HispanicHimbo

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Dashboard

Yo what’s up! I’m not as active on here anymore, but I have a ton of stories stocked up to repost someday. I’ll swing by every now and then. I wanted to make a dashboard to make it easier for you guys to look around my archive.

I’ll add more tags one day, just too lazy to ✌️

For any known creators looking, Hii!! Big fan :]

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Part 2 Here: dashboard-part-2

[forthegaze123]

Maybe it's time for you to wind up little bit? I can help you with that, making you a new person and just forget about your office stuff.

[maningup]

ALPHA-BOTIZE

A/N: Hey everyone here's your actual Christmas present, the last Halloween story!

---

“A,B,C, D,E, F—”

“Stupid infomercials, stupid phonics.” Marc flicked through the channels on TV, looking for something good to watch. His arms were crossed and legs spread out as he took up all the space on the couch. He wanted to make sure it was clear how much he didn’t want to be here. But even with his unzipped red hoodie and dark blue jeans he was so much more than your average moody teenager.

Marc didn’t hate babysitting, or even his cousin Oliver for that matter. What he hated was being Voluntold by his parents to watch a family member who was frankly too old, in his opinion, to have a babysitter. Why couldn’t his aunt and uncle just hire a babysitter instead of always taking up Marc’s precious time, like he didn't have anything better to do? Or just leave him home alone? What was Oliver going to do to burn down the house while streaming on Twitch?

They were always sneaky with it too, running to Marc’s parents instead of asking him directly. How lucky they were Marc happened to be suspended for a senior prank. How was he supposed to know they had hidden cameras in the back of the chem lab? And all he got for it was covered in gunk, a concussion, and temporary ringing in his ears.

His aunt and uncle came waltzing down the stairs, all happy smiles, bags back for an extended weekend getaway. Marc grinded his teeth, scowling, knowing they could see his side profile. But they didn’t care, they didn't even really look before waving him off and heading out the door. Once they were gone for good, Marc got up, slamming his hands on the couch. Sauntering over to the fridge. He threw the top twin doors open, something his aunt and uncle would have hated. Their fridge was an irritating distillation of their entire house, neatly packed Tupperware, all labeled and stored by size. His eyes drifted to a few of the cabinets above the sink labeled with small laminated scraps of paper in alphabetical order: SPICES, TUPPERWEAR, VINEGARS. 

Rolling his eyes, he grabbed for the Tupperware filled with grapes. He was welcomed to anything in the house if he played along to their stupid house rules. Not exactly fair when he had to be there. Why did he need to know the alphabet like an Etymologist to navigate a house, let alone a freaking kitchen? He ripped a grape off the vine as if he were bored with life, strolling to the front of the house. The entire family’s shoes were stored by the door in size order. His uncle’s, his aunt’s, then Oliver’s for every pair they owned. Their bookcase, organized by the authors’ last names alphabetically. It was too damn much. But there was a saving grace.

Marc plopped down in the family’s window reading nook in the front of the house, watching the scene across the street. The universe must have empathized with Marc and offered him a boon, for as cursed as he was to be here, he was also blessed. There was a reason his aunt and uncle had to get away more frequently these days. Did it have something to do with the collection of hot young men all living across the street in one house? Hell, yeah it did! 

Alpha Tau Zeta.

Marc could never have expected when he saw the construction of the letters being put up, a year ago, what it would mean for his future. A fraternity had moved into the block and was not warmly received. At family gatherings, his aunt and uncle would complain. The frat threw parties, drank, and more generally caused quite a raucous during the day. All the neighbors wanted them out, but police would argue the young men did technically obey the noise laws. After 10 pm their music was at reasonable levels, and before 10pm the neighbors had no basis for complaints. Marc loved that his uncle and aunt had some cosmic retribution for making his life miserable.

The best part for Marc though was seeing the frat boys always hanging out in their front yard. It was a large yard for the largest house on the block. They’d chill and talk, some would suntan, others put out hammocks. Marc’s personal favorite was when they decided to play sports, tossing frisbee’s, throwing footballs, the shirts would come off, and the abs would come out. The frat boys were in amazing shape, some bulkier, some leaner but all eye catching. And thankfully they didn’t even need to be playing sports to go shirtless; it was most of their default states. But watching those v lines in action on the sluttiest of waists, always made Marc feel like he was going to faint. Even better, there always seemed to be more brothers to learn about.

This week was a slightly different flavor: this was pledge week. Marc had watched it build to this from afar, like tuning into his favorite show, but only catching certain episodes. He remembered the rushing, and a few of the special events when he came over previous times. Sadly, he had missed a majority of the pledging rituals this week, but his aunt and uncle had certainly had enough. Enough to leave their son and make their nephew watch their house. 

Currently the pledges were all lined up in the front yard as one of the frat brothers, Grayson, shirtless walked down the line saying words, muffled by the windowpane. Marc hated to admit it but he had learned all the brother names and even came up with fake backstories in his head for them to pass the time when babysitting. Deciding to be just a bit nosey, he lifted the window to hear what Grayson was saying.

“Don’t forget, We’re Alphas. And Alphas what?”

“Don’t lose!” The pledges responded in unison.

“Alphas what?” Grayson leaned in, hand on his ear.

“Don’t lose!”

“That’s what I thought, now get out there and complete that scavenger hunt.” Grayson commanded and the young men took off running in different directions up and down the neighborhood. Marc sighed, realizing he had picked the worst possible time to listen in. Defeated, he stepped away from the window and went upstairs. He gave three knocks and heard “Come in.”  Stepping inside, Marc knew he would never understand how such a spotless room belonged to another teenager like him. Old comic books were neatly stacked on the floor, toys that hadn't been touched in years were relegated to labeled bins in the corner, abandoned instruments like the clarinet and harmonica sat nicely perched on his dresser. It felt more like a show room than one where someone actually lived and slept.

“No, don’t go that way!” Oliver shouted at his two monitors, headset on; he was locked in. He was wearing a black sweater vest over a white dress shirt, along with khaki pants: his parents’ preferred attire. Chat scrolling on one side, his game running on the other. “Idiots!” He shouted at his team members.

“What do you want for dinner, dude?” Marc asked.

“Huh?” Oliver said before lifting his headset slightly off one ear. “Can’t we just have pizza again?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“I think your parents will actually kill me if I order pizza again.” Marc smirked, walking closer to watch Oliver’s game. 

Oliver sighed, “Yeah…they would. They’re allergic to fun things.” He pulled his headset’s microphone close to his mouth, “You guys suck, I’m hopping off.”  Oliver spun up from his chair and gave his cousin a quick hug, before walking over to his bed and collapsing. “Everything sucks, my parents, my teammates.”

“Uh? We can still hear you, man.” A voice said from the computer.

“Am I wrong?” Oliver shouted back.

Chuckling, Marc reached over and muted Oliver’s mic. “Hey, I get it your parents are a lot, but it’s not all bad.” He nodded to Oliver’s window and the Alpha Tau Zeta house across the street. He took a glance out and caught Grayson in the yard tossing a football with other brothers, brown hair kicking up in the breeze. 

“Ugh, I’m not you. What’s so cool about a frat anyway? All they do is chant day and night and make the new guys say things like ‘sigma, tau, upsilon, phi.’” Oliver lowered his voice to really try and get their jockiness across.

“Why would they say those words? I know what ‘sigma’ is but those others?” Marc asked, not taking his attention from Grayson.

“I don’t know, it's like a test they’re practicing for or something. Day in and day out. It fades into the background eventually,” Oliver grunted. “I wouldn't even care if my parents didn’t constantly ask.”

“I think dems are just the breaks of home schooling, kid.” Marc walked away from the window to offer Oliver a grape, which his cousin took with a pout. “Why can’t we ever hang out at your house?” Oliver asked.

“Oh god,” Marc almost choked on his spit, “Your parents aren’t religious, but I’m sure they’d freak out as if you were walking into the devil’s home.” He sat on his cousin’s bed and rubbed the boy's arm as Oliver groaned into his pillow. “Hey, it’s not all bad one day you’ll be in college like those frat boys and able to do all kinds of stuff without your parents knowing.”

Oliver squinted at Marc in disbelief, “Is that supposed to make me feel better, they’re so lame.”

“How can they be lame? They’re hot!” Marc stated.

“There can be lame hot people.” Oliver retorted.

Marc playfully rolled his eyes, “I don’t believe that.”

Oliver hopped up on his bed, “There definitely are!”

Shrugging, Marc closed his eyes, “Sounds fake to me.” 

Oliver moved closer, hands on Marc’s arm shaking his cousin. “I’m telling you, it’s the truth.” 

