Not today Justin
Kiana Khansmith
tannertan36
No title available
izzy's playlists!
Discoholic 🪩
hello vonnie
Andulka
@theartofmadeline
ojovivo
RMH
Sade Olutola
Show & Tell
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
NASA
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
🪼
seen from Ireland
seen from Türkiye
seen from Malaysia
seen from Russia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from Türkiye
seen from Türkiye
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Israel
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
@pjworld
Jockstraps in the Laundry
A place to read some stories of gentle giants and their pet tinies.
Heyo everyone.
My bud @inanimatetffantasies is starting a new blog about macro, if you like that I'm sure you gonna love his stories.
Tank Top
Oliver dropped the weights on the floor and went to grab his towel. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and when he was walking to go to the treadmills, he heard a growl that caught his attention.
A man was sitting on a bench wearing nothing but his sweatpants, his muscular chest and bare arms free to see and delight with.
When Oliver looked at him, the man looked away shyly. This man had been looking at Oliver, which made him smile.
Oliver walked over and sat on the bench as well, sitting a little away from the
man.
"It's so hot here isn't it?" Asked the man. He smiled and nod. "I took my shirt out if that tells you something... It was so soaked in sweat that I couldn't handle it anymore."
That was true. But why was that man looking and talking to Oliver? He usually just went there, to train, and just talk with the girl at the entrance. That was a bit weird.
"Yes it is... I have been training for one hour and a half, I was heading to the treadmills to relax my body and prepare to go home..."
The man looked disappointed. Oliver didn't care, he wanted to go home, but he wanted to find out why that hot guy was talking to him.
"Ah... I know you are tired but if you stay I'm going to invite you to a smoothie."
Offered the man with a smile. He just trained... But well a healthy smoothie would come well.
"All right I'll stay... but I'll wait for you hereafter I run a bit in the thread mills." Said Oliver, letting the towel in the bench, the sweat still running down his head but the towel was soaked now.
"Well, I was wishing if you can work out with me... Let's do this..." The man looked directly at him and grabbed his left wrist. That freaked out Oliver, this man was crazy.
He wanted to escape, call for help but as the grip on his wrist turned warm, he found he couldn't talk anymore.
He looked scared to the man as his sight was losing all the colour and starting to blur at the corners. Why the hell was this happening to him?. He wanted to run but then his legs didn't work anymore making him kneel.
The hand that was holding him turns hot and it burns his own skin. And as he could see, his hand was disappearing. Then the hand move to his neck. He saw how his legs disappear at the same time that his own clothes do. His skin was turning pale and white as cotton... Actually it was turning into fabric, his inside was now just a mere emptiness, then he felt how his head was merging with his chest, turning into more fabric and in no time, everything was done.
Oliver fate was sealed.
The man, Ian, was sitting in the bench, holding a white tank top in his hands. He cleaned a bit of the sweat of his forehead with it, then pulled it on, his muscled meaty arms entering in it, his worked torso filling the inside of the shirt, making it feel wanted and complete. The soft cotton touching his skin, sending nerves to the mind of the clothing, as it absorbed the sweat, doing it's best job as it's fabric turns transparent from the sweat.
Ian smiled and stood up from the bench. He walked down the treadmills, feeling the new tank top hugging him, needing him. He chose a threadmill with a hot guy at his side, buzz cut and a hunk body.
He stepped in the machine, and start to set his training there. "Hey" Said Ian, with a warm smile while his shirt shivers in his own mind.
The man greets with the head, focused on the running.
"Want to go for a smoothie after? The guy I scheduled with never appeared." Explained Ian, starting to run feeling the tank top pressed against his body.
The other man smiled and nodded, accepting the offering, as his brown eyes looked all way down Ian, his sight locked in the muscled torso and the hot shirt.
123!!
Thank you so much to everyone. I realized I hit more than 100 followers. Thanks for all the support and I hope to keep doing stories you all will enjoy.
P.J World president.
