matter how badly i want to turn my phone on I can't because Mikey is absolutely still texting me and I will cave. I know that because its what I want to be doing, and I want to be on my knees for the professor.. Fuck fuck what the fuck.
The worst part, is its getting harder to remember things from before this, how I was, what I was like, what mikey and the professor were like. Like i thought good.. I mean i was a good student but now I vividly remember servicing teachers to get through classes. I don’t remember Mikey’s old name, or his girl… beard. I just remember being a slut, a faggot. I was so deep in thought I didn’t know where I was walking, where I was going, I was just following the flow of the students and it led me to like the worst place.
The gym. The last place i needed or wanted to be, i hated this place it was filled with neanderthals… big, sweaty, musky men who only could think about LIFTING, FUCKING, BREEDINg… god no don’t get hard. But it was hard, and I was walking in. walking all the way to the locker room no matter how hard I tried to stop myself, turn around or get out I strided forward, looking for an empty locker to put my bag in.
There were plenty of people in here though at least.. At least god theres only three. Okay i guess thats enough that was a good sign, less likely to cause some violent transformation on some poor guy if were around more people. It was these two dumb jocks infront of the mirrors in here, their phones propped up on the sinks to get them both in frame. Then some poor twig of a twink looking at them from his locker. I felt bad for them, maybe I could flirt with the twink make his day, seems like he wasn’t my type so I should be good to fuck was he now staring at me. Okay I guess I have to talk with him now.
But sadly…. Luckily as I scanned these men, the plans I had to stay cock obsessed free were ruined. The room grew quiet, not even the dumb jocks laughing. The twink I had just made eye contact with seemed to seize. His body going perfectly rigid and still as the towel he had precariously tied around his waist fell. The jocks were frozen, in some dumb bicep poses, eyes glazed over and wide. I could feel this hum, this pulse followed by that heady fog encapsulating me. BEFORE SPREADING TO THE WHOLE ROOM. no no no no no NO NO NO there were multiple GUYS WHO NEEDED TO BREED ME!!! No this thing is getting stronger… fuck… they need to be bigger, stronger.
I could feel my body move on its own again, my hands slowly lowering my shortshorts exposing my jock covered ass as I went up to the twink, whatever insane power was possessing me was getting stronger, faster at changing us. My hands went underneath his armpits before pulling him up high. But instead of feeling any resistance or lifting his feet up off the ground, he grew from five foot six to a gangly six feet. His body now stretched thin. My new magical hands couldn’t help but pour muscle and a little bit of fat onto his frame. The curse did the rest filling in gaps making a breeder hunk out of this twink.
“Fuck look at this slut. Coming into the locker room prepared!” The jock feeling up my chest says. His hands get rougher, fully tugging on them now, they feel bigger, less dextrous and more meaty. His voice is even deemper, dumber, growls leaving his lips as finally he moves one of his hands top pull my head back and spit in my mouth.
“God his hole is already lubed to bro!” The other dumb jock says, his finger sneaking its way into my hole, easily sinking in. before I can fully moan or respond I feel my head shoved into the other pit of this adonis I had created. I end up moaning into this former twink, my tongue coming out of my mouth to lick his pit clean.
“Fuck we have to fuck him, i can’t wait anymore!” One of them says, I can feel that guy sneak another finger into my hole, finger blasting me, god I was getting close, i could feel my balls pulling in tight.
“First dibs on his ass, I’m already fingering it!”
“Fine but I get this mouth since numbskull here already got a tongue down!” My ass immediately loses the fingers, my head is pulled off of the adonis and my body is put on all fours in a matter of seconds. Its disorienting but I don’t worry because I see three cocks hanging above me, the dumb jocks on either end of me, getting ready to thrust in at the same time as the adonis slowly strokes his cock, watching me with a cocky smirk as I wait, eyes glazed over and tongue out on all fours like a good boy.
When i feel them thrust into me, my vision goes pure white, each man sinking all the way down till their groins meet my ass and face. Their pubes pressing against me, my body recoiling from the force. Pleasure spiking across my body as i cum load after lad and I feel this wave, this unstoppable wave release out of me. All the men in the room enter this frenzy till the only thing I can remember is cock and cum.
_________________
Part 4 (The conclusion) to Getting Bred is coming Tuesday! if you Want access to more horny writing sooner join the Patreon and Kofi Members get access first seeing it on discord with the first paid tier of $5 usd! They also are gonna get to vote on future free stories and captions!!
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Wanting monogamy wasn’t a bad thing, hell I have had plenty of monogamous relationships. BUT I drew the line at using one of my spells to ma
here's a caption Ive been trying to post! if you guys want early access to all my works join the patreon discord!!! You also get to vote on the next months captions!
I could use the extra support rn but also take care of yourselves guys okay!!
“Ok bro, you weren’t kidding about your cardio routine.” Brian dropped his gym bag on the floor, kicking off his shoes. “I feel like I could collapse at any second.”
David chuckled. “Couch is over there, make yourself at home.”
David removed his own shoes as Brian stumbled into the living room and collapsed onto the sectional. Brian was shirtless, a thick sheen of sweat covering his body. David did not mind that it was probably soaking into the couch; he too was covered in his own layer of salt.
While both were over six feet and of similar builds, David was surprised when Brian had started up a conversation between the two of them. Being as muscular as he was–though not as bulky as Brian–David had always classified himself as more of a boy-next-door type. Brian though was a true gym rat through and through, eager and jockish in every respect. So when David eventually explained his rigorous cardio routine to him, Brian had taken it upon himself to join David as a challenge.
“Brooooo…” Brian moaned, kicking his long legs out onto the coffee table. “I don’t know if I’m going to be able to get back up.”
“I’ll let my girlfriend know,” David rolled his eyes, approaching the scene. “She’s coming over in an hour or so, but you’re welcome to stick around.”
“A girlfriend?” This piqued Brian’s interest. “How long have you two been going out?”
“A couple of years now. It’ll be three in October.”
“Dang!” Brian readjusted into a manspread, placing one foot on the ground and the other right out in front of David. “Be honest, is the sex good?”
David, immediately flustered. “What! Dude, you can’t ask me that.”
“Oh c’mon, it’s just us bros,” Brian said.
David looked down, his eyes landing on the coffee table. “I’m not gonna answer that.”
“Ok, ok,” Brian surrendered a bit, scrunching his toes. A small waft of his foot funk was released up into the air. “Can you at least tell me if she’s got a good rack?
David remained silent, his eyes trained on Brian’s foot. He had not realized how big Brian’s feet were.
“Looking at you I’m guessing you could score something good,” Brian continued. “Definitely a B, maybe even a C?”
“D,” David answered, softly lowering himself to the floor. He wanted to get a better look at Brian’s feet. Why was he so curious about another man’s feet? Why did he want to know how big they were? Why did he want to know how they smelled?
“D!” Brian remarked, not paying attention to the scene unfolding on the other end of the coffee table. He wiggled his toes again. “Dang bro, you have game!”
“The sex is amazing too,” David blurted. Brian’s feet looked so soft. They were so meaty, so welcoming. And as David drew closer, his nose began to register their funk too. It was pungent, sour even.
“You’re kidding!” Brian groaned. “I’m so jealous of you man. I feel like I’ve just been tossing chicks back and forth and have yet to find one that’ll stick. I hope you know how good you’ve got it.”
Brian then flexed his foot subconsciously. It was a small movement, but enough to dilate David’s pupils. Thoughtlessly, David leaned forward, taking a tentative sniff. Like a drug, the inhale instantly triggered every nerve in David’s body, alighting him with pleasure.
Eventually, Brian registered that the conversation had become one-sided. He turned to face David, but was startled to find his new buddy at his foot, his eyes bloodshot.
“Fuck!” It was too late. Before Brian could pull his foot away, David’s face plunged into his giant sole, his tongue dragging across every curve and gathering every glob of sweat and cheese. Brian should have been more cautious, he always got too chill when he was with his bros. He had really been enjoying his time with David, even if it had been short. But now Brian had blown it, and he watched as the familiar consequences of his actions played out.
It always started with the height first, removing inch after inch from Brian’s latest mistake. Typically, the poor victim would end up under the average male height. Brian watched as David shrunk before his foot, aptly fitting his estimation. Then came the muscle drain. It was painful to watch anyone lose their physique, especially a seemingly all-around good guy like David. But there was nothing Brian could do to prevent David from losing his jock status and becoming nothing more than a scrawny beta.
The last phase was the worst though: the conversion. During his teenage years, Brian had not thought of his feet as special by any means. Sure they were large–Size 15 to be exact–but what other high school athlete did not have big smelly feet? Brian soon discovered though that his feet had a “fagnotizing” power to them, transforming their victims into smaller, weaker, homosexual versions of themselves. It first happened to his childhood best friend Alex (Lexi), then a few guys on the football team (Nick to Nico, James to Jamie, Michael to Milo), and then some accidental strangers through college (Skylar, Luca, Zeke, Finn).
Brian had gotten better at keeping his dogs housed in recent years, but every now and then he slipped up like he just had. Mentally, Brian added David to his growing list, watching as a small lump became more prominent in the smaller man’s shorts. For David’s sake, Brian hoped that the manhood had been that size originally, although deep down he knew it had been bigger.