Marc let the upper half of his body fall to the wayside of the bed, along with Oliver’s pushing. As Marc played dead Oliver hovered over him. Then, out of nowhere Marc jumped up, one arm reaching for the sky. “I have the answer: dinner tonight will be…Chinese food.” That made Oliver happy and had the added benefit of stopping Oliver’s slander of the hunks across the street. They were Marc’s only solace in these trying times. He couldn’t handle it if Oliver had something to actually say against them. 

Once downstairs, Marc put the grapes away, purposefully on the wrong shelf. His aunt and uncle could fix it later. He ordered the Chinese food before hopping back on the couch. The TV was on, but instead, he was actively looking to his right, watching the football get passed back and forth. Marc’s eyelids got heavier as he waited for his food to arrive until he was asleep. 

By the time Marc opened his eyes, it was dark outside. There was a knock at the door as he got up. He checked his phone and 2 goddamn hours later the Chinese food was here. Marc exchanged little words with the driver, pissed, but looking over the man’s shoulders, he spotted the boys of Alpha Tau Zeta in a similar formation that morning. The only difference was that fake candles were lit around them. There seemed to be a real song and dance going on over there.

“No, you got it wrong, repeat it again. When the presidents ask what will you say?” Grayson barked, more aggressively than he’d been that morning. Not wanting to creep out the delivery guy with his gazing, Marc took the food and closed the door. He strode over to the window, nook turning off the TV so he could listen back to the guys.

“Theta, Iota, Kappa, Lambda…” the voices drone on in unison, but then after ‘Lambda’ different voices fought to get various words out. Grayson wasn’t happy about it and instead of repeating themselves made them all do pushups. “You fail together; you succeed together. But when the time comes you must be able to recite it on your own. That’s the Alpha way. An Alpha does not drag his pack down but instead raises them up. Do you understand?”

“Sir, yes sir!” the pledges answered. 

Marc snickered to himself, what were werewolves or something? As hot as they were maybe there were some small lame parts about them, but then again maybe that was most frats. Standing up, food in hand, Marc headed for the stairs; Oliver was going to get a kick out of this. He knocked on the door to no answer. He stood for a minute before turning the knob and walking in “Food’s here, Finally! You’re probably starving.”  Marc froze looking ahead. Oliver was back at his computer, staring at an empty home screen. 

“Hey, time to eat. Let’s go downstairs!” Marc said, getting closer.” Oliver’s voice was mumbling words over and over. By the time Marc could see his cousin’s face he knew something was wrong. Oliver's eyes were deadlocked straight ahead, body stiff, and no amount of snapping, clapping, or even light slapping made him stop. Oliver wasn’t a jokester and Marc was finding a new reason to hate that fact. “Wake up, Oliver this isn’t funny!” he kneeled, shaking his cousin’s shoulders.

Oliver went on, “Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta, Epsilon, Zeta, Eta, Theta, Iota, Kappa, Lambda, Mu, Nu, Xi, Omicron, Pi, Rho, Sigma, Tau, Upsilon, Phi, Chi, Psi, Omega.” Marc’s head throbbed at the words, thinking he heard something else. The throbbing was similar to when he blacked out and got soaked in his own chem prank.

Marc paused as he recognized the actual words. It’s what the frat boys were repeating downstairs and even words Oliver said earlier: The Greek alphabet. But damn why didn't Oliver stress the important ones like Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta, and Omega sooner, the ones people actually knew.  Who even cared about most of the random ones in between?! Regardless, Oliver was on an endless loop, regurgitating the same words again and again. 

“Uh,” Marc looked outside at the frat still doing their punishment. “Just don’t go anywhere.” He set down the food and held his hands out cautiously as he slowly backed to the door. With one last look he ran downstairs and out the door, yelling across the street, “Hey, hey I need your help,” he waved his hand. Pledges' heads turned to look at him.

“I didn’t say stop.” Grayson commented. He turned to Marc, “How can I help you? I assure you we’re not breaking the noise laws.”

“No, not that.” Marc waved, bent over hands on his knees. “My cousin keeps repeating. That Alphabet you guys were saying earlier. Only he can’t stop.”

“What?” Grayson looked over at the house. His face pondered for a moment before saying “Can you show me?” Marc agreed and led Grayson away. 

Once back in the house, Grayson entered Oliver’s room, walking closer, squatting down, and mouthing words until his voice joined Oliver’s. As much as Marc wanted to ogle at the shirtless Grayson kneeling in the room, it was hard not to think Grayson was putting himself in the same predicament as Oliver. Grayson and Oliver’s voice fell into a pattern, matching each other. Their voices began to flow, timing exactly the same, no seconds wasted. Marc began to feel woozy listening to it as if the room was off kilter. There was a moment, their voices melded into one. Not a combination of voices, but a new voice, deeper than either Grayson’s or Oliver’s. It spoke with clarity. “Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta, Epsilon, Zeta, Eta, Theta, Iota, Kappa, Lambda, Mu, Nu, Xi, Omicron, Pi, Rho, Sigma, Tau, Upsilon, Phi, Chi, Psi, Omega.”

Eventually, Grayson stopped speaking and let Oliver continue. The single voice was no longer as strong, but still way too deep to belong to Oliver’s vocal cords. Oliver’s mouth was moving but it looked like he was being dubbed in real time. 

The world became weightless for Marc as Oliver spoke. “Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta, Epsilon, Zeta, Eta, …. Phi, Chi, Psi, Omega.” Marc’s mind glitched in the middle, skipped straight to the end for no discernible reason. And once again, there was something else he’d heard, that wasn’t the words they were saying and conveyed so much more, but Marc couldn’t quite pick at it.

Grayson joined Oliver one last time and as they spoke, Oliver’s voice lightened until it was his own. Marc tried to focus on listening and hone in on what he heard. A snap of Grayson’s fingers after ‘Omega’ and Oliver blinked. He looked around at Marc and Grayson. But before either cousin could say anything, Grayson put a finger on Oliver’s chest. “You got an Alpha inside you. You are an Alpha. Like me.” He smirked.

Oliver winced, “Like those guys?”  He could hear complaining about pushups from down on the street.

“Pfft!” Grayson snorted. “That’s mostly for show, our brothers don’t often come to us, we gotta find them. Some alphas are born; others are…made.” Grayson nodded his head from side to side on the last word. “But the best, are a bit of both.”

“And that’s me?” Oliver asked.

“That can be you.” Grayson answered. “You should think about joining us.”

Grayson’s ass was right there looking firm as a peach, but Marc’s head was throbbing. What had he heard when they were repeating the alphabet? Also, this guy wasn’t making a lot of sense. How in the world could Oliver join them? He didn’t even go to their college. “Hey, thanks…. for your help…and all, but I think it’s time for you to go.” Marc's words struggled to leave his mouth. He had to hold onto the dresser to prevent himself from falling over. 

Standing up, Grayson turned to face Marc, a blank expression on his face. Words were exchanged between both of them, but Marc couldn’t process what was being said. While Grayson was talking, Marc’s eyes landed on his pecs. They were bouncing a bit, but the more they talked, the more active Grayson’s chest got. Grayson talked on as if he was completely unaware, while the world and the room unraveled and came apart for Marc. His body hit the floor. He was out cold.

A hint of a scent drifted in his nose, triggering a memory. There was the sensation of being pulled at light speed towards a foreign destination not through space, but time. Marc was suddenly sitting at a desk, his old teacher walking around. “A, B, C, stay with me, E, F, G.” A memory from kindergarten, how odd. His teacher kept clapping the tempo. The memory dissolved.

Marc's eyes snapped open as he shot up from Oliver’s bed, Oliver nowhere to be found. Haggard, Marc stumbled out of the bed and went to the stairs, holding onto the banister as he went down. He could hear the TV playing and, sure enough, Oliver was curled up on the couch eating canned peach slices from the can stored in Tupperware. His cousin had on a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. Marc was used to his cousin dressing down when it was just them two, but he didn’t even know Oliver owned jeans.

 “What happened last night? After I passed out, that is?”, Marc walked in rubbing his head

Oliver looked up at him and smiled, “You’re awake!” He set down the peaches and turned to face Marc. “Grayson, lifted you off the floor and put you in my bed.” Marc squeezed his eyes, groaning, “He had been in Grayson’s arms, and didn't even get to enjoy it?! Oliver went on, “he also said I should become an Alpha brother.”