Bad Undies
A request done for @rodgersandhypnostein. He’ll be some good briefs.
Archie knew he shouldn't have sneaked in at that party...
It was still only 4 in the afternoon, too early for such a party to begin. Everything was completely lonely and only the sound of the fountain in the pool could be heard, not even the passing of waiters or guests. No one was there but still, the front door was open, and every corner of the house decorated with elegant streamers and pictures that would almost cost more than they should.
If he had known that a party with this kind of people started so late, perhaps he would not even be there... But when he had seen the opportunity to infiltrate a party of that singer, he was not going to waste it. He let himself get carried away by the luxuries of the house and continued walking, guided by the sounds of the pool. Someone was swimming... But Archie was still walking, guided by an invisible force, a force that seemed unable to understand ... Was it a good idea to get into that house?
He went out through a wide door which led to the backyard where there was a grill, chairs, a bar for a bartender, and even a tent for the DJ. But in the center was a large pool of crystal clear, cool water for the hot day that was beginning to end. But the sun was still shining brightly in the sky and the heat of the day was still hanging around there.
The water was moving, small waves created by the swimming of the owner of the house. Archie stood where he was, staring at the man. He gulped when he saw him swim toward a set of stairs that acted as an exit; He swallowed again when he realized that the man had been swimming naked.
He started to come out of the pool, climbing step by step slowly as Archie focused on his body and his confused mind drove away thoughts of being arrested for trespassing... The man shot him a look and rolled his eyes as he grinned maliciously. The water ran down his skin almost completely pale but with a light tan.
Archie focused on the crotch and butt, but it was starting to seem fuzzy and confusing... It didn't even matter.
The man strode to the bar and poured himself a glass of whiskey... Was it whiskey or Rum? It didn’t even matter too much.
When Antonio ... Bad Bunny began to approach him slowly everything around him was nothing more than shadows and spots in a forbidden vision. What was happening to him?
"You like what you see...?"
Archie nodded, unable to find the words to answer him. When the man came to his side he brought the glass to his face and gave him a sip ... It was not whiskey or Rum, but instead, a cold red wine that cooled his burning throat but what made his mind full of ... Nothing.
Right now little more than his own name was the only thing that Archie remembered.
Maybe that gulp of wine had done so much more ... His skin felt weird like he was feeling an itch all over his body, he wanted to scratch it but couldn't. The man helped him slowly take off his clothes... Now he himself was naked in front of one of the people he admired, but even that could not make the itch disappear. He felt ashamed...
Bad Bunny put a hand on his shoulder and forced him to kneel. They were both still naked and now Archie was facing the gigantic crotch ...
Could a sip of wine make him feel like reality was bending over him? He couldn't see it but his legs were turning into white cloth, merging between them as the mysterious transformation went up to his thighs while his body was folding on itself. Archie felt like he was falling, lower and lower, and away from the man in front of him, slowly getting smaller.
The man looked at Archie from above. He looked like a powerful giant but ... What on earth had happened to Archie? Bad Bunny reached down and took it in his hands, held out his hands and Archie felt his new body stretch with this. Archie couldn't move or scream or cry... He didn't want to, he knew he had a purpose now... He wanted to be...
"Wow. .. I made some nice undies ..."
His arms moved and the man began to slide Archie down his legs. Every time the fabric of Archie's body touched the man's skin, his mind felt like he was in the middle of a thunderstorm...
When Archie was around the man's butt and crotch, absorbing that sweat and that scent and his clouded mind he could only think about it. His life as a singer's underwear had only just begun ... At a party, so that all the guests could see what he had become.
There is no room in the transformation fiction and art communities for racism.
There is no room in the transformation fiction and art communities for complacency with racism because it’s not happening to you.
To my fellow transformation blogs, writers and artists: it is highly likely that you have a following. Use it for good. Amplify black voices. Link people to places that will educate them. Show people where they can donate or sign petitions. Encourage people to vote. If you have a platform, please use it. Your silence says everything.