“Brian…” the faggot continued lapping at Brian’s sole. His voice had notably gotten higher. “You’re tho hot, Brian!”
“Yeah, I know,” Brian replied, uninterested. Not only had he just lost a friend, but he had no interest in the new faggot embarrassing himself before him. “Look, uh, are you about done down there?”
The faggot twitched, his dick throbbing. “Yeth!”
The feminine lisp made Brian cringe. Then, an idea popped in his head. “By any chance, you’re not straight, are you, David?”
“No! I’m a good faggy boi for you, Thir!” the faggot exclaimed, as if he was being tested. “And itth Davey.”
Brian chuckled. “You wouldn’t mind then if I slept with your girlfriend, would you?”
“It would be an honor, Thir!” Davey felt himself getting close. “Pleath take my girlfriend! Pleath take anything you want from me!”
Brian nodded his head, smirking as the faggot busted at his feet. Palming himself, Brian realized this situation may not have been so bad after all.
After our test, things were a bit different for me. First off, I had sucked off my first real cock and I was definitely hooked. I not only confirmed that I was gay but a certain catcher rather than pitcher. And on top of that I discovered dad was as much a sex freak as I was. I knew he was there getting his dick sucked but did he know I was one of the two faggots who swallowed his load?
BJ finished the night by bringing out a series of butt plugs to show us what we’d be learning on next. I saw they varied in size and I couldn’t believe that some of them actually went up your ass after BJ explained what they were. His final instructions for next Thursday were that we had to wash our asses out thoroughly just before coming over to class.
When I got home that night I found Mom and Dad sitting in the living room watching TV and I wanted to ask dad what he thought of the blowjob I gave him but I held my tongue. I did look over his crotch rather thoroughly. My face was pressed against that just a couple hours prior. Ahhhh, good times!!
That Thursday, I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do so I soaped up good and took the removable shower head and pressed it against my asshole while rinsing off. I got the thrill of the water pressure I was used to, but also the excitement of what was to come.
When I got to Mr. Williams’s place, Eric was already there. First things first, BJ had us do some remedial work with our kissing. I was glad to see that I was still on my A game as Eric and I kissed him. Then he had us kiss each other. This was kind of new as though we were both friends, we didn’t kiss each other. I gotta say, my buddy was a good kisser. After a few minutes, BJ had us strip completely bare and lie down facing each other.
The first thing we learned was how to prep the hole. BJ said this would benefit us whether we were getting fucked or doing the fucking. The key to a good fuck is being loosened up and lubed.
Now you two both have nice asses so I must confess that this will be the hardest class I’ve taught yet as I can’t demonstrate on you. Three more months and things will be different. It was then that BJ gave us these top shaped pieces of firm rubber which kind of looked like big radishes. He told us to get familiar with them. Hold them. Lick them. Stick them in our mouths. After a few minutes he then told us to rotate so that we were now head to foot.
I was kind of excited as I was once again staring at Eric’s dick and he was semi hard. It was nice! I sneaked a quick tongue on it and he squealed. Not to be outdone, he sucked the head of mine into his mouth and I almost was shooting just from the excitement of things.
BJ calmed things down by telling us we had already passed the blowjob lessons. Then he told us to lift the ball sack up and start licking there instead. Lick it towards his tiny pink hole. This is loosely called rimming. At least the start of it.
I lifted Eric’s balls and gave it a tentative lick. Not bad. A follow up lick led me further into his ass crack. He was enjoying this so I put more effort into it. It was at this point I felt his tongue make a solid contact with my nuts as he then slid his broad tongue along the backside of my sack and into my ass crack. Holy Fuck!! I guess he’s been up to see his cousin again!!
I decided I was going to give as good as I got so I followed his lead and pressed the broad surface of my tongue against his crevice and began returning the favor. His moan told me I was doing something right. My neck bent to give me further access and I found my target. Besides the acid taste, the fact that he literally jumped from my tongue sliding over his hole cued me into it. BJ gave me some encouragement as I began dipping the tip of my tongue all around the rosebud and attempted to breach his hole.
Eric had controlled himself enough to begin the assault on my hole as well. I felt his tongue licking at the numerous nerves of my anus and growled straight up his ass. I caught movement out of the side of my eye and saw that BJ was busy jerking his sizable rod while mentoring us. Holy cow, the neighbor was fucking hung! I paused as I realized that something that big was going to go into a hole this small and I just licked even harder.
Eric’s hole was becoming a little looser under my tongue and I decided to see just how loose it was. I stick my pointer finger up against it and I almost got it into the hole. I licked it a bit more and I was in. Just one knuckle, but it was the start. I slid it around as Eric moaned and suddenly felt his finger at my back door as well.
And it felt odd at first, but knowing it was my buddy, I felt a warm glow begin to spread throughout my body. From there on it was an unspoken race to be the first to get his finger all the way inside. Eric might have a little experience on me, but I am a determined fighter and I hate to lose.
BJ said we needed to continue to alternate between tonguing and fingering to make sure the hole is well lubed with our spit. As Eric and I continued in our race to dominance, I felt a shock when I heard Eric spit and his wet saliva landed on my exposed wet hole. His finger then started pushing it inside as he leap frogged my goal winning effort and his finger went all in my hole. I felt his finger rub something inside me and I almost came from the shock of it.
BJ started laughing when he saw my boner spring to life and told us the Eric had found my prostate. That’s what you want to be rubbing against when you fuck a guy. It will make him cum without touching him. Honest!!
Well I saw the wheels turning in Eric’s head as he locked that away for future use. In the meantime, I was catching up to him as my finger slid all the way in and I began to rotate my finger around like Eric had in hopes of finding his prostate as well. Didn’t take long as I heard a grunt and my buddy sprang to full mast as well. From the way BJ was jerking it must’ve looked good.
BJ then told us that we needed to continue stretching the hole out so our dicks could get inside. You should get there once you get three fingers inside and freely rotating.
Hah! A new challenge! As we both tore off to be the first, BJ stopped us and told us that we didn’t need to rush. In fact it would be better if we took our time and made the hole in front of us want us to come inside. Tongue it to remind it that we still cared and slowly add fingers to get the job done. It’s not always the fastest that wins!
So after being chastised, Eric and I threw the contest out the window and learned to become sensitive lovers instead. An hour later we finally had reached the point that we could insert three fingers comfortably without each other complaining.
BJ was pleased with our progress and instructed us to take out the butt plug we started the class with. At this point I want you to take a couple pumps of this and handed us a bottle of lube and apply it liberally over the knobby end.
When we had, he then told us to add a little more to your buddy’s hole as well. Then one at a time I want you to insert it up his ass. It will be tight going in. That’s good. It’s going to train the ass muscles to flex to this size easier. Once you are accustomed to taking a dick, it will come a whole lot easier.
I held the greased knob by its flat broad base and ran the nubby end against the hole which was already shrinking. I gave it a little push and heard Eric grunt a little as the hole stretched back open with the increasing diameter of the plug. Then as the broadest part started decreasing again it slid in to place, stopping as the base came into place against his hole.
Eric then did that for me and I swear to God he must’ve gotten a much bigger one as it seemed to be stretching my ass wider than before. Just when I thought I couldn’t take any more, I felt my hole reach a platform. Mine was in as well. BJ said he wanted to examine our work and had us bend over beside each other with our asses open for display. I heard some slapping sounds so I looked over my shoulder and BJ was jerking furiously at the sight before him. I felt something warm land on my ass cheek as he came all over me and Eric’s exposed holes.
After BJ got up and went to the bathroom, he came back and explained our new assignment. We were to wear our plug as long as we could until nature demanded we remove them. Then we washed it when we showered and reinstalled. This is a smaller plug so you each should be able to insert it without assistance. If you haven’t removed it before going to bed, remove it then. Be near the bathroom in case your body decides to take a shit once the hole is open for business, hehe.
Then I want you each to spend at least four days the following week with it in. You will want to use lube to get it into place. Each time you do, you will send me a pic proof of satisfactory reinsertion. When you return next Thursday come wearing it. It will help in your foray into anal sex.
I met my requirements and I was able to return with my plug ready to go. When we got there BJ had us strip and handed us miniature versions of the dildos we learned how to deep throat with. He instructed us that tonight we got a prong up our asses. I went first as I bent forward in front of Eric, with ass jutting in his face. As he grasped the butt plug and slid it out I was mortified when a fart abruptly joined in the melee. Eric and BJ just laughed as BJ instructed Eric to lube up the dildo.
Then Eric brought the rubber dick to my stretched hole and slowly inserted it into my ass. It felt like his finger at first but it went in further. As it started stretching further than the plug had, I was suddenly brought back to reality. BJ told me to just keep taking deep breaths while Eric finished inserting.
Finished? My god how big was this thing?
When he stopped I groaned and then he started to pull it out. I suddenly had no desire to have this removed from my hole. It left an aching empty feeling as it left the tunnel. This only was rectified by him reinserting the rubber dick inside me. At this point, he had us switch places and I got to insert a dildo up Eric’s ass. It was fucking hot and I got hard in the process. Once I got Eric up to the same state I was at, BJ had us swap again.
This time when he pulled the dildo out of my hole, BJ had Eric line his own cock with my hole. This was it! I was finally gonna get fucked by my lust buddy.