There was a loud whistle from outside as Alpha Tau Zeta came jogging up the street. Or rather one of the brothers, Hector, was leading sweating fumbling pledges, all shirtless, while he dribbled a miniature basketball flawlessly in step. He was undoubtedly showing off to the underclassmen... Marc’s tongue rolled around his mouth. Those Alphas were really just built differently, such a disparity of bodies between Hector and the pledges. Hector was a Latinx, 6’2 god with the darkest tuft of hair that flopped in the front with every step, flowing down into his beard, framing his face with the perfect masculine—

“What?”  Marc said, realizing he had zoned out. “No, that can't be right. Why would he say that? That's stupid.”

“It’s not stupid!” Oliver stood up on the couch, Marc leaned back not expecting the aggressiveness. Normally, what would have led to simple teasing had genuinely angered Oliver, “Being an Alpha is serious.” 

Marc's eyes scanned Oliver, for some reason his cousin felt taller. “Okay, come down, but you have to admit last night was strange.”

Rolling his eyes, Oliver flopped down and grabbed his peaches munching, silently. 

“What, are we not going to talk about it?” Marc asked. Oliver shrugged, no answer. “Whatever,” Marc turned away to go take a shower. By the time he came back, Oliver was gone. The TV was still playing, but the peaches were gone. Marc looked around the house for him, but Oliver had dipped. Walking back downstairs, Marc went over to the bookshelf. If Oliver didn’t want to be found, Marc wouldn’t try. 

Scanning the books, Marc took a finger and swiped across their spines under the author’s names, “Alpha, Beta…” Marc stopped himself. He had meant to say “A, B” but the Alpha's words had come up instead. He groaned. He still had last night on the brain. Of course, he did it was freaking weird and Oliver didn’t want to talk about it at all? The same cousin who once prattled off about the original banana dying in the 1950’s, leading to the taste discrepancy between artificial banana flavor and bananas today? Even Weirder.

Well damn, if the frat was going to play mind games the least they could do was put on a good show for Marc. He slipped a book out of the line up and went to his favorite reading nook, for Alpha watching. Today was a good one. After that run, the frat had brought out four pull-up bars to test the pledges upper strength. Now the pledges themselves weren’t much to look at, but the Alpha’s standing on the side? Good enough for Marc. He didn't know how many the pledges were tasked to do, but the brothers were yelling for them to continue. As one set of pledges switched out, Marc’s mouth dropped when he saw Oliver lining up to do the next set. Before he could do anything, charging from his peripheral vision towards the house was Mr. Galtieri. 

Mr. Galtieri was another neighbor on the block. He was a mid-50’s portly man, who had a way of making even the briefest of greetings long winded. Marc did his best to avoid him when taking out the trash lest he have an hour of his life down the drain. But today was not the friendly older fellow Marc had come to know. It was a charging bull, yelling all kinds of things. It went on for a good 2 mins. Marc sly lifted the window to listen in on what exactly the man was yelling. 

“I can stand a lot but hazing on my block?! Unacceptable. The constant yelling at these poor young men.” Mr. Galtieri pointed at the freshman but stopped when he saw Oliver. “And now you're roping your neighbors into it? Oliver, go home.”

Hector raised his hands up, as if not wanting a confrontation, “Whoa, ese. This hardly counts as hazing. If they can’t hack it, they’re just not Alphas.”

“Also, our neighbor over here asked to join us. He was bored and we had a spot to spare. No harm done.” Grayson added in such a relaxed way, it was laced in condescension.

“No harm, done? For days you Alphas have been dragging these boys through the streets with your runs, and standing on your lawn yelling ‘Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta, Epsilon, Zeta, Eta, Theta, Iota, Kappa, Lambda, Mu, Nu, Xi, Omicron, Pi, Rho, Sigma, Tau, Upsilon, Phi, Chi, Psi, Omega’ stop asking them to get it, they’re never going to get it.” Mr. Galtieri exclaimed. 

Hector and Grayson exchanged looks with each other, something Marc couldn’t decipher. But damn he wished they would’ve kissed each other at that moment. Might have broken the tension. Instead, it only got heightened when Marc heard that rich silky voice break in.

“What’s going on here?” Skylar, one of the co-presidents of the frat, stood at the open front door. The only things he had on were jeans and a beaded shark tooth necklace. Marc almost passed out right there. No shirt, no shoes, but he was giving all the service. Blonde hair, blue eyes, Skylar looked like a jockier version of a surfer from a 90’s move. His chest was sitting two mounds of muscle, with the necklace nuzzled between. 

“Sky,” Hector said, grabbing his president’s attention, then nodded at Mr. Galtieri.

“I see...” The words rolled off Skylar's tongue tantalizingly slow, as if the frat boy himself were tasting them. He strode forward, his entire body in tune with his march, arms striding powerfully, accompanied by heavy footsteps down their walkway. “So, Mr. Galtieri, right?” His voice was casual and open, but not in the faux way Grayson had used. There was something that rang a bit truer in his presentation of friendliness. “Would you mind repeating the Greek alphabet for our pledges here? They could really learn something.” He slid behind the older man putting an arm on his back as presented him to the pledges.

Once again, Mr. Galtieri rattled off the words, though Marc wasn’t sure why. The man had just been yelling and now was complying. But the second time around Marc heard what sounded like another voice under the man’s words. As Mr. Galtieri reached ‘Omega’, Sky removed his necklace, holding the beads in his left hand as the tooth dangled in Mr. Galtieri’s face. “Again.” Sky said and Mr. Galtieri went back to the start. When the man ended that set, Sky roared “Again!”, as his necklace swung like a pendulum. A weird sight on its own but Marc’s eyes drifted to the pledges and Oliver who were standing there silently. Meanwhile, Grayson and Hector were leaning into each other, chuckling and pointing at Mr. Galtieri. Naturally, Marc’s eyes went back to Mr. Galtieri and he got a shock. Fat was burning off of Mr. Galtieri’s body at an impossible rate, the big belly he often carted around deflated in a second. And while it was hard to notice at first Marc certainly realized when Mr. Galtieri’s hair was suddenly all completely dark brown and healthy.

“Why don't you show the pledges, how it’s done?” Skylar pointed to the pull up bars. Mr. Galtieri or whoever had been Mr. Galtieri, walked himself over, clothes sagging on his body, jumped and grappled the bar. It was the first time Marc could see Mr. Galtieri’s face head on and now there was a sexier version of Mr. Galtieri looking back. A jolt ran through Marc when he saw the new Mr. Galtieri, and the teen fell off the reading nook, ass on the floor. He sat on the floor, not wanting to get up and confirm what he saw. Worst of all, how come no one else out there reacted to it?  Even Oliver stood like a statue, not reacting the slightest to it. 

Gathering his thoughts, and his courage, Marc stood back up, just in time to see Mr. Galtieri hop off the bar and be led inside the frat house by Grayson and Hector.  Skylar watched them go, then clapped, as the pledges appeared to come to. Before the nonsense could continue Marc ran out the door, headed to retrieve Oliver. “Oliver, come on, it's time to go.”  He said. Skylar turned to look at him, and those eyes were so blue, Marc almost stopped running. Almost. And he couldn't help that his eyes went lower. His mind begged him to shove Skylar up against a tree and plow him. But that was horny brain thinking and not the ‘WTF just happened here’ brain.

Skylar planted himself in front of Marc and Oliver’s path home. “Don’t you want to see how Oliver does?” His calm tone carried a tempting whimper. “He might work up a sweat like me.” Skylar raised his arm and Marc’s feet carried him forward. Marc pressed his nose into Skylar's pits. There was no B.O. Skylar smelled like sea salt and the beach, a warm summer afternoon. Marc got lost in it as his mind drifted to those crashing waves. 

Marc came to, standing in his aunt and uncle’s kitchen, over a boiling pot. “What was I looking for?” He opened a cabinet, “Sigma, Tau” Then shook his head, “Sea Salt.” He remembered he was in the middle of making spaghetti and wanted to add sea salt to the noodles' water. He took his finger and raced it along the cabinet labels. The front door opened as Oliver stepped in, caked in sweat, a sunset-sky behind him. Marc stared at him, “You got taller.”

“I don’t think so.” Oliver closed the door. His khaki shorts were riding up to his mid-thigh, and he had on an oversized tank top, clinging to his skin, showing burgeoning muscle beneath. Where Marc’s studious younger cousin once stood was a much wilder looking teen. Oliver’s carefully brushed hair was matted with sweat, strands flying every which way. The boy’s cooped-up pale gaming skin had seemingly lost its sun-sensitivity and taken on a healthy tan shade.

“That wasn’t a question,” Marc scratched his head, partly to confused as to why he wouldn’t let him go. The smell of sea salt boiling in the pot grew stronger. Marc felt compelled to finish cooking, but he wasn’t done talking. Especially not after Oliver ignored him and strolled to the couch, hopping over the spine like a heathen. Oliver’s parents would kill them both if shoe marks got on there.