If you’re at all offended with me posting about #BlackLivesMatter on my blog or think that politics shouldn’t be discussed on TF blogs then please unfollow me right now.
If you’re the type to respond to these discussions with #AllLivesMatter or #BlueLivesMatter then please unfollow me right now.
If you’re planning to turn your head and stay silent about what is going on in the world then please unfollow me right now.
DASH'S MEET AND TINY
Hey you all good people. Thanks you so for all the support you all.
This is a story request I did for my buddy Corey ( @inanimatetffantasies ).
Corey was excited, maybe too much. Nerves rose from the tip of his feet and his legs trembled with excitement as he followed closely behind the man dressed in a suit, an electronic agenda and a fake smile. He was his manager ...
"This way, boy." The man reminded him when he began to see him distracted by the names on the locker room doors, the people, the staff everywhere talking to each other and trying to bet on the next match. Corey already knew who was going to win.
After what seemed like an eternity of walking, he came to a brown wooden door in which a golden plaque marked a name in carved letters. That was a special name for Corey, as it was the name of his favorite wrestler: DASH WILDER.
He took a deep breath before the manager knocked on the door, keeping all his nerves inside no matter how impossible it was.
"Come in, it's open." He heard Dash say from the other side of the door. A thick, deep voice with a strong southern accent.
The manager turned the metal knob and opened the door. Corey thought he was going to be mowed by such a man he found inside. Well, you may be wondering why Corey is there meeting Dash Wilder before a fight. The boy had won an impromptu meet and greet that had been done on Instagram. Good lucky him!
He walked into the dressing room after the manager and then he saw Dash, his broad back. His heart began to beat fast, as if she had run a 70-kilometer marathon in 6 seconds.
The fighter wore nothing more than a yellow shirt that fitted perfectly to his body, showing the curves of his waist and the muscles of his arms. A tight gray jockstrap that he wrestled with and black & white boots.
"Hey Buddy!" Dash greeted as he spun, with a kind smile that didn't seem pretended. When he turned around he could see that the shirt was stamped with a drawi from his wrestling group, The Revival, and his thick beard. Dash strode closer, his muscles moving as he do. Corey start to get thirsty. "My name is Dash, but I guess you already knew me. How about you?"
Corey was freaking out about his southern accent, about having his idol in front of him, just a few meters between them. Hiis hands were shaking but he didn't notice it.
"Co ... Corey ..." The boy started to say, his voice cracking with emotion. "Damn, Dash, it's crazy to actually be in front of you after all this time watching you on a screen."
Corey watched as Dash started laughing at Corey's sudden reaction. It was amazing to hear him laugh from so close ... Corey had made Dash Wilder laugh!
The manager left after nodding to Dash and close the door behind him.
"Well Buddy. It's always nice to meet a fan who gets so excited like you." Dash walked up to him and put a hand on his back. Corey was going to melt of the excitement right there. "Come on, come on, sit here."
Corey was guided by Dash's protective arm to a couch and timidly sat on it. Dash sat on his side in a relaxed manner, his back resting on an armrest and his left arm on his back.
"By the way you speak I see that you are European ..." The wrestler began to say, speaking calmly and relaxedly, as if he had known Corey all his life, although by his question it was clear that he didn't .
"Yes, that's right. I have an Irish accent ..." Corey tried to be a little more comfort in his seat. "Dash ... I always wondered how you do it. The amazing wrestling and impressive skills ... I'm sure you won't lose this match."
Dash smiled warmly as he scratched his right forearm.
"Thanks buddy. I'll do my best to don't lose it." Dash said gratefully. "And well, it's all thanks to years of practice and training. If you start in a few years you could be a great wrestler too." Dash flexed his left arm, revealing his massive biceps. Corey gulped ... "Come here Buddy, touch it"
Corey nodded and stood up. He timidly approached and touched her bicep with his hands. Dash's warm skin and flexed muscles under his fingers.