Eric stepped up closer and I felt the wet tip of his cock bump against my wet sloppy hole. Then without any ado, I felt him grip my hips as he inserted into my ass. I am here to tell you two things. First, the real thing feels so much fucking better than rubber. And secondly, Eric was a bit thicker around than that dildo. He felt so incredible as he entered into my ass.
BJ coached him on a few steps but I think mother nature, or rather father nature, took over. When he was fully inside me I honestly have never felt so complete. He lay on my back as my insides got used to his thickness and my buddy ran his hands through my hair and kissed my neck. This was fucking amazing!!
The coupling between us went on for a little while until I felt his hips start to move causing his cock to slide inside me. His thick prick was rubbing against my prostate and I was quickly reaching sensory overload. I could feel Eric’s hot breath against my right ear and it was giving additional goosebumps.
BJ was trying to tell me something about arching my back but I was lost in the moment and I wasn’t looking for a map. A quick ten minutes was all Eric lasted but it seemed like an eternity to me. When he came I heard him growl beside my head as a sudden warmth spread out from within me. My first time getting fucked was a dream I will never forget.
The following week, I got to top Eric much the same way he did me. It was magical but I had decided that I definitely preferred being the bottom. BJ didn’t care which was on top as he openly jerked off each time with the same vigor.
Following those two weeks, we had our weekly classes where BJ would describe the scene and we would act it out. Sometimes I would be the boss fucking the lazy worker, other times it might be Eric as the neighbor discovering my secret life and forcing me to please him for his silence. It got to be so exciting not knowing what Mr. Williams would have for us.
Then as December rolled around BJ informed us we had a second exam the following week. Oh yeah, I had almost forgotten he was training us. The following week he had some volunteers coming in to test your anal abilities.
I brought up that we were still minors and there might be issues if word got out. I mean sucking a dick through a hole was safe as we never saw who we were sucking, but in order to get fucked, we would need to be closer to the body of the volunteer. No claim of ignorance then.
BJ looked at us and smiled as he said that he better get the right volunteers then. And dismissed us, reminding us that we needed to clean out for next week.
When we arrived the following week, BJ had moved things around in his living room to give plenty of room. Well I guess this was happening then. We got naked and took seats on the couch. As we sat there smiling and nervous, BJ then entered from the kitchen with his four volunteers; dressed in their police uniforms. The four tough guys stood there grinning at us as BJ said he took what I had said to heart and realized there would be no arrests if the offenders were the arresting officers, right boys?
A loud ‘Yes, Sir’ echoed off the walls. Then BJ instructed us that if we wanted to pass this exam we had better see to the satisfaction of these gentlemen. I suggest you boys strip them.
At that point Eric and I rushed over to the four muscular guys and began feeling their muscles through the uniform before stripping them of their form fitting dark blue uniform. I never realized just how in shape our cops were but I’m here to tell you, WOW.
We removed clothes and carefully folded the uniforms so they could finish their shifts afterward. When I got my first one down to his underwear, I was reminded that I had a second officer feeling left out. I switched to him only to find a handsome tattoo across his chest and upper arms. I suddenly had a new appreciation for body art. After folding neatly the removed uniforms, we were allowed to remove the final bulging pieces of clothing. These guys had big dick energy for a reason. They were all hung thick and two were long as well.
Eric and I were busy recalling the mouth techniques we had learned from the first part of the course as the cops prepared to get a sample of our asses. As we tongued their balls I snuck my tongue under the sack and licked back to his taint. He hollered and raised his left leg as he swung around and presented me with his hairy crack. Knowing BJ was watching I didn’t hesitate as I tongued that crack and hole. This caused a run on rimming requests from the other three and suddenly Eric was face first between a set of muscular hairy ass cheeks as well.
Turned out to be a popular activity with our men in blue as the remaining two started eating out Eric’s and my holes as well. The first two cops swapped out with their buddies as the foursome started fingering out our holes as we remained face down in butt crack.
Someone said they wanted to fuck a young bitch and that led to a rally cheer as Eric and I were lifted up and carried over to the dining table. We were laid down on our stomachs and I looked at Eric and smiled. He held my hand as two guys stepped up behind us with their peckers pointing the way. I felt a hard cock press against my hole as I leaned over and kissed Eric on the table. He kissed me back as the cock forced its way inside my hole. I was glad that he had lubed as he was fucking thick. It hurt a bit and I moaned into Eric’s mouth but he was moaning back into mine.
I breathed a sigh of relief when I finally felt a hairy belly resting on my back side. I felt him kiss the side of my face as he started thrusting his hips creating a fucking motion inside me. His hardness was forcing my insides farther apart than they had ever been before but this pain was overridden by his thick cock rubbing against my prostate as he slid in and out.
He and his patrol mate started a rhythmic motion as they began fucking our inexperienced asses. As the moment intensified for them, they picked up speed and force and was soon slamming their hips against our asses trying to get their cocks further into our fuck canals.
As Eric and I were thrust bodily atop the table repeatedly I saw the other two cops and BJ standing off to the side watching, I couldn’t tell but it looked like BJ was jerking the other two cops off.
As the officer buried up my ass got close I heard him breathing heavy as felt his legs quivering. Then he let loose a howling cheer as I suddenly felt his hot cum splash inside my guts. His sweaty chest suddenly dropped across my backside as he gathered himself. His buddy must’ve been inspired as well as he soon joined him and was howling as the officer was removing his cock from my hole.
I felt immensely empty when the cock of his girth removed from my hole but it wasn’t but a few seconds before a gravelly voice said he loved sloppy seconds and another stiff cock was crammed up my backside. Not as long as the first, but every bit as thick. The officer didn’t waste any time getting me used to him but began a steady fucking as soon as he entered. By the time the handoff occurred at Eric, my new stud was pounding away like he was late for dinner. Each of his thrusts took the air out of me and I was grunting. Definitely no style here, just the meat and potato fuck.
The officer pounded away with no concern for anything but nutting. It was exciting in a way. As he got closer, I felt his string arm pushing my back down onto the table and he started calling me slut and bitch and even fag. In a way it also turned me on. I was finding out more about myself through these classes and it was good. When his hand pushed my head onto the table while his hips were rearranging my insides with his thrusts, I felt the telltale quivering of his legs and then the deep thrust followed by a blast of hot cum erupting inside me, followed by four more big blasts before it trickled down to little squirts. Officer No Personality was a fucking spurter. He loaded me up with cum. When he pulled out the cum poured out my wrecked hole onto the kitchen floor.
At the end of this round a call came through and the officers had to respond to an after hours break in at the auto parts store. They quickly dressed and thanked BJ for the use of his bitches and they left. BJ then came over to the table and told us we had done very well. Then he handed us each a towel and a bucket of soapy water and had us clean up the table and floor.
Four friends debate the latest gay dating app to hit the market. Four friends inevitably become walking advertisements for the very same app. Remember, What’s Good for the Gandr is Good for You!
Here's one for all you droney himbo fans! Average gay friend group into four Adonises literally molded to be the perfect men for Gandr’s supernaturally expanding user base. Hope you enjoy! -Occam
(L to R) Sven - Blaine - Clint - Guy
“It’s called Gandr! I’ve heard nothing but good things! Besides, I’ve been obsessed with the founder since he guest judged on Drag Race!” Clint held out his phone showing an ad for the newest dating app to hit the mobile store. “And it’s not even just for dating! It’s for the lifestyle!”
His friends are nonplussed. Swirling a drink in his hands, Blaine rolls his eyes. “Have you heard anything about it that wasn’t from an ad? I mean- Girl. Obviously it’s not made with guys like us in mind? Like, fuck look at those guy, they wouldn’t seven give Sven a second look unless it was to laugh at him!”
Clad in his usual deep v-neck and squinting at the screen, Sven shrugs in agreement before speaking up himself. “Dunno about this one Clint, something about it feels off? But you know me, I’m not really about apps and shit.”
Huddled around the phone in their favorite haunt, a lowkey gay bar-cum-brunch spot, the group continues bickering about their interest in reality star Chad Gleeson’s latest venture. Taking little part in the chatter, while his cohort debates whether or not this is a cash grab or a genuine attempt to build community online, Guy is simply staring blankly at the disembodied oiled up torsos still scrolling past on Clint’s phone.
Quick to agree with Blaine’s appraisal that the four of them would certainly be less than popular on the app if this is the clientele, Guy certainly sees the benefit in downloading it for a constant stream of eye candy if nothing else. He’s halfway to drooling at dancing bodies when Clint turns the screen off, the debate apparently having come to a head without his input.
Blaine’s unsure if he’s arguing against the app for Clint’s own good or if he’s just jealous that his friend has the confidence to throw his hat into a ring of men who live in a different bracket of existence. Either way, he swears his friend is going to regret trying to sign up. “Look babe, I just don’t want you to be hurt or embarrassed if they don’t take your application to ‘join the Gandr’ or whatever the fuck their little tagline is.”
For the first time hearing anything of substance about this app, Guy shakes out of his horny stupor. “Ohh, so you need to be approved or something?”
Blaine and Clint respond at once, the former squinting in irritation while the latter nods peaceably.
“Girl have you just been mindlessly ogling at those probably ai-generated PNGs??”