Flicking off the stove light, Marc charged into the living room and snatched the remote from Oliver’s hands. 

“Hey!” Oliver cried.

“Where were you before now?” Marc asked. 

“With the Alphas.” Oliver gave a divisive snort, as if the answer should have been obvious.

“Is that where you got that outfit?” Used the remote to point up and down Oliver’s body.

“My shirt ripped while doing pushups, and one of the brothers gave me one of theirs. No big deal.” He leaned his arm over the spine, legs spread apart, sitting like a cocky little shit. 

Marc dragged a hand over his face, tempering his response. “Dude I’m pretty sure your parents curate your wardrobe, you think they won't notice. They’ll see that and think I gave it to you.”

“As if you could wear something this cool, you’re not even swole.”  Oliver flexed the arm at his side and surprisingly there was a hill of muscle that inched higher the longer he stayed flexed. However, Oliver wasn't exactly filling the shirt out either. The damn thing looked like property of one of the beefy guys in the frat. Oliver saw that Marc was not impressed, “Why are you even riding my ass? Skylar said you’d be cool now and wouldn't care.”

Marc’s left hand slammed over Oliver’s mouth, eyes darting around the room. The chances his aunt and uncle had the place bugged were too high. He could imagine them, the nuts that they were, having trigger alarms for curse words. He breathed a sigh of relief when nothing went off. Oliver, annoyed, removed Marc’s hand. By then Marc had actually processed the words Oliver said. “Wait, what did Skylar say?”

Oliver let out a grunt, sat forward and dragged his hands on his face, “Nothing.” He got up and went upstairs. Marc had no idea when Oliver became such a brat, but turning his head towards the frat house he had a pretty idea why. Staring out, he saw two guys sitting on the porch steps, sharing beers illuminated by the porch lights. Marc leaned closer; he had made a habit of remembering every brother in the frat. A good pastime in this boring neighborhood.  And while Marc knew Asad, from any angle, he had no idea who the newest shirtless white dude with the hairy burly chest was. Good view though. As he went to turn away, his mind pinged with an image of Mr. Galtieri from that afternoon. There was no fucking way, right? Marc let it go from the sheer absurdity of it. But now he had a new hot guy to add to the roster. So, it really was a win for him anyway.

When dinner was done, he called for Oliver. His cousin came jogging down the steps with nothing but a towel around his waist, having freshly showered. Marc stared at him in disbelief from the dinner table as Oliver walked very collectedly–no it was more than that. Oliver was strutting around, hips swaying, as he whistled a tune. His loud footsteps slapped onto the kitchen floor. He loaded his plate with lots of noodles and extra meat sauce, then headed to the couch.

“Aht, Aht! Sit here.” Marc pointed at the chair across from him at the table. It was like Oliver completely forgot how annoying his parents were about everything. And for some reason decided now was his chance to have a modicum of rebellion when Marc was stuck with him. 

Oliver turned on his heels, plate in one hand, a smug smile on his face, as if he’d almost gotten away with it. He walked to the table and plopped down, his ass colliding with the seat with a strong force. Marc was surprised to hear the thud, having not expected the landing body weight. The more he stared though the thicker Oliver looked. As in, Oliver actually had water droplets, dripping off his pecs. Pecs! When did that chest come in? Then the bulked arms that sat down Oliver’s plate. 

“Where are your clothes?” Marc asked. In truth, he didn’t give a shit what Oliver wore, dress code wasn’t in his job description but paired with Oliver’s behavior it was concerning. 

“Alphas, don’t wear clothes, when they don’t want to.” Oliver stated, digging into his spaghetti.

Marc scoffed, If that were the case he should have seen a lot more dicks and asses, or at the very least naked mud wrestling. Lord knows those Alpha boys were screaming to be undressed with more than Marc’s eyes. Marc watched Oliver devour the food on his plate shoving it into his mouth and down his throat. For a boy who normally ate like a mouse he was packing it away like a rat. The food didn’t even seem to hit his gut, but Marc would have sworn his pecs had doubled in size. Oliver stood up from the table, taller than we he sat down and Marc clocked that shit. But he wasn’t going to be gaslit this time. Oliver came back with his next plate and kept stealing glances at Marc while he whistled that dumb tune again.

Homing in on the cadence, and intentional pattern, Marc realized it wasn’t from one of Oliver’s games. It was the same way the Alphas chanted that stupid alphabet. The thought only popped in his mind because he recalled how his old teacher clapped the ABC’s. There was a pattern for the Alpha’s too. Marc’s head got a bit woozy as he gripped the table, and Oliver kept going. An annoying buzz was in Marc’s head, attempting to make the world fade away. And suddenly Marc remembered the sensations from Grayson and Skylar. However, Oliver's attempt was too weak, like a gentle breeze trying to affect where a storm had plowed through. Marc closed his eyes, feeling the world sow back together for him. He kept them closed, listening to the tune, taking it in. Then he heard it, even without words; a message that was communicated as clear as day to him now. Not the Greek alphabet, but the words underneath that promised more. Marc honed in on what he heard repeating it back, but what left his mouth was, “Upsilon, Phi, Chi, Psi, Omega,” as he matched up with Oliver’s whistling. Oliver hitched for a second, but started right at the beginning, this time speaking the words.

Marc opened his eyes and found Oliver matching his pace. Oliver’s forehead was sweating fiercely, face scrunched. In their words the message was clear to Marc: DOMINANCE, POWER, SUPERIORITY. They were questions and a promise. Alphas seeking, Alphas wanting, Alphas transforming, Alphas becoming. They sought their brothers and others like them. The reverse existed as well, demanding all others who could not hear the true cry fall in line.

But even though Oliver was saying the words, he didn’t seem to be connecting with them how Marc had. Not even Grayson, nor Skylar seemed to truly get what they were doing. Grayson’s tits, Skylar’s smell, Oliver's whistling. Marc’s mind raced. They hadn’t spoken the words because they didn’t always need to. Every Alpha was an embodiment of it. It was in their blood, their pecs, their faces, legs, their asses, and no doubt their cocks. Had the phrase become so embedded into the Alpha’s Fraternity’s being, they didn’t even recognize it? Even though they were performing it in multiple ways. When Skylar swung that necklace, Marc could hear it, buried, cutting through the wind, but it was there. 

So, Marc tried something, instead of Alpha’s message baked into the words, he pushed something new. His mouth spoke the Greek alphabet, but Marc’s mind was on Oliver behaving and not being a pain in his ass. “Omega.” They said in unison. Oliver didn’t move. Marc snapped his fingers like Grayson had done that first night. Oliver woke up and resumed eating. No more annoyed or smug signs of body language. He got up normally, washed his plate, thanked Marc and disappeared upstairs. Marc walked to the bottom of the stairs listening to Oliver talking to friends, over discord. 

There was no way in hell he did that right? He turned his head out to the Alpha Tau Zeta frat house. Could he really get in tune to their secret phrase thanks to a botched chemistry prank? Was it from the chemical reaction or the brain injury, both, did it even matter? He continued eating, finishing his first plate, thinking. When Grayson and Skylar whammied him he’d gotten the transmission: SUBMIT. That led to him sleeping and back in the house. So, it wasn’t like he was immune to it, but its effects seemed limited. He didn’t think he was supposed to be able to break from their phrase or notice things like Oliver’s and Mr. Galtieri’s changes. And with that in mind the frat was able to change people at will and could apparently do it over time, or in the moment. Did they get a kick out of it? Or was it like washing their hands; a natural occurrence, they didn’t think twice about. A body shiver travelled through Marc.

The next morning, Marc walked from the guest room, yawning, to his cousin’s room. He scratched his stomach, as he gave a quick knock, opening the door, “Hey yo, it’s time to get—

Oliver was asleep in bed, face down, head turned to the side of his pillow. His body was bulkier than last night, another 20 pounds having snuck onto him, back filling up the mattress. Marc however was rendered speechless, by the massive bubble ass staring back at him. Oliver’s covers had been pulled down to his knees, and he was completely naked. All skin from Marc’s view. Marc walked backwards, closing the door. His cock tented his pajama shorts. He couldn’t fucking believe it; the first Alpha he’d seen naked and it was his cousin in the process of becoming one. The universe didn’t just have cosmic retribution; it had a sense of humor.

Though that did leave a horny question in Marc’s mind as he walked away. If that’s what an Alpha in process looked like, what did the actual Alpha’s asses look like. And what were they packing in the front? Now maybe that wasn't the proper thing to think, but what else did he have for entertainment in this suburb? There was no way watching TV or reading a book was more compelling than this.