"Heavens Dash, it's amazing! You are like a giant full of muscles. You are sound out!" Corey let out impressed and excited.
"You like it?" Asked the eldest. Corey nodded. "Do you want to play more, buddy?"
Dash began to touch his left chest with his free hand. It was large and meaty, protruding through the shirt.
"Really?"
Dash nodded. Corey slid his hands down to Dash's muscular chest, feeling the bulging pecs under his hands, trapped by the narrow shirt. Dash took a hand from his wrist, lowered it, and tucked it between the fabric. When Corey understood, Dash released his hand and let the boy work. His hairy skin felt like a sea of madness under his fingers, he was shocked to be touching the body of his idol, as if it were a dream.
"You are amazing Dash, it seems carved by the gods."
Dash nodded but didn't speak, he was struggling not to moan there, as Corey gently squeezed one of his pecs.
A knock on the door startled them.
"Dash, 5 minutes." The voice of his manager said from the other side.
Dash was startled. They had completely forgotten about the fight. Corey stepped back and sat down on the couch.
"Shit ..." Dash cursed as he jumped up from the couch. Corey sat on the couch, ashamed. "You can stay here watching the fight" he said as he turned on a TV embedded in the wall. Then he looked straight at him, pointed a finger at him, and winked playfully. Corey began to feel strange. "We can continue our… little game later."
The boy watched as everything around him grew larger, slowly until the floor seemed to be a mortal fall away.
What the hell had happened to him? Because everything was so big and because Dash was a monstrous giant.
Dash looked at him and smiled. He approached and Corey backed away in fear. But Dash bent down and kissed him on the forehead ... the difference between the two was huge and he looked like a giant kissing a toy.
"I will play with you later." Dash said before heading out the door, leaving a miniature Corey there on the couch.
Corey ... was scared but the nerves from before were gone. He felt something in his chest as he wondered what Dash meant by what he was going to play with him later.
Time travel
2015.
My name is Reed Andrews. This was my second year of college. I was an ordinary 19-year-old boy with a slim body, average height, glasses, good grades and not popular at all. In high school my classmates used to annoyme, and that hadn't changed much since then.
Right now, I was running to save myself from Brad and his group of athletes, who wanted to practice their boxing skills with me. Brad was the captain of the football team; a tall, muscular athlete of 22 years, black hair and green eyes like grass. He used to tease me every time since I accidentally blew up his ball. Don't ask how.
I run to go inside the library, running as fast as I can, but I knew that those athletes would not take so much time to catch me up. Without focusing in where I was going, I went up to the second floor of the library and hid behind a bookshelf. As I leaned against it, a book fell to the ground, scattering a large layer of dust in the air and resonating with a great hollow roar. I coughed thanks to my dust allergy. Several bookshelves and books in that section were covered in dust, as if they hadn't been visited by anyone in a long time.
I picked up the book from the floor and managed to read it’s name on the spine: Voyage dans le temps. It was in french, and based on what I remembered from my high school french classes, it had something to do with time and a trip. Time travel?
The name caught my attention and also the book. It was medium in size, with a brown top and gold shapes and swirls that looked like gold. It had no author.
I opened the book and saw that it had a name written on the back of the cover. Written in beautiful cursive letters very similar to mine, it was written: "This book belongs to Gabriel Andrews."
I was shocked. That was my father's name. I knew that he had also been a student at this university, but I did not know that he was interested in this kind of books. I sat down on the floor and began to read it. It had about 400 pages, but many of them contained beautiful illustrations.
Just before the end of the first chapter, I was interrupted.
"Here you are!" Brad said in his powerful voice. “Grab him!” He ordered his jock subordinates.
Then I read the last word of the first chapter, which was actually a number and when I blinked, all the boys around disappeared.