“And agree to their terms and conditions, but you need to do that before literally going into, like, a Claire’s these days.”
Sven nods along sagely while nursing his second drink and the group devolve into their more standard shenanigans. Discussing board games, reality tv, and the ongoing petty grievances from their everyday jobs, no one watches as Clint taps away at his screen applying to make a profile on Gandr.
When at last brunch ends and they go their separate ways, none are the wiser as Clint’s rushed application launches a series of events that are to land all of them slots on that app he’s so eager to join. The first of which goes to who else but himself. By the time he arrives home there is an invitation sitting in his inbox.
Clint Darwin thank you for your interest in Gandr! We can’t wait to like, share, and spread your profile! To finally join your fellow gay hunks in this online paradise there are only two final easy steps!
Ecstatic to be accepted and welcomed into an exclusive community alongside men so hot they boggle his mind, Clint agrees to the terms without giving them a second thought. Sure they can do whatever they want with his biometric data and obviously he’s more than happy to recommend three of his friends to join!
Typing each of his variably disinterested friend’s contact information into Gandr, Clint impatiently clicks more than a few boxes signing off on whatever the app asks of him as he rushes to finalize a profile. When he finally reaches that fabled grid where he can add the five or six expertly curated pictures of himself, he sits up straight and grins before a large error sign fills the screen.
We’re so excited to welcome you into the Gandr! Last thing’s last- Our expert team needs to make a few subtle changes so you can fit our desired user base. The better you fit in the more you can show everyone else what they’re missing out on! Remember: What’s good for the Gandr is good for you!
And so the second shoe falls. Self-confidence shot, Clint placidly assumes this is them calling him an uggo. It seems Blaine was right all along and the app is just going to take his application fee and leave him high and dry. Clint reassures himself that at least his friend won’t try to apply so Blaine won’t even know to rub this in his face.
Reading the message again, his eyes latch onto the final motto: What’s good for the Gandr… Clint feels the tagline sink slightly more in to his wounded ego. What’s good for the Gandr. Wondering what ‘a few subtle changes’ even means or how the stupid app even knows what he looks like. Seconds away from closing the app, he believed in for good, his eyes shoot to a swirling loading symbol and half a second later, the screen flashes red.
Unblinkingly staring into the swirling symbol as a thin line scans his face from chin to thinning hairline, the doubt he had of Gandr only seconds ago is forcefully yanked from his mind. How could he ever doubt the app! It wants what’s best for him and he it. When at last his vision recovers from the blinding scarlet light, he sees a small little animation of Gandr’s founder giving him a thumbs up.
Smiling at the chibi man, Clint doesn’t even read the short message explaining the process he is about to undergo to more align with Gandr’s mission. Instead he sees the screen refresh to a profile already fully made and filled with pictures of an almost impossibly buff young man. Perhaps a decade younger than the pushing late 30’s Clint, the man prepares to scroll away and find someone more fitting for his lifestyle before he realizes his name is attached to the profile.
Clint Darwin
Cooper D.
Yeah. Yeah that’s his name. But, that’s not a picture of him, is it?
Slightly woozy as a few of Gandr’s catchier mantras begin to trickle into his mind, Cli Cooper tries to shake off the stupor and nearly falls over. Leaning onto his kitchen counter, the delirious man struggles to pull himself onto a kitchen stool.
“Man… When did it get so, uhh, hot in here?” Reaching to fan his shirt, Coop suddenly realizes how heavy his arms are as even the slightest movement feels like he’s lifting weights heavier than he can conceive. Every twitch is a workout as he tries to wipe sweat from his forehead before it can run down into his stubble. Furrowing his brows, unaware as they begin to bleach and lighten, Cooper’s confused to find his facial hair thinning. Would’ve sworn he had a full beard?
Looking to a mirror he stationed in the corner of his studio for fit checks, Cooper watches as the last of his scraggly beard is sucked into his jawline as his skin tightens and shifts rosier. Lips plumping as his surly brown eyes speckle green like seafoam, Coop can’t help but smile as his dark brown hair starts to bleach into the sunday blonde of a man who lives at the beach.
“God I look good~”
His smile continues to widen as his mind asserts ‘of course I do! Everyone on Gandr is a stud.’ And then he begins to grow. Still clad in the cardigan he went to the bar in, the stitches soon strain as his arms lengthen before beginning to bulk. Bicpes the same size as his needly forearms balloon into meaty weapons earned from countless sessions at the gym.
Seams tear at the first sign of Cooper’s bloating body, buttons begin to fly off his cardigan as his upper body expands into that of a man whose sole concern is looking hot. Feeling the discomfort of fabric holding him back he attempts to wield his bulging arms to remove what is now more scraps of fabric than clothing. Even beginning this movement tears the rest of his shirt to ribbons.
Freed to the air in spite of his pathetic attempts, two massive pecs burst onto his chest as rows of perfect abs pound onto his torso below them. Back widening as his waist tapers into a figure that will always cause needy men to double take, Cooper rubs his sweaty abs and chest as his previously scratchy hair softens into little more than a few blonde curls that may as well leave him hairless.
His hands crack wider as they follow his changes down. Suddenly able for his much larger feet to rest on the floor while sitting on the high stool, his longer legs bloat into heavy thighs as the package in between them throbs into a rod that a jock top like him demands. More rips tear into his skintight pants, leaving a handful of alluring holes for his tasty thighs to catch eyes.
All the while, in between hungrily watching and feeling the power and beauty amassing in his new body, Cooper’s mind has been pushing Gandr’s mission and ideals more to the forefront. Hobbies and work that once belonged to a bygone man are simply washed away so that Cooper may throw himself into recruiting more men to join him on the platform.
After all, who wouldn’t want to be here with a man like him.
Posing in the mirror, what was once just a subconscious desire to get more men on Gandr becomes his driving purpose. Even as Cooper feels his cock throb while flexing his new massive bicep, he knows he would feel even better if he had his gang with him. He needs to usher them into what is going to be the best place for gay men on the internet. In the world.
● ●
While Sven and Blaine may be trickier marks, Guy is an incredibly easy sell. Having received the preliminary invite from Clint’s invitation, Guy was already scrolling through the promo material himself, eyes thirstily taking in every shirtless man thrown his way. Though, even he was hesitant to make a profile as he’s not overeager to beef up his left-swiped statline.
No, he’s happy to just be a lech from the outside. At least that's what he tells himself. Each new sexy hunk chips away more at his resolve. It wouldn't be so bad would it? To be a Gandr Man. But he- He doesn’t really want to be on a dating app. Gandr’s not a dating app. It’s for everything. It is everything. It’s just a place for men like him.
“Oh shit.” Shaking free from his stupor, unwilling to acknowledge the strange almost-ads playing in his mind, Guy looks up to see his bus peeling away. The idea of decency finally returns to the man as he stands to just walk home, adjusting his pants to hide that he has a semi from gawking at men.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that, he tells himself. They submitted these pics to be used in advertising, they want to be looked at. Shoot he would too if he looked like them. You can look like them, you just need to join. This sends a shiver up his spine, he remembers all these studies about subliminal messaging from way back in undergrad. Must be something like that. Pupils quiver as he wonders if he even minds.
Swearing to himself that he’s written off the idea together, his surely impenetrable self-control immediately crumbles when he gets a text from Coop. Guy double takes at the name, feeling like it should be in his phone as something else. Cooper probably? The slight confusion pales in comparison to the message sent
Accompanying a brief text asking that he go ahead and join is a picture of Coop that Guy can’t help but drool at. The shreds of memory of the man who existed before Cooper are blasted away along with whatever hesitation remained as he stares at his friend’s massive thighs and an upper body so built it can’t just be natural.
He’s been right by his friend’s side as he built that killer bod though! All the while building up his own so he can show off and get some with his sq- uh? Guy takes a beat to look at his unimpressive body and is confused why he thought he had a body anywhere nearly as impressive as Cooper’s. All he needs to do is sign up.
Making sure he’s walking in the vague direction of home, Guy returns to his phone to sign up only to find he has already clicked the link sent by Coop and is well on his way to being a Gandr Man. Scrolling past walls of text including diversity statements and waiving application fees for AAPI applicants, Guy clicks every agreement without a beat; As if his hands already knew exactly where every dotted line was.
Before he rounds the block, Guy is already well on his way to being just like the countless men on Gandr he’s been obsessing over. Agreeing to help create promotional material and for them to algorithmically create the perfect profile for him, Guy submits his application and is immediately approved. Seeing the confirmation, he feels a tickle in his chest that he at first mistakes for his usual anxiety.
Brimming with excitement at the idea of meeting his perfect partner and joining a crew of like-minded (more importantly, like-bodied) men, Guy doesn’t notice as his attention is drawn to a loading symbol that fills his mind with algorithmic tricks and the perfect strategies for getting ahead on social media. Head suddenly heavy with far more knowledge about soliciting clicks with a body he doesn’t have yet, Guy’s too absorbed in planning his upcoming deals as his hair lengthens into a dark, trendy middle-part befitting a younger man.
With a twitch his whole head compacts for a far twunkier effect as his baby-blue eyes stain to a shade as dark as the black screen in his hands. The discomfort in his chest only continues to rise as two heavy pecs begin to bounce with every clumsy step homeward. Soon enough he feels two pert nipples, dragging uncomfortable against his shirt.