Perhaps a little too overconfident, Marc stepped outside, with some morning hot chocolate in his hand drinking it up. “Ah!” He took a sip gazing directly across the street, no shame. He knew the frat’s game now. In fact, he knew it more than they did. Those Alphas thought they said a phrase, wiggled their fingers, etc. and stuff happened, but Mark knew the intricacies of what they were really doing. Almost like he was dissecting a superpower. There was currently only one frat brother outside. Lean body, shooting hoops as it stopped letting the basketball bounce and roll away. The Alpha brother turned. But Marc already knew it was Trey, the other Co-Captain of the frat. Smooth black skin, a body chiseled from stone, and a face card that never declined.

Trey gave a wave, and Marc waved back. As an Alpha he didn't seem to mind being watched and resumed his single game. Marc, however, had to step back into the house. He admitted to himself he overstepped because for a second, he could have sworn the way Trey looked at him was like an Apex predator sensing prey. But then Trey’s face was harmless and disinterested as if realizing it was just the dude across the street. Still though, Marc had gotten rocked. He may have known some things, but false Bravado was not it. The reading nook was the safe spot for him.

Around 10 am, Marc heard the thumping of his cousin upstairs, drawers shuffling about. Marc was currently crouched down by the front door randomizing his aunt’s and uncle’s shoes. “Psi, Omega.” He finished placing down the last shoe and blinked. Why had he said that dumb phrase? His eyes scanned the brand names. He had placed them in Alphabetical order. He slapped his forehead. “Fucking hell.” A large thud shook the house, from Oliver’s room. Marc raced upstairs. Throwing Oliver’s door open, Marc found his cousin floundering on the ground, legs kicking as he tried to pull up Khaki pants.

Marc leaned on the doorframe, crossing his arms, “What are you doing? Is this what homeschool kids do for fun?”

“None of my clothes fit!” Oliver stated as it was shocking information. “And the Alphas are playing tackle football.”

“What? How do you know that?” Marc scoffed.

“Grayson texted me.” He pointed at his phone, sitting near his computer.

“You got his number?” Marc strolled over in disbelief, picking up the phone, “Why didn’t you tell me?” He unlocked it, scrolling through a text message chat of memes between not only Grayson but other brothers too. They called it the Alpha Chat. “This is so unfair.” he kept scrolling up, the Alphas were even sharing body photos. Marc flicked the phone onto the desk. He’d get their numbers himself.  

By now Oliver was sitting on the bed, pants at his thighs, trying to put on a shirt. The purple polo had managed to somehow go over his head and neck without tearing but refused to slide down past his chest. Those knockers were not having it, sitting out proudly and bodacious. It was like an even sluttier crop top. “Gah!” Oliver ripped the shirt in half and yanked his pants off, going for a pair of shorts in his closet. The new clothes did make it past his thighs, but his ass was not cooperating. Too much junk in the trunk.” Grrnnh help please!” Oliver begged. Marc wondered if this was the nonsense the Alphas got up to in their house. He did try to help though, grabbing the pants at the waist as Oliver jumped up and down. Marc’s eyes were drawn to the ass bobbing up and down. He sensed the Alpha’s chant in this movement. Intentionally or not, it was trying to lull Marc. But Marc could finally hear the real words under it: SUBMIT, BE DOMINATED.  He wasn’t interested. Perhaps it was a combination of Oliver not meaning to do it and one understanding the Alpha’s power made it less effective? Not ineffective, part of Marc was curious to drop to his knees and dive into the globes. Just hearing the words meant for people like Marc, non-Alpha’s, ‘SUBMIT, BE DOMINATED’ out right was less appealing than being unknowingly conscripted by a Greek alphabet chant. It was one thing for the brothers to use it on you, but to willfully let it happen? Not in Marc’s world.

Oliver’s ass defeated its greatest enemy by slipping inside, then ripping out the back, cheeks barreling out. The end of those shorts, “What’s going on?! I don’t have time for this.” He ran downstairs with Marc behind him. Once downstairs, he tried to put his shoes on, but his feet weren’t having it. They had outsized the shoes by far, the attempt was comical for its pure absurdity. 

Voices came from outside; The Alphas were picking teams of pledges. 

“Forget this!” Oliver stormed outside, ass in the wind, feet on the concrete sidewalk, marching to the Alpha frat. Marc sighed, locking up and heading behind him. As they approached, Marc spotted Grayson, Skylar, Hector, and Trey.  They were divided into two teams respectively, the pathway up to their house serving as the dividing line, while the larger half of their front lawn served as where their team congregated. 

“My man!” Hector said, giving Oliver a high five and chest bump. “Knew you wouldn’t miss this.” He gave Oliver a once over. “Let’s get you some usable clothes though!”  He made a nod to Grayson as the young men took off disappearing into the house, yet again. Marc wanted to follow, but the two frat presidents cut off his path, like knights. 

“I thought I sent you home.” Skylar's chin rested in his hand as he contemplated Marc’s appearance. “How are you back?”

Marc shrugged,” It's a new day. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

“Hmmm.” Trey’s voice pondered, “Typically when an Alpha gives a command it’s not something that can be ignored.”

“Command? I thought it was more of a suggestion.” Marc said.

“Maybe you’re losing your touch.” Trey smirked at Skylar.

“As if,” The blond boy rolled his eyes before landing back on Marc. “Just help em out with this one, yeah.” Skylar and Trey moved in unison toward Marc, bodies up on him, sealing the distance. They raised their arms trying to bury Marc in their pits, and skin. Marc’s face got rubbed all over as the smell of sea salt and the beach hit his nose. This time it was aided by the scent of blacktop, memories of playgrounds, summer heat, playing on abandoned streets, ice cream on the sidewalk, distilled fun. However, now Marc could tell the message by racking his senses.  “Alpha, Beta, Gamma…” he whispered to himself, unable to compete with the president's overwhelming presence but if he could just nudge them.  He whispered the entire alphabet and because they had huddled him only those three heard. Skylar and Trey pulled away.

“Alright little dude you can stay, but don’t get in our way. Stay on the porch.” Trey stated.

“And don’t go in the house.” Skylar added as Marc scooted past them.

Marc held his breath until he was sitting on a porch chair, surrounded by workout equipment the young men had just dropped when they weren’t using it. The presidents had returned to diving up the pledges. He unclenched his butt once he sat down. They had wanted him to go home and leave the frat alone, but when Marc chanted back, he knew ‘NO’ wouldn’t work. He had to convince them he wasn’t important enough to send home and could stay. They hadn’t even noticed it was an act of Mark’s own word: DEFIANCE.

2 hours in, the afternoon sun blazed while Marc sat comfortably shaded by the porch, feet resting hiked up on the banister. The pledges played a tough game. Instead of whatever footballers screamed, these dudes were fixated on that damn Greek Alphabet. A set of three words each time. Oliver, who Marc had never seen pick up a ball in his damn life, was playing like a pro, adding a spin to the soaring football. What the pledges didn't notice is that some of them were getting thicker and more ripped. The ones destined to be Alphas. They bend over and Marc would just see how much ass they were packing. Like some of them were trying to get away with robbing a bakery they had so much cake. Shirts came off and chests meatier than a steak dinner came into view. The unlucky ones were just fortunate not to be squashed into paste. 

“Having a nice day?” Eric came walking out the house. Marc’s heart melted, he hadn’t seen this beautiful face in a bit. He definitely remembered when he saw the tall Asian walking out the frat house with his thunder thighs in skimpy shorts. 

“It’s… okay.” Marc stated like he wasn’t openly lusting over the pledges in a manner similar to watching bread rise in the oven.

“Is that so? Your pants say differently.” Eric grabbed some of the workout equipment on the porch, after easily calling out Marc's throbbing erection. “But it’s all good, Alpha's love attention.” He cooed teasingly.

A thought crossed Marc’s mind; he turned to Eric and whispered the Greek alphabet. Eric got a strange look on his face as he caught Marc repeating their mantra.

The look didn't last long, as the message was received. Eric pulled off his shirt and continued working out in front of Marc. Reaching over, Marc pressed a finger into the dude’s abs then pulled away quickly as if he expected to be burned. But it was just regular hot guy’s skin and muscles. Sadly, Marc didn’t get much time to enjoy it as he noticed one of the changing pledges was getting into a fight with Oliver.

“Alphas am I right?” Eric chuckled. 

Marc hopped up, no one was allowed to bully his cousin. A small huddle formed, Marc pushed past through them squished by hard Alpha bodies, but not in the fun way he dreamed of. When he got to the center, the pledges booed him Skylar and Trey weren’t even watching. Oliver was rolling around on the ground; It should have been insane the pledge and he were the same size. Their limbs were entangled but the pledge managed to get on to and free an arm. Marc could already see what was coming, he ran towards the two just as the pledge drew his arm back. Marc was out cold. He had a quick sharp of pain and one last intrusive thought:

Why didn’t I just do the damn mantra?