1992
I still was in the library, with the book in my hand. However, several things had changed. The shelves were no longer dusty, they gleamed like new, and many of the books were different. But the biggest change was me. I was no longer wearing my shirt, revealing a spectacular new body. He had broad shoulders, bulging biceps and pecs, perfect chiseled abd, and big, athletic legs, covered only by short, (too-short), jogging pants that revealed the new bulge of my crotch. My short brown hair was gone and now a somewhat long blonde straight hair covered the upper part of my handsome and handsome face, as I could see in the reflection of a mirror a little later.
But in that reflection, I saw more than just a beautiful, blond, 19-year-old college athlete who played football. My features were very similar to my father's. So when I continued reading the book, I discovered that I had traveled to 1992, but not only that, but to my father's body in 1992.
In order not to make this story very long, I will only say that I never found a way to return to my body in the future apart from the most obvious one, which was to get used to my new reality and reach the future and the same moment in which I left. In 23 years.
Getting used to being my father was not very difficult, because I knew him and I knew how he behaved. I was a star player in college with a great future career as a professional player, different from what my father was in my time because he was a high school coach.
But being a handsome, bisexual boy in 1992 was incredible. I managed to have sex with a lot of pretty boys and girls. Until one day I mess everything up. Some day I received some news and 9 months later, my first son was born, whom his mother called him... guess how: Brad. From that moment I knew that my father's story had changed. But there was nothing I could do to change it. Would it create a great paradox if I decided not to get myself born in three years?
The Soldiers
Isaac couldn't believe how much his life have changed. Just two months ago he joined the army and now he spent the whole day on Sergeant Stone's shoulder learning what it took to be a good soldier. A rookie mini soldier! Who would have thought it? It was all his fault, obviously, after going inside a room that had a sign saying clearly that no one was allowed to access. Well, while Isaac learned duty on the day, at night the sergeant enjoyed the new size of the private in the room they now shared.
THE RUNNING SOCK
I was doing a jog in the bay walk. For some time I didn't go out to walk and this seemed like a good time. The sea was calm and the soothing sound of the waves mingled with the faltering squawk of seagulls.
I was totally focused on seeing the reflection of the city on the water when I heard a splashing sound and I felt my left foot fill with mud and dirty water.
"Damn ..."
I walked slowly towards a stone bench, feeling the mud get into my running shoes and dirtying all my sock. I was grateful that it had only been a shoe that had stepped on that puddle of mud. I put my left leg on my right thigh and make sure not to get my hands dirty, I took off my slipper while growling, reproaching myself for being so distracted. The shoe could be cleaned but the sock was dirty and wet. I made it a ball and threw it into a nearby trash can.
"Good shot." I heard a soft voice with an Irish accent say as he approached. The boy was tall, with a normal body, dark hair and eyes like the ocean.
"Thank you." I replied curtly. Not quite sure why that unknown person was talking to me. Maybe ... I moved my left foot toes, the warm midday air warmed the soles of my feet, sweaty from the jog.
"An accident?" The boy asked again. He did not seem to be very talkative but tried to make an effort to speak. I discovered his intentions in an instant.
"Shut up and kneel" I ordered him, he nodded and I put both feet on the ground. Raise my eyebrows and point my eyes to my bare foot. The boy lowered his torso and started kissing my toes ... I felt bad for what I was going to do to him, he seemed like a good boy.
I snapped my fingers of my left hand and saw the boy begin to change. The edges of his body began to turn white and look like cotton ... no, it was cotton. His arms and legs became empty as they began to unite with the merge of his body, his clothes were absorbed by his body and in the blink of an eye, I felt the last kiss and when I saw, a white cotton sock rested on my foot. I took it, feeling the boy's new skin squirm when he touched it, engulfed by the pleasure of his new cotton body.
I washed my shoe at a nearby water faucet and agreed to put on my new stocking. It felt comfortable around my foot, warm and absorbent. I stretched my stoes in the sock and felt a couple of tremors ... eventually he would get used to it.
I put on my shoe and started my walk again, feeling how my new sock hugged my foot with love while absorbing all the sweat and bad smell from my foot