Need to get a pump on for some pics. No question in his mind, Guy Samlain starts jogging down the street. Hair retracts on his forearms as they brown and glisten under the afternoon sun. So too does his chest begin to tan with his splotchy new skintone as his pecs bulk large enough to pop off a few buttons.
Feeling his hitherto heavy gut tighten and smooth with every strutting step onward, Samlain smirks as he imagines how hot he’s going to look on the profile Gandr makes for him. Getting a little too excited about all the men he’s going to convince to join him on the app, he needs to adjust his gait as his little Samlain starts to help hold up sweatpants starting to sag on his thinner waist.
Panting as he sweats through his shirt, it’s not long before he realizes there’s no need to be wearing one at all. As he yanks it off and bares his muscled up new body, Samlain grins as immediately he starts catching eyes. Reaching up to tousle his hair he realizes he should be catching this on camera for the app!
Setting up his phone on a tripod, like he’s done so a million times, Sam feels his sweaty pits scratch between his bulging biceps and bouncing chest. It’s the only place body hair remains on him and he’s gotta show it off, Gandr knows what its users want and all.
Sam steps back and plays with his hair again, expertly performing cutesy twunk realness despite every move being carefully calculated and controlled. He can practically see the men frothing at their mouths as he tilts his head and plays with his pec. Knowing it’s not long at all before his oversized underwear falls to his feet, Samlain finishes his journey home and takes a quick selfie to send to Blaine. Gonna be all hands on deck to convince that whiny stick in the mud to give in.
● ● ●
Only a few blocks away, Sven is sobering up from their sloppy brunch before a quick shift at a plant shop down towards the beach. Sun shining on his still merry face, the man doesn’t even notice the first few notifications sent to him by Gandr and the man formerly known as Clint.
No, happy-go-lucky as he always is, Sven simply enjoys the morning and reflects over the more pleasant conversations from the time with his boys. For obvious reasons this does not include even a moment of their chat about Grando or whatever that dating app was. At least, not until he sees a massive poster for the platform being actively pasted onto a wall.
Taking a breather to inspect it and relearn that the app is apparently named Gandr, Sven is shocked to see Cl- Cooper’s familiar, gleaming smile looking down at him. He doesn’t know how his paper teeth can even look so shiny. Snapping a pic, for a moment he thinks Cooper looks far more musclebound than he usually is and starts to excitedly text that he saw his in an ad.
But then he remembers just how commonplace it is for him to see Cooper or, uh, Samlain when he’s scrolling or walking the pier. As the thought strikes him Sven sees a similar poster of Sam going up. Scratching his exposed chest as he frowns slightly, Sven deletes his half-typed message and at last finds the texted invite from Coop.
Well shoot, it would be rude not to check out his friend’s whole thing. He’s gotten them to show up countless times to buy pothos or succulents or whatever plant he accidentally over-ordered. And he’s just a clerk! Obviously Coop must be way more involved in Gandr, why else would he be so obsessed with pushing it. Constantly explaining their goals and quoting metrics. It’s so annoy-
“Ah… That’s not very nice…” Sven mutters to no one as he guilt trips himself into starting an application for a dating app he assumes he’s never going to open again. As if he were atoning for this slightest slight, Sven continues down the same digital road oh so recently travelled by his dear friends.
Decidedly the least online of their little coterie, Sven okays the first few boxes before stowing his phone. His intent to join has been taken by Gandr however, and this is more than enough to begin the grand work of user assimilation onboarding!
There’s a shiver down Sven’s spine as he is struck a little woozy. Taking it in stride the beanpole of a man shakes off a slight headache as the closer he gets to work, the closer he finds himself to the earth. Powering through a tightness in his back greater than he felt even after his most intense and draining days from his time as a younger athlete, Sven stretches and staves off overwhelming pressure in his limbs.
Memories flit through his mind of having a group, a crew far larger than that he has now. As his back compresses and his long legs thicken from the sheer half a foot in height lost, the weight quickly shifts upward towards his ass, never a muscle-group favored by the friendly top, causing it to thicken into his main attraction.
Bared to the world, Sveb’s messy patch of chest hair begins to retract into a chest bulking as it bronzes from the afternoon sun. Still blearily stamping towards work as his pants fall over his feet. Sveb- Sveb? Seb starts sweating up a storm, causing his short hair to sag with sweat over his forehead as it darkens and curls into a look far less intentional than he usually prefers.
Shaking his curls as his woozy headache begins to give way to a contented delirium, his lips twitch into a grin as his permanently clean-shaven upper lip darkens with peach fuzz. When it immediately thickens into a trendy mustache, his smile widens further to show off his gleaming pearly whites.
V-neck halfway to exposing his toned abs, Seb takes it off and just stows it in his back pocket as he nonchalantly course corrects to head towards the beach rather than work. Full upper body now exposed to the world, Seb pays no mind to all the aimless eyes caught by his aesthetically maintained body.
None of his body hair remains save two mandatory patches in his pits and his newly paltry happy trail. The latter of which he fingers mindlessly as he steps onto the sand and feels at home. And with every physical change Gandr’s mission sinks in deeper, hiding just out of conscious thought, eager for its newest vector to begin his unique work.
Emanating an aura of thoughtless friendliness, it’s not long before the shirtless man is approached by a couple and offered some trunks to replace his jeans. Headily agreeing, Seb has no modesty at all as he changes then and there, paying only the slightest effort to make sure his loose briefs stay on in the in between.
No modesty in sight, part of him is unaware as the pair of friendly beachgoers blush at his exposed ass and trimmed pubes. Performatively stretching as he feels the trunks hang, some previously hidden aspect of him sees an opportunity to strike “L- let’s get a pic bros!” The words fall from his lips as he throws an arm around one of them and awaits the other to snap a picture of him and his new friends.
So too does his tongue spill out of his mouth like it never has, as if he’s panting like a dog, Seb flirtily smiles and awaits the snap. This is what it’s all about, building community. Community. Helping Gandr Grow. His hand trails down the back of his new friend as his eyes shift far sharper. Still maintaining the effortless appeal of a beach bro, one seemingly focus grouped to lower defenses, Seb sinks his teeth in to do his favorite brand’s dirty work.
“Heyyy, you guys know what? Have you heard of Gandr?” His other hand moves to the back of the other’s neck where he playfully draws circles on his soon-to-be cohorts traps. Both men await his explanation with hunger. Shit this Gandr stuff is just too easy! Feeling his attention span waning, Gandr’s newest ambassador quickly does his plug before getting back to doing this the proper way, being a walking advertisement for the greatest social media app there’s ever been.
● ● ● ●
Elsewhere Blaine is fed up. Anywhere he turns there just seems to be more ads for that shitty app Connor wouldn’t shut up about. His eye twitches as he thinks of his friend, something feels off but he hasn’t the toolkit to even begin to unpack what. Since breakfast he’s received so many texts and DM’s from the ass suggesting he chill out and just give it a try that he’s ignoring the man all together.
This leaves Connor’s tried and true tactic of thirst trapping his friend onto the app of little use as by the time he sends his first selfie Blaine has already muted his friend’s number. He’ll check back in with Connor when the jerk’s done shilling for that stupid shitty app. Like the world needs another platform for conventionally attractive gym-gays to hold themselves as the pinacle of queerdom.
Scowling as he sits in the dark at his desk, Blaine reflects over their time at lunch wondering if he might be acting a tad too dramatic. But when he thinks back now his friends were even more adamant about the app than he had thought. Even Sven- er, Seb and Sam were all about it.
“C’mon bro, it’s such a sweet gig! Just hop on and hang at the beach with me~ Gandr just wants to spread good vibes~”
“You’ve always wanted to be a smokeshow right B-babe?”
Refrains of their arguments bounce through his mind to a point it’s almost difficult for him not to start agreeing. But, powering through, Blaine shakes them off and rolls his eyes, “Multi-level marking dating app bullshit… An MLM MLM heh.”
Letting his guard ever so slightly down as he chuffs at his own joke, Blaine finds no harm in checking just to see what his friends are spamming him with. It’s not like there’s any harm in reading their messages, he’s not some paranoid maniac. They’re just text messages. When he at last grabs his cell however, he finds a video call ringing from Sam. Maybe Samlain has already realized the error of his ways! Assuming as much, Blaine smiles to himself and picks up.
The self-satisfied grin immediately falls to open-mouthed shock as his eyes can’t help but stare hungrily at his friend’s bouncing pecs. Atop rows of abs twitching with his slow breath, his chest is a bulky capstone that almost causes Blaine to drool. Playfully grinning himself as he watches any higher thought vacate Blaine’s head, Sam at last speaks up.
“Yo! Seems like you’re just about on board huh? Gandr’s happy to have you little buddy, just gotta accept and you can finally reach your pinnacle. Help the Gandr Grow.”
The words send a throbbing pang through Blaine’s chest as stray thoughts of ‘how bad could it be’ and ‘could he really get a body like that?’ rise in volume. Then his eyes drift to find the cocky smirk on Sam’s face and he scoffs. “Ugh fuck off! I’m not going to sell-out just because you flexed your pecs at me you ass!”
“Soooo..? This doesn’t turn you on then?”