When Marc woke up, he thought he was in heaven or on his way there, surrounded by four gorgeous men. He knew them all Aarav, Ravi, Kalpanath, and Pandu. The one give away that it wasn’t the afterlife was the rest of the frat missing. Not to mention there was a ceiling and not a glorious light or whatever people ramble on about. More importantly they should have been mid-orgy in his mind. Half out of it, Marc recited the mantra and off came the boy shirts as they began flexing for him.

“What are you guys doing?” Trey asked, stepping between the group, ice pack, in hand. Skylar strolled in behind him, as both their faces started to scowl.

“Just showing off for our guests!” Kalpanath said probably seconds from pulling down his red sweats. 

“Alphas don’t put on shows for free, we make people beg and plead to see and even then, we still don’t give it to them, unless we want to.” Skylar said, resting an arm on Trey. Marc was starting to realize quickly this was not a dream. The co-presidents were getting quite upset and their brother's callousness was not appreciated. The air in the room was turning hostile against him. 

“What did you do to them?” Skylar asked.

“Huh?” Marc squeaked, backing up on the couch.

“I’m not stupid, both Grayson and I tried to get rid of you.” Skylar walked towards Marc as Trey stepped off to the side. “I even told Oliver how to get you off his ass but here you are. And now Alphas are stripping for you. You’re NOT an Alpha.”  Skylar leaned over and threw his arms out on the sofa, caging Marc in. Skylar pressed his body closer and the beach smell was still there. Marc took a whiff despite being threatened. “So, what makes you so special?”  Skylar finished.  The frat’s co-president’s pink lips hovered inches from Marc’s face. Oh, how Marc wished for any other reason he could be in that position so close to Skylar.

Trey came and stood above Marc, one hand behind his back. “Doesn’t matter, we get hard cases too, just means we gotta go harder.” Marc looked up from the arm of the couch, and Trey’s bulge was very close to his face. A pair of shorts and underwear were all that were keeping Marc from nudging his face forward. Well, that and whatever the Alphas had planned for him. And for as much as he wished for it to be two-way, the universe wasn’t that generous. Trey popped out a hat and forced it backwards on Marc’s head.

“Best for people like you to just be Alpha’s,” Skylar smiled smugly, before pulling away.

Marc’s brain was under assault. The goddamn hat had the same effects as everything else the frat did, but much more intense. But this was worse. While the Alphas were typically searching for others, the hat was a call to action. Marc could hear the Greek alphabet running in his brain and underneath it all: DOMINANCE, POWER, SUPERIORITY. This was not a question of bringing out what was inside of him but rather placing it there. Marc's brain got flooded and it felt like gasoline filling him up and flowing down into his body. A spark of change flickered and Marc ignited. He began to sweat profusely. His chest billowed higher and greater as his spine travelled down the couch. Limbs on fire, his arms and legs shot out as he bucked larger and wider. 

Across his body clothes were tearing and forced apart by rising muscles. Marc’s thighs drummed with strength, rocketed straight from his glutes, and flowed into his calves before erupting into his feet. The material of Marc's shoes was forced apart as his feet emerged, climbing in size. Burning shoulders reforged themselves, denser, back broader, more equipped for generating power. Next, Marc got his true Alpha mark by getting branded with abs that formed grooves in his mid-section. Marc roared with pleasure, not realizing how far his voice had fallen. Facial hair crawled along, defining his jawline as it met the new moustache resting above his lips. His hands slammed down gripping the couch, rough and athletic, equipped for grappling men and the balls they tossed at him. 

Lastly, there was Marc’s cock. It drummed on the inside of his shredded pants like a battering ram, the throbs getting thicker and longer as it morphed into a massive missile. With a weapon like that there was only one thing left for it to do: explode. Marc nutted harder than he ever had in his life before. Like a true Alpha his jizz soaked his pants, the wet spot growing larger. His body collapsed, spent.

The transformation was not over, as Marc’s mind began to fade, his pants grew loose. The material bleached to white as his shoes began restructuring around his feet. His nipples poked through his shirt, like tiny mountains before his torso split it for good, releasing his upper body to the world. This was a much more thorough and aggressive Alpha process than the subtle ones influencing Oliver and the pledges. The Geek alphabet continued to play in his head, “Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta….” A chorus of unspoken deep male voices resonated, “...Lambda, Mu, Nu, Xi…” but by now Marc knew their tune, “...Phi, Chi, Psi, Omega.” Marc drifted off the chanting never ending seeing through it all.

Later, Marc woke up to the chanting in his ears. He opened his eyes, finding himself in a different room. Touching his ears, he was met with hard plastic, his head was sporting headphones. He pulled them down and the world didn’t quiet. If anything, it sounded like a party was going on. Head turning, it looked like the party had been through here while he slept. But he could tell he was still himself.

A smile crossed his lips as he sat up. He did more than just look over his body, his hands travelled all over. He didn’t have to look at the Alpha’s anymore; he was one, physically anyway. That said, looking at other Alphas would still be worth it. But then reality gave him a hard smack in the head. He hadn’t seen Oliver since before he first passed out. Walking over to a window, he saw the sun was long gone. It was well into the night.

 There was a pounding at the door, “Bro get your dumbasses up it's time for the initiation ceremony.” Marc listened as the footstep and pounding travelled down the hall repeating the same line. Doors opened, and Marc heard males grumbling, complaining, shooting the shit as they charged to the stairs. When it quieted down, Marc opened his door and stuck his head out. No one was by the steps as he stepped out of the room. He turned back down the hall and almost screamed. Standing there was a face Marc had seen, but never so young and never shirtless. Well, that wasn’t quite true. Something over the torso. An open blue and white letterman jacket adorned Mr. Galtieri, hairy torso, Fur covered tits on display. Despite aging down, he looked like a super senior or was perhaps just too genetically gifted to visually resemble a lot of the other brother’s, rocking a full beard.

“Mr. Galtieri?”

The Alpha brother snickered, “Mr. Galtieri? Nah, my bros call me Enzo.” He strutted up Marc.  The man’s pants were unzipped, and he didn't have any underwear on either. Marc was sure normally he’d be weak in the knees, but thankfully his new body’s legs were made of tougher stuff. Still though, young Enzo was moving like he was ready to fuck, eyes staring at Marc lusting for…something. “Ready to head downstairs?” A sobering thought entered Marc’s mind Enzo wasn’t a horny guy; he was an Alpha. He wasn’t inviting Marc in; he was willfully teasing. Skylar had said Alphas practically did that purposefully. Enzo was lusting for attention. From anyone would do, but what better attention was than another Alpha’s.

Enzo, stopped in front of Marc, furry tits bouncing still, with a strong scent of charred wood and whiskey wafting off him. Marc hadn’t had alcohol before, but he knew that smell now, he associated it with late nights chugging down three beers. Or at least his body did. Before he could even stop himself, his hands were on Enzo's pecs. A dangerous combination An Alpha body with Marc’s horny mind. These outdoorsy, sporty, athletic, bro-boning boys thought he was one of them. Enzo, shocked only for a second, dragged his tongue over his teeth, smirking. He bounced his pecs as Marc gripped them to assure it was real. Pounds of muscle were certainly manipulated; it was no dream. Enso curled his head back, letting out soft moans. “Feels good to be appreciated by another Alpha.”

For a terrible moment I felt like a wolf in sheep's clothing inside the frat’s house, able to walk among them. But then he realized the frat was the wolf, walking and luring in sheep to convert them into more wolves. Then what, they were stuck performing homoeroticism without the ability to actually engage it? 

LAME. 

ASS.

A frat he could watch, but certainly not be a part of. Begrudgingly though, he took Enzo’s tits. But then his hand shot straight into Enzo’s pants and grabbed a wrangling member. Marc’s hand stroked down fully, as if something leaked onto it. Pulling his hand out, his palm and fingers were covered in Enzo’s precum. Tongue flat, Marc licked it up in full view. Enzo’s breathing increased, watching the display turned on. 

Marc had not meant to do that. It was a slight intrusive thought that his body immediately reacted to. But such was the life of an Alpha. Perhaps more recognizable for Alphas making out randomly with girls at parties, slipping a finger up their skirts to tease. To make a sexual partner theirs was to be an Alpha. Marc was just unconsciously making it work for homo ends, not that Enzo seemed to mind.  But reality came back to him: His cousin was probably in this house with the Alphas.