With a grunt Blaine tosses his phone to the floor and walks away, unaware of the quick-track application sent by the man who did indeed turn him on. Eager for a distraction to get his semi the rest of the way down, a knock at the door provides just that. Or it would have, had yet another shirtless friend not been awaiting him on the other side.
Traipsing into Blaine’s home as soon as the door cracks open, smelling of sex and the beach, Sebastian stretches as he looks around Blaine’s place. “Heyyy babe, feel like it’s been forever!”
“It’s been maybe 6 hours, Seb.”
Looking into the middle distance, Seb starts to think back to six hours ago and gets too bored by the prospect. Shrugging as he instead searches for the perfect light in Blaine’s apartment to highlight his figure, the sunkissed Seb posts up in a doorway and tries to do what he does best.
“You seem out of it B? Something up?”
Clenching his jaw, Blaine tries to make any sense of his situation. Seb is his friend. Seb has always been his friend. Why shouldn’t he trust Seb? God. Seb is so fucking hot.
“You need a hug Blaine?”
Before the man answers Seb already has his arms around him. Body as warm as the midday sun, Blaine’s breath catches in his throat as he smells the heady dried sweat on Seb’s neck. The hunk’s defined arms hugging his thin back. It feels so right to be held by him. He needs this. He needs to hold others just like this.
Hesitantly reaching around, Blaine feels Seb’s burning back, the individual muscles twitching as he can only imagine the man’s strength. He feels his friend’s breath on his shoulder, the scratch of his mustache and the soft kiss of his lips. Seb turns his head to whisper in his ears, “Do you really not want this B?”
Irises twitch in his eyes as he tries to think of any reason to not want this. To not want to offer this to others. To not give in.
“I- Of course I want to join Seb!? I-”
Confirming verbal contract. Welcome aboard Blaze J. Thank you for aiding Gandr’s Diversity objectives and remember. What’s good for the Gandr is good for you!
“I no- Thas not my…” he tries to push free from Seb’s arms but his captor hugs him even tighter, bleary smile on his face. Shaking his head, the man who can already only think of himself as Blaze puts everything he’s got into escaping what was moments ago a friendly hug.
Everything within him strains as he pushes. Blaze’s weary arms burn as his chest twitches with muscle awakening. Eyes forced shut to focus on escape, Blaze opens them to find himself suddenly looking down at a peacefully smiling Seb. Shaking his head in shock, he then shoves Seb away with ease and looks down at his hands.
He can see bones twitching underneath his skin as his forearms tighten and the span of his hands cracks wider. The buttons on his polo pop off as his pecs put on weight at an unfathomable rate. Nipples immediately showing through his shirt as his chest grows with every shaky breath, he moves to feel the muscle and hears his sleeves tear from the slightest movement of biceps bloating into serious weapons.
Sitting nearby, Seb just watches as Blaze’s blond hair begins to darken and curl. Sideburns that never even grew thick enough to be considered peach fuzz race down his cheeks as a stubbly goatee circles his puffier lips. Seb playfully bites his own lip as the newest Gandr user’s shirt suctions against his growing body, his fuzzy treasure trail exposed as his adonis’ belt firms to a degree almost inhuman.
Catching a glance of his own reflection, Blaze can’t believe it, he looks like a model. Like a statue of some divinity. His pale skin begins to speckle darker as his lips continue to plump and his vaguely chubby cheeks sharpen. His foppish updo tightens into a fade as the whole of his lower face is covered with perfectly trimmed stubble that will never leave his face again.
Wandering to his nearest mirror, the effort of moving tears away what remains of his shirt as his chest and shoulders stretch wide enough that they could never be contained. Neck thick with amassing strength joined by traps and an athletic wingspan to support it, when Blaze at last sees his full sexy new self, he can do nothing but smile.
He is a Gandr man. Why did he ever foolishly resist?
Flexing his bicep just to see how high it peaks, for the first time in his life Blaze sees the world as an Alpha does. What sense is there fighting against natural order? Thick fingers trail down his abs carved from stone as his pants struggle to contain a heavy package growing ever-larger.
His legs struggle to put on mass as he keeps inching taller, drinking in his reflection as he stares at individual strands of muscle dancing across his veiny arms and curl-speckled chest. Stepping back to gauge Seb’s reaction he already knows his friend will be all about his new look. His eye twitches at the idea, guess he has a pump from the gym but otherwise he’s always looked like a king. Like the stud he is.
Putting on a show and flexing for Seb he watches as his friend gets visibly more excited, pants a size or two small do quite a poor job hiding one’s erection and all, Blaze delights in his first of many partners on Gandr. Pouncing, when the pair begin making out Blaze’s mind fills with all the proprietary knowledge that every Gandr man needs to perform his mission.
To ensure everyone finds what they're looking for. To grow their user base and show any detractors what they’re missing. To have the time of their lives just as Gandr’s founder envisioned. If perfection is on the table is it not the only right thing to do to spread it as far and wide as possible. Blaze certainly agrees.
Within a day Blaze is on his own beat working to show every gay man what he’s missing out on. Newfound strength and impossible need guiding him like a carrot on a stick, Blaze lures a too-critical influencer home and easily finds his way into the bedroom.
“You know you’re missing out, Hal. You could have all this, just need to say the word.” The twink even whinier than he was but a week ago stares at Blaze’s beyond muscular body, honed for this and this alone. Rationalizing begins to give way to unadulterated lust as he sees the Gandr man’s thick eyebrows raise.
It’s just a quick fuck, he’s slept with worse. Is he above a man putting out for some beyond bizarre brand activation? Why the fuck should he be!? Look at him. Harder than he’s been in years staring at the fuzzy cleft between Blaze’s prodigious, bouncing pecs, Hal feels any scruples just melt away.
Somehow knowing he’s agreed, Blaze walks over and straddles him in bed. Mouth hanging open with need,showing his perfect gleaming teeth above traps thicker than any lesser man’s shoulders. Sticking out his tongue ever so slightly, he raises his head and looks down. “Just need to say the magic words and then you’re all mine.”
Raspy voice like a siren to his ears, Hal would say anything to get this man on top of him. “Please God, whatever you want! I’ll do it!” Blaze smiles down as another job well done begins to form, and now he’s to enjoy his own handiwork as Gandr’s new world grows ever wider.
That little something was a powder called Ovid's Wet Dream, and it had found its way inside of Eli's morning coffee courtesy of Silas. Now, Silas clutches his legs as he watches his equally nerdy friend explode in height.
"I'm so fucking horny!"
Silas is practically drooling at the sight of Eli's modest erection begins fattening. Eli's sweatpants are so thin and soaked with pre-cum that they're practically see-through, and do little to hide the inflating sausage between his legs. The cock's head flares and pushes out pre at a more urgent rate, as his balls begin churning and inflating with backed-up cum, becoming veritable, hairy baseballs between his legs. Eli's balls flood his body with testosterone. Sweat begins pouring out of his body, his pubes and pit air thickening and growing denser.
"I'm glad it feels good!" Silas says, encouragingly, squirming as his 5-inch erection brushes against his shorts.
Eli only moans in assurance as his frail chest begins inflating. If Eli had the mental faculties to do so, he would be asking lots of questions. But through the drool flooding out of his mouth, it's obvious the mental changes the powder promised are steadily kicking in. The overwhelming flood of hormones makes the loss of Silas's intelligence even more pronounced as he begins mindlessly humping, thrusting his hips, desperate for release as his cock surges to 9, thick, long inches. The head of his cock pumps a steady stream of pre down his knee.
"Fuck, bro!"
"Oh my god," Silas mutters, licking his lips.
Now, the most important question is why. Why is Silas watching his friend play with his fattening nipples, moaning like a whore and groaning with pleasure as his chest begins inflating with displaced fat and muscle? Why is Silas slowly stroking himself as Eli begins furiously massaging his expanding muscle tits, his hands cracking and inflating, becoming thick and veiny, callouses forming on his hands as workout routines replace complex math problems in Eli's shrinking brain? Why is Silas drooling from horniness as Eli flexes an expanding bicep and shows off his fattening arm, the thick hair growing beneath his pits, damp and sweaty, reeking of musk and testosterone?
Well, the poor guy is a virgin.
Still.
Eli stands and grabs his tight shirt, abs carving themselves into his stomach, and rips it clean down the collar. His back widens and thickens, biceps pumping with more meat as he bumps his beyond hard dick against his desk, files deleting themselves from his computer. All of his math homework? Gone. All of his coding programs? Gone. In their place is all the gay porn the gay, horny jock can possibly masturbate to whenever his massive, constantly producing bull balls need draining. The aroma of cum, sex, sweat, and musk fills both Eli and Silas's noses. It makes Silas's hole twitch, clenching in feverish anticipation, and only inflates Eli's burgeoning ego, and his burgeoning ass. The pancake ass begins stuffing itself with muscle and fat just like his pecs, the cheeks filling out whatever room is left in his straining, soaked sweatpants as his thighs, calves, and feet begin growing to match his upper body.
Eli looks at Silas with half-lidded eyes, cloudy with lust. He bites his lip as the cocky streak in him begins growing, seeing the cute twink in a different, much less platonic light as his pale skin begins growing a healthy tan, moaning as his nipples expand further, becoming more sensitive as more heft is packed onto his already meaty chest.
All Silas has ever wanted was to lose his virginity. Eli lost his recently but that's only because Eli was bolder, a little more comfortable using the apps than Silas ever was. It filled him with jealousy as Eli gushed about the experience. How nice the man was. How careful he was. Silas sat there silently fuming and mildly embarrassed at the fact that he was seemingly such a late bloomer. So many people he'd met had fucked already. And here he was, fingering himself and quietly moaning into his hand as he came. Besides, none of the men on the apps fit the exact parameters that Silas was looking for. Sure they were hunky, but did they have such a fat ass splitting the back of their sweatpants, the hairy globes released into the air and nearly clapping from their size? Did they have such meaty, juicy thighs sandwiching their fat nuts? Did they have such huge, musky feet, stretching across the carpeting, the toes thickening and thin hairs growing on the backs of them, the musk adding to the heady smell in the air, making Silas woozy with lust? Did they think with the head between their legs more often than the one on their shoulders?
Eli groans in pleasure, his newly deep voice ricocheting through the small room. His computer bloats into a massive, color-changing gaming computer. Java closing itself and COD showing up on the computer screen.
For Eli, he's never felt so good in his life. His brain totally devoid of worries and fears. No anxieties at all. He's just horny as shit. His brain is a carousel of images involving some bottom in front of him, their hole clutching tight to his thick dick, the massive schlong buried deep in their holes as it gains another inch in length and girth. Or his fat ass being impaled by one of his workout buddies, bent over in the musky locker room, cock oozing on the floor as his eyes loll in pleasure. He rubs his chiseling chin, moaning in approval as a thick beard begins growing on his chin. A baseball cap appears on his head, his wardrobe simplifying into the only attire necessary for a horned up jock like him. Sneakers, tank tops, basketball shorts, sweatpants, tight jeans, tighter polos, nipples and pecs and abs and dense, meaty biceps forever in display. Begging for a worshipper to lick him from head to toe. To swallow his cock down to the base, nose buried in the thick, musky pubes.
His cock strains with backed-up cum. His torn T-shirt (size small? Why the fuck did he buy such a small shirt) draped over the boner that's finally broken free of his destroyed sweatpants.
Silas mouth falls open and he gasps.
"Shit, bro I didn't know you were in here," Eli says, pressing down on his dick and making it bob. His dick pulses hungrily.
"Um," Silas says, speech temporarily shorted out by his own boner and the musk spreading through the room.
"I was gonna game," Eli says, "but then you walked by me with those shorts on." He bites his lip. "That ass looks perfect."
"I'm a virgin," Silas blurts and then blushes.
Eli only chuckles, before standing and letting the shirt slide off and his cock to bob in front of the mesmerized twink in its full, drippy glory. He wonders why he never considered fucking his nerdy friend before, maybe as a reward for doing his homework or something. Yeah, maybe he should start doing that. It's hard to pay attention to some dumb professor when all your dick wants to do is bust a nut everywhere. Maybe his friend and roomy here could help him with his large problem.
How about a story about a homophobic frat jock who gets turned into the husband of his gay, middle aged english professor?
Jared had everything he could want. The looks, the friends, girls drooling over him, the athletic ability... the list went on. The only thing he didn't have was a good grade in his stupid intro to English course. To Jared, school was just an obstacle to the things he would rather be focusing on. His time partying, working out, and practicing on the field were all higher priorities for him. The only thing grades were good for were maintaining his sports scholarship.
"C'mon man, you can't fail me." Jared insisted, "I'll write a stupid essay or something. Ever heard of extra credit?"
Dr. Peters sighed, "Jared, I know you have the potential. You're a bright young man and..."
"Enough with the bullshitting." The young jock continued, "I'm sure I could pass your class if I gave a fuck." His eyes narrowed.
"In all my years of teaching, I've never..." Dr. Peters paused and regained his composure, "Look, I'm sorry Jared, but I can't just change your grade." He put the papers he had been reading down as his phone buzzed, "I'm sorry, I have to take this."
Jared watched as his professor stepped away and the young man sighed. Did he lose his cool? Yeah. Did it hurt his case? Fuck yeah. But he wasn't about to let some washed out, gay English nerd fuck with his life. Jared looked down at the papers Dr. Peters was reading and smirked. Without a second thought, he grabbed it and left the room.
-------------
Was stealing a bunch of papers from his English professor the best revenge he could think of? No, not at all. But when Jared started reading them, he nearly died from laughter.
"Did he write this shit?" Jared smirked, taking in Dr. Peter's handwriting, "Oh my god, dude needs to learn to type. Probably can't even afford a laptop on his shitty salary."
As Jared started to read the pages he had stolen, his expression shifted. He couldn't believe what he was reading.
"What a pervert." Jared chuckled, "This is what you spend your time writing about?" The story was unlike anything he expected. It detailed an intimate encounter between two men - Dr. Peters and an assistant coach named Chris, "You dirty fucker," Jared whispered under his breath.
But he couldn't help but continue to read over each line. The story unfolded with vivid descriptions of a burly, handsome assistant football coach, Chris. The broad shoulders, thick gut, hirsute form- oozing masculinity.
"So that's the type of guy Peters gets off to." Jared mused, "What a…" He shifted uncomfortably as he felt his cock beginning to stiffen, tenting against his jeans, "The fuck…?" He smirked, "Guess its been a bit since I got off…" He whispered.
Jared kept reading, his curiosity piqued despite himself. The story described how the English professor ran a hand through the assistant coach's thick chest hair, tracing the lines of muscle beneath. As he read these words, Jared felt an odd itching sensation on his own chest. He absently scratched at it, not realizing that fine hairs were beginning to sprout across his smooth skin.
He continued to read, now fully engrossed in the erotic tale unfolding before him. The professor leaned in closer to the coach, breathing in the scent of his cologne mixed with sweat. Jared inhaled deeply- he could swear he smelled it too. It was rugged, musky, and deliciously masculine. And it was coming from him. His own musky pits… And it smelled so good…
"What the hell." Jared shook his head, "Alright… time to put this down…"
Jared tried to set the papers aside, but found himself unable to look away. The story had taken hold of him, drawing him deeper into its world. As he read on, the characters' encounter grew more heated. The professor pressed his lips to the coach's neck, feeling the coarse stubble against his face. Jared winced as hairs sprouted from his own jawline, growing thicker until he sported a scraggly, manly beard.
"Wh-what the fuck?"
He tried to lift a hand to confirm what he had felt. But his hands remained stuck in place, holding the story. He couldn't even move his head, forced to stare at the pages and read what was on them.
"I can't move…" He stuttered, "I can't…"
Jared couldn't help but continue to read. Read the description of professor grasping the coach's muscular arms, Jared could feel his own biceps swell and thicken. But he couldn't look. Couldn't see the changes that the story wrought on his lean muscles and athletic form.
"Ohhhh... fuck…" He moaned.
The story detailed how the professor trailed kisses down the coach's chest, circling his nipples with his tongue. Jared gasped, feeling his own nipples harden and tingle. He wanted to look down, to see if they had darkened and enlarged like the coach's, but he couldn't tear his gaze away from the pages. But he could feel his pecs swell, thickening with muscle, while also sagging and softening with age.
"Pl-please let me go…" Jared begged.
He read as the coach groaned, his hands roaming over the professor's body. Jared's fingers twitched, aching to do the same. To explore every inch of someone else's skin, to feel another man beneath him. He shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts. But they persisted, growing stronger with each passing moment. As the characters in the story began to undress each other, Jared felt his own clothes start to come undone and vanish, leaving him completely naked on his bed.
"Feels so good..." The cool air on his warm skin sent a shudder of pleasure through his increasingly larger form.
As Jared read on, he felt his scalp begin to tingle. He tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the vivid descriptions of the characters' bodies pressing together. But the sensation grew more intense, spreading across his entire head.
He gasped as he felt strands of hair loosen and fall away. More followed, clinging to his fingers as he reached up to feel the thinning locks. Panic surged through him, but he couldn't stop reading. The story described the professor running his hands through the coach's thinning hair, and Jared felt his own recede further, revealing more of his scalp.
"No… please no…" He whimpered, but the words came out slurred and weak. His voice was changing too, deepening into a gravelly rasp. He could hear the difference, but couldn't process what it meant.
Jared's eyes widened as he felt a sudden burst of heat across his skin. The story detailed the professor trailing kisses down the coach's chest, across his hairy belly and lower still. Jared gasped, feeling coarse hairs erupt across his own once-smooth torso. They sprang up everywhere - his chest, back, shoulders. He felt like a walking carpet, covered in a thick pelt of dark fur.
"I can't be becoming him... I can't be.... fuck..."
Despite the alarming changes, Jared found himself growing more aroused. The descriptions of the characters' bodies pressing together, their sweaty skin sliding against each other, filled him with a primal hunger. He craved that closeness, that intimacy. He wanted to feel another man's strong arms around him.
"Oh fuck that… I'm not gay…" The pace of his breathing had quickened, his mind was racing as he tried to process the changes, "I'm Jared. I'm not…"
The story described the professor reaching down to grasp the coach's throbbing cock, feeling it pulse in his hand. Jared moaned, his own member responding in kind. It lengthened and thickened. Pre-cum leaked from the tip, dripping down onto his furry thighs. He couldn't believe how sensitive he had become, how desperately he needed release.