“We should get downstairs.” Marc galloped down Enzo at his back. The living room was alight with half-naked men roaming around, drinking and competing. A banner had been placed over the kitchen’s door frame haphazardly: WELCOME ALPHAS. Skylar and Trey stood in the middle of the large room clapping their hands.

“Alphas huddle up!” They said in unison as the young men’s activities died down and they congregated in a half circle. Marc stayed on the steps watching as Enzo walked past, grazing his cock’s outline on Marc’s thigh, before joining the pack. 

“As you may know our time with the pledges has come to an end. We've found Alphas,” Trey smirked. “Or made them."  Enzo raised a fist, as deep laughs filled the room. Marc watched Nauesous. “Which means we’ll be adding new brothers to our ranks.” Trey said.

“Woop woop!”

“Alphas!”

Cheers and fists rose in the air, and it was time Skylar said his peace. “Meet your brothers!” A door leading down to the basement flung open. Guys in hooded cloaks stepped into the living room perfectly in line. A great dwindling of the pledges Alpha Tau Zeta had before. Now only 5 people remained. Marc gripped the handrail already assured Oliver was one of them. He didn't have to wait to confirm as the first hood pulled down by Skylar was Oliver’s grinning face.

“I can’t wait to unleash my greatness as an Alpha. Such a shame for it to have been contained in a weak body. Thank you, my brothers, for awakening me.” Oliver’s words were spoken in a playful yet commanding tone, Marc didn't know what to make of it. Trey and Skylar alternated pulling down hoods, revealing the guys underneath and allowing them to say nonsense about joining the frat. One thing was clear: this ceremony was THE main event. Marc figured the entirety of the pledges’ recruitment was always leading up to this. Alphas could change people like Marc or even another destined Alpha like Enzo, but the pledges seemed to be special. Marc could see it across the Alphas’ eyes: hunger.

“Let us begin our brother's acceptance.” Trey said then turned to the pledges. “What are the words in the Greek Alphabet?”

“Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta, Epsilon, Zeta, Eta, Theta, Iota, Kappa, Lambda, Mu, Nu, Xi, Omicron, Pi, Rho, Sigma, Tau, Upsilon, Phi, Chi, Psi, Omega.” The pledges plus Oliver gave a regular recital.

Skylar held his ear, “I don’t think the other Alphas understand you.”

The pledges repeated the words louder and Marc heard all the promises laced underneath. The usual suspects: Domination, Power, Superiority, but now joined by perfection and unity. A request for the pledges to be made whole. The Alphas response was to begin chanting back, amplifying the pledges' voices. A choir preaching the word of Alphas. Marc watched every single Alphas’ eyes begin to dilate and disassociate; They were all hypnotizing each other. 

The pledges soaked it in as their bodies grew in response. Some were getting bigger pecs with leaner bodies, others wider shoulders with thick builds, Oliver, however, was getting taller and denser. Even this final transformation was not a flash in the pan, but another purposeful slow cooked change. Marc thought it was the perfect opportunity to sneak in and pull Oliver out of there. As he went to move off the staircase, the pledges dropped to their knees, as their clothes started to stretch. What made Marc pause though was watching each Alpha brother begin to undress, throwing their shirts off and kicking their pants to the side. The chant of the Greek Alphabet was going strong as the Alphas grabbed their cocks and began to stroke all while staring at the pledges. 

Marc couldn’t fucking believe it; out of all the times he could see the Alphas naked it was for a bukkake he had to stop. He cursed himself under his breath, Why did he get granted awareness? It should have been him getting blasted with loads. The pledges were so fucking lucky. He rolled his eyes, moving off the steps, but burning every ass and dick into his brain. He wasn’t quite safe from the unified voices chanting in the room, once he stepped into the middle of it. His brain was hazing over, and his mouth was joining the brothers. However, Marc’s voice didn’t carry the same convictions and fervor as the others. His voice had its own tune, a trumpet blaring off in a sea of string instruments. It helped keep his own mind in check, sowing discord and his own words into their sacred ritual. Marc walked by unnoticed, his own chant heard by all, but ignored by the frat’s union. 

Pushing out into the front, Marc spilled over, having squeezed between model-Esque bodies, and collided with the floor. The naked guys were like jerking statues, refusing to be moved. Marc's own chant helped him resist but didn’t make him any less horny. His desires were undoubtedly being transmitted to the entire frat unrestrained. But those hot sexy fucks didn’t care they were deep into their weird bullshit. Marc stood up, stumbling towards Oliver, shaking his body, but Oliver was deep in his own chant.

Squatting closer, Marc leaned into Oliver’s ear whispering the Greek alphabet, but with a message, instructing Oliver to wake up. Oliver’s face faltered, but only for a moment, before losing himself again. The other brothers had him in deep, the allure of being an Alpha was too strong. Frustrated, Marc decided it was time to put his new muscles to work, he took a deep breath and lifted. Oliver was heavy as shit and growing, but shockingly to Marc’s surprise his muscles were for more than show. He took a hard step forward, but he did it; he moved.  Clothes were shredding off the pledges, and the frat brothers walked closer, priming themselves for the grand finale. None of them had registered Marc, even as he waded through them again. This time shoulder checking them; If he had the strength, why not use it? He continued to chant to Oliver’s as he went through.

Then finally Oliver stopped chanting. He didn't snap awake or talk, still blissed out, but some part of Marc’s message reached him. That, however, was perhaps Marc’s biggest mistake. The Alphas were both the conductor and musicians in their own little orchestra. Marc’s tune made them incapable of sussing him out, but taking away a voice they knew should have empowered their numbers was noticed quickly. The frat brothers turned in sync as Marc opened the door, hand pausing on their throbbing cocks. Despite their situational awareness, the thousand-yard stare denoting their entranced state remained. 

“Oh shit,” Marc huddled out the door. His powerful legs carried him halfway down the walkway before the Alphas descended on him; wolves chasing meat. They descended on him, pulling Oliver out of his hands. Marc may have been blessed with a new body but that could only provide so much against an army. The swarm of Alphas chanted louder, not knowing their words were falling on deaf ears for Marc. Marc cursed his luck that this was how hot naked guys would descend on him. 

“...Zeta, Eta, Theta, Iota…” Marc continued to fake chant along with the brothers, while trying to get them to release him. That didn’t happen; however, the tugs and grapples became gentler, hand swipes, a graze across his abs here and there. Marc’s lust had wormed its way into his words, and made the Alphas capture him in a more sexually charged way. He was led to the center of a new naked huddle formed outside as the Alphas patted his ass and grabbed at his cock. He was the only person fully dressed, as by now the pledges and Oliver had broken free of their clothes. Even no longer chanting love was changing as his face restructured, trimming away soft edges of hardlines.

Marc was brought to his knees, standing between a naked Skylar and Trey. And holy hell the Co-presidents had twin schlongs they’d been hiding in their pants. The damn things were bobbing in the night wind, inches from Marc’s face, yearning with a need to soon release. A release that Marc had denied him.

“Brother’s, one last Alpha has yet to join us, in welcoming the pledges,” Trey spoke, having stopped his chanting, but left his hypnotic state. His voice was off cadence, lacking a certain edge behind it. Marc kept chanting, yelling against the frat. 

“I think we gotta go nuclear!” Skylar added, also not quite there.

Dumb goofy grins game over the frat brother’s face and many of them cheered this development. “Alpha him up for good!”, “Brother for life!” They cheered before the chanted started up again. Skylar stepped in front of Marc, sticking a leg forward to fist bump Trey for their amazing solution. Completely naked, Skylar’s hard cock grazed Marc’s face. The scent of the beach and sea was back. Marc nudged his head forward to huff the balls sitting in his face like plums. Neither of the hypnotized presidents cared about Marc's actions, committed to their ritual as Skylar stepped back into place chanting again.

“Well, fuck this,” Marc could tell his time was up, but he was going to go out his way. He took Trey down by the knees and the hypo-prez toppled easily. Marc was going to have at least one of his dreams come true as he swallowed Trey’s cock to the hilt. There was no last stand or secret move. If Marc was going to go out it’d be after tasting an Alpha’s cock. But if Alpha's could send their chants non-verbally, through their body language, their movements, then perhaps Marc could too. Marc focused hard on the one thing he could truly want it this moment and put it all into his eyes. Those, yearning, begging, lustful eyes communicated only one thing to the hypnotized Trey: CUM. Trey roared, unable to chant as he hosed down Marc’s mouth. Alpha seed poured into an Alpha throat. Loads continuously pumping out Trey manage to grip Marc's hat and turn it forward. This had to be the nuclear option as Marc's mind was flooded with the damn mantra and Greek alphabet worse than before.  The last thing he saw were Alphas descending on the pledges and Oliver as their own cocks had been stroked and the climaxed were coming. 