"I need… I need…" He whimpered, but he couldn't find the words. Couldn't articulate the burning desire coursing through his veins. All he knew was that he craved another man's touch. Craved the feeling of being filled, of being used.
Suddenly, he felt a presence behind him.
Strong arms wrapped around Jared's waist, pulling him back against a solid, muscular frame. He gasped, his eyes snapping open as he realized he was no longer alone. Realized he wasn't even in his dorm room anymore. He was in a bedroom. Their bedroom. Their? No he was… he was… His eyes widened as the papers in his hands vanished, as the the story's words faded away, instead replaced by reality.
"W-what the fuck?" He stammered, trying to turn around. But the arms held him firmly in place.
A low, husky voice rumbled in his ear, "I love you, babe."
Jared froze, recognizing that voice instantly. It was Dr. Peters. But how?
Before he could process it further, he felt the older man's hand wrap around his throbbing cock. Fingers closed around the base, squeezing gently. Jared cried out, his hips bucking involuntarily.
"Yes, right there," Jared heard himself say, but the voice didn't belong to him. It was deeper, gruffer, and laced with lust. He tried to open his mouth to protest, but no sound came out. Instead, his lips formed a smile as he pushed back against Dr. Peters' hand.
Panic surged through Jared's mind as he realized he wasn't in control of his own body anymore. He was trapped, watching helplessly as the assistant coach persona took over. The one from the story.
"Please, don't stop," Coach moaned, his hips rocking in time with Dr. Peters' strokes. "I need you inside me."
As Dr. Peters guided him towards the bed, Jared's vision blurred. The last thing he saw before darkness claimed him was a wedding band glinting on his own finger. Memories flooded his mind - memories of a life he hadn't lived. Of loving Dr. Peters, of being loved by him. Of countless nights spent entwined in each other's arms, of waking up to the older man's warm embrace.
-----------
"Babe? Babe?" Jared stirred awake, his eyelids fluttering open. He blinked groggily, trying to orient himself. The last thing he remembered was… what exactly? Something about a story... about Dr. Peters… No... Evan. His husband...
"Thank god, you passed out," Evan said, relief evident in his voice. He sat on the edge of the bed, a concerned look etched on his face. "I was worried sick about you."
Jared frowned, confusion clouding his mind. Passed out? Worried? What was going on? He glanced down at his hand, noticing the wedding band for the first time. It was gold, simple, but unmistakable. He lifted his hand to examine it, but Evan caught his wrist gently.
"Hey, hey, it's okay," Evan murmured, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of Jared's hand.
Jared found himself nodding along, allowing Dr. Peters to guide him towards the bathroom. As they walked, Jared inspected his body. The thick chest hair, the broad shoulders, the paunch around his middle. None of it made sense. He was supposed to be a fit, muscular college athlete, not this… not this…
"Babe?"
As Jared looked at Evan, something clicked into place. The concern in his eyes, the gentle touch of his hands, the familiarity of his voice - it all fell together like pieces of a puzzle. This was his husband. His lover. The man he had built a life with. With a swift movement, Jared pushed Evan backwards onto the couch, pinning him beneath his weight. The older man yelped in surprise, but quickly melted into a pleased smile as he felt Jared's erection press against his thigh.
"We can't just leave it hanging like that, can we?"
Glad to see you having some time off work and getting some much needed rest. I kind of have a selfish request if that's alright. My boyfriend is not as into muscle as I am, so I am kind of wondering if you could help me out. Would it be possible to make me into the perfect man for him? I love him so much but he likes skinner twink body styles and I want to understand why, bells and whistles included I want to really get into what makes smaller skinny guys so hot. Heh maybe make him into my perfect man ripped and bulgy in all the right places too haha.
Oh haven't had such a nice double change for my Chronivac in a while. Let's start from the bottom, meaning with your favorite top, or rather your boyfriend. You said you're into muscle? And that you want your man to be your perfect guy? Ripped and bulgy? I'd love to say that's a tall order, but I'm not gonna lie to somewhat so nice.
I think I have the shortcut for one of those transformations laying around in a folder somewhere. So you probably want a big set of pillow pecs to cuddle into and we'll gonna do just that. An enormous set of muscle tits, capped off with thick chewy nipples for you to play with, right out the door. Next we'll go for a pair of muscled, vascular arms to hold you tight against that comfy chest. Nothing better than a hug from 22 inch arms while you're trying to doze off.
A wide set of shoulders for you to be thrown over like a bag of potatoes are also a nice touch. You may find you man a lot more demanding and dominant, though I'm sure you won't mind too much. Can't have your ideal muscle hunk be too much of a wuss after all. Don't worry, he's still gonna be kind and caring normally, but that guy knows what he wants and with muscles like that he's gonna get it when he's horny. Let's have a look at your new and improved boyfriend.
Kinda cute, don't you agree? I paired his boyish face with some masculine male models, can't go wrong with a youthful looking muscle hunk. And a quick read on his mind tells me that he's currently popping that arm sized boner (I might have gone a bit overboard with that and the swollen orange sized bull nuts. Sorry for that) just thinking about getting big for you. So yeah, I think it's safe to say that he's now just as much into muscle as you. Though I guess he's more about getting his muscles worshiped by you.
Speaking of which, I think I'll give you a lesson on why he prefers small twinks.
First off I feel like he gets hard just thinking about how much bigger he is next to you. And you really can't blame for that. I very much understand loving the feeling of having a little twink eye level with your nipples, looking down at them getting smothered into the bulging chest you built just for that purpose. And you remember me mentioning how he wants to fling you over his wide shoulders? Would be a bit tough to fit you there if you're too big. And I think the feeling of your little hands roaming over his expansive body will never fail to get that anaconda of his hard. Trust me, I made sure of it.
Secondly I think you'll soon understand one of the main selling points of twinks. I'm of course speaking of that stereotypical fat bubble butt bouncing behind your much skinnier body now. I didn't make you too skinny, don't worry, just a lithe gymnast build so your new bullfriend can bend you into any position he wants as when he fucks your new and improved hole. For both your and his pleasure I made sure you're always tight as a keyhole, but also able to accommodate that horsecock I "accidentally" gave him.
Don't know if he prefers your ass or mouth, so I made sure to also give you thick, pouty Dick Sucking Lips, got rid of your gag reflex and also gave you a long, dexterous tongue for you to really savor that amazing schlong of his. Another one of the allures of twinks I guess.
I think that's about everything I'm gonna be telling you about that topic for now. I'll leave you to figure out the rest for yourself when your boyfriend comes home, just as eager to explore your holes as you are to explore his muscles.
“This book is so boring. Why the fuck did I pick English as a major?” my roommate Aaron groaned for the third time that evening.
He was sprawled on the couch in his usual baggy hoodie and shorts, skinny legs dangling off the edge, looking every bit the pale, nerdy English student he was. I sighed and tried to ignore him, flipping through my own textbook.
“Why couldn’t I have picked something easy like Sports Science or whatever?” he whined again.
I couldn’t help but smirk. Aaron was as skinny as they came, he had no muscle, no coordination, zero interest in anything athletic. Still, if it would shut him up…
I had discovered long ago that I could change one thing about a person’s life. Just one. Permanent. Reality would rewrite itself around whatever it was I changed and make it so the rest of their life and the world would fit.
So I focused on him and made the change.
Aaron’s major is now Sports Science.
The world rippled.
I felt the shift wash over the room like a wave. When I looked back at the couch, my jaw dropped.
Aaron was gone.
In his place lounged a total jock god.
He was massive. Thick, powerful legs covered in dark, intricate tattoos stretched across the couch, his quads and calves bulging even while relaxed. He now had rock-l hard abs and a broad, sculpted chest. His arms were covered in full sleeves of ink, one draped lazily behind his head while the other held a book he was clearly no longer interested in. A red cap sat backwards on his head, and his jaw had sharpened into a strong, masculine line with a perfectly trimmed beard.
“Bro… why the fuck am I reading a book?” His voice was deep and lazy now, full of that effortless jock confidence.
He tossed the book aside and stretched, the movement making his entire muscular body flex and shift. The tank top pulled tight across his wide chest as he scratched at his abs absentmindedly. His thick legs shifted, the heavy bulge in his tight white Calvin Klein briefs impossible to ignore.
Aaron looked over at me with a cocky grin.
“Yo, dude. My brain feels fucking fried from all these plays and training drills. When’s practice again?” He flexed one massive arm casually, admiring the way his bicep peaked. “Shit, I’ve gotten huge this semester.”
I just stared, heart racing. The change had rewritten everything. His clothes, his major, his body, even his personality. The skinny English nerd was completely gone. In his place was this tattooed, muscular Sports Science jock who looked like he lived in the gym and partied every weekend.
He swung his powerful legs off the couch and stood up, towering over me. The way his quads and glutes flexed as he moved was hypnotic.
“Wanna hit the gym with me, bro? I need to get a good pump in before the game this weekend.”
He grinned, completely oblivious to the fact that just thirty seconds ago he had been complaining about Shakespeare.
I swallowed hard, trying not to stare at his incredible new body. I wondered if he would let me suck his cock. It’s not everyday you turn your nerdy roommate into an absolute beast
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