The world went white and reeked of potent Alpha seed.

Marc woke back up; in the room he had been earlier. His hands grazed his body, he had remained hot, remained an Alpha. That much he expected, but it didn’t appear the forward had been the obliterating change the Alpha’s thought it was. He was himself internally at least. Oliver probably hadn’t fared as well. And as far gone as the other brothers were there was probably no way to change him back. At least he got the ultimate ‘fuck you’ off to the brothers for constantly teasing and tempting people. “Mmmmm,” he thought back to Trey’s load entering his throat and coating his tongue; Alphas had quite the exquisite taste.  A cool breeze rolled between his thighs as he sat up and looked down.

His pants were gone, leaving him in his underwear. An annoying sensation was tapping at his brain that ‘this was a more freeing way to exist’. Walking about the frat and showing off the goods. He had tried to solidify him as a himbo slut in the frat, but Marc couldn’t be swayed so easily. Marc wished it hadn’t worked cause now he had to live with knowing he failed to save Oliver. Though maybe there was a silver lining if Oliver didn't have to be stuck with his parents anymore. The frat house would be more fun than home that was for certain. Throwing caution to the wind, Marc slid his shorts off, what did it matter anymore and stepped outside the room.

When he entered the hallway, he expected to see angry glares or hear the other brothers whispering about him. Instead, what he came upon was Enzo and Hector making out in front of another door. He stood staring, even coughed a bit, but neither Alpha cared he was there.  Further down the hall, another Alpha was nursing Grayson's nipple, while Grayson held his head. Marc watched it all as if one of his fantasies of the frat had come true. The brothers weren’t fucking with him or playing it up they were all genuinely going at it with each other. There was even moaning echoing from downstairs as he heard video games going.  Marc recalled his endless chanting while they were all in a hypnotic state. He may have had some thoughts when he saw a bare butt, brushed up on skin, and saw the circle jerking. And perhaps his dissuasion had a strong underlying ‘do gay shit instead’ message. 

“Good to see you’re up.” Enzo started breaking away from his kiss. “I think you should go check on your boyfriend; I think last night’s pledge initiation was insane!”

“Boyfriend?” Marc asked.

“Uh duh!” Hector answered, “Oliver, who else?”

Marc took off, his body carrying up another level of stairs in the house, moving as if he’d been here for years. Another floor, and all Marc could hear were manly grunts and moans behind various doors. Definitely not the Alpha house he was in before. His legs walked him to a room in the far back, the only one without noises leaking out.  He knocked, opening it up to discover an empty bedroom, no one was inside. He stopped in and as the sexual groans faded, he heard a running shower stop behind another door. Marc walked up to the doorknob and paused. Just what had he communicated to Oliver with the chant? Perhaps he had a lingering thought that Oliver's Alpha body was hot, but that couldn’t have influenced what the frat had planned, right? He turned the knob. The door wasn’t locked. Stepping inside, he spotted Oliver facing the bathroom mirror and wrapping a towel on his waist. Alpha Oliver spotted Marc through the mirror's reflection.

The ass alone and the way it sat in the towel was enough to make Marc go feral. Distracted, Marc was late picking up on Oliver spotting him. When their eyes did meet, it didn't last long as Marc found the body Oliver was sporting. Oliver was a stud, oversized pecs, built shoulders, and trained arms. Then there was that face. Marc had no idea who that MAN was looking back at him but it damn sure wasn’t his Oliver. And at that point Marc noticed how Alpha Oliver had situated his thumbs under the towel, teasing more, because he knew Marc would come in here. According to the frat brothers they were boyfriends after all. Oliver knew exactly what he was doing to Marc.

Oliver turned around, leaning back on the sink, temptingly keeping his ass from Marc. “Thought I heard you coming.” he smirked, “Heard I was taking a shower and had to get to me.”

Unable to will his cock down tenting his briefs, Marc managed to say something coherent. “Look this might not make sense...ahh.” Oliver’s pec popped and precum dripped into Marc's underwear, “We should get out of here before Skylar and Trey realize what I’ve done.”

“What you’ve done?” Oliver asked, then pondered before answering, “Oh yeah, last night. You sucking off Trey was some wild stuff, but Skylar felt so left out, but they've been 69ing each other all morning.”

“What?” Marc paused. The presidents were blowing each other while he was there. He had only dreamed of Trey and Skylar going at it. Not even the presidents were immune to Marc’s horny chanting. The whole frat probably got a good earful of it ending up with their newest Alphas but a healthy dose of Marc’s desires as well. Then the realization struck Marc. He’d done it. He’d won. Not the saving anyone part but, making the frat reach their greatest potential by turning their homoeroticism into full on attraction.

Oliver stepped away from the sink approaching Marc, “Alphas, don’t wear clothes, when they don’t want to.” he pointed to Marc’s underwear then gripped at this towel.

Marc was sure he’d somehow learn to love being a brother here. “Alpha, Beta, Gamma…” he said, matching each word with Oliver's footsteps. Knowing the alphabet to navigate a house wasn’t so bad after all.

[forthegaze123]

"Ahhhhn... oh my gosh this body is too sexy... mmmph, this cock is leaking so much already, oohhh... I can't stop milking it..."

Few minutes ago Clara's mind just slammed hard into the Nathan's towering muscular frame. Thanks to her own botched stupid wish, her soul now stuck for god knows how long inside his insanely perfect fit physique.

Her new fingers slid slow and deliberate down every sweat-glistened inch of those massive heaving pecs and carved eight-pack abs that now pulsed under her control. The warm ridges of her rock-hard stomach, pressing deep into the firm grooves as raw electric fire shot straight to the thick heavy cock swelling thick between her legs. A high-pitched girly moan tore from his full lips, soft and needy, quite unmatched with the rest of masculine exterior. Her hips rolling forward on instinct while the pleasure built thick and hot inside.

Outside the door, Nathan's bros froze mid-step, smirking wide as those unmistakable feminine moans drifted through the wood, figuring the heartthrob jock had scored another random chick again for a hard, raw, mid-day fuck like always. They laughed low, one muttering about how loud the bitch was getting.

Little did they know it was all Clara lost in the stolen hunky body of her crush, fondling every inch of that perfect sexy body and milking the pleasure for all it was worth without any plan to stop.

[growtherton]

Golden Lamp Fitness offers one on one attention for its clients, with personalized routines to help maximize your journey to your fitness goals. Mind you, some trainers don’t let up even after you reach those goals.

[forthegaze123]

Why Am I Doing This on Camera?

It's your typical after-work night. What's the easiest dopamine? Yup, you scrolled through your endless Instagram feed, the bright screen lighting up your face in the quiet darkness of your room as your thumb flicked upward without much thought. Post after post of fitness models and travel snaps passed by until a vibrant red 'LIVE' icon grabbed your full attention.

It was him, Tyler, the smoking hot influencer you had been crushing on for months, going live from what must be his brand new apartment. Tapping the notification, the stream loaded instantly, revealing Tyler standing in the middle of a spacious bedroom, shirtless and looking every bit the hunk from his photos. His wavy brown hair was perfectly messy, stubble shadowing his chiseled jaw, and his body was a masterpiece of muscle – broad shoulders, massive rounded pecs that heaved with each breath, deep cuts in his eight-pack abs shining under the ceiling light.

"Hey yo, what's good everybody? Thanks for tuning in to the live! Just moved into this sick new place and I wanted to give you all the grand tour right now," Tyler said with a charming grin, panning the camera slowly to show the big window and the neatly made bed behind him. You felt a rush of heat flood your body, your own cock twitching to life in your pants as you stared at his perfect form, the power inside you stirring as your horniness peaked.

Focusing your will, you channeled the magical ability that allowed you to reach into anyone's mind and bend it to your desires.

'Tyler, you're starting to feel an itch in your chest, a warmth spreading through your body,' you thought intensely, directing the command straight into his head through the live stream connection.

On the screen, Tyler continued talking for a moment, gesturing around the room, but then his hand rose unconsciously to rub at his left pec, fingers brushing over the sensitive nipple.

"Man, it's feeling a bit stuffy in here already, or maybe it's just all the excitement of the new place," he laughed lightly to his viewers.

The chat exploding with comments like 'looking jacked as always Tyler!' and 'show us the bathroom next!'. But you could see the slight confusion in his eyes as he lingered on the touch a second longer than normal, his breath hitching just a bit as the suggestion took root deeper in his mind, his nipples visibly hardening into tight little peaks under the bright lights.

You pushed the power further, slow and deliberate, letting the real-time pace of the live unfold naturally as your cock throbbed harder in your shorts.

'Tyler, that warmth is sliding down now, making your abs tingle and your cock start to fill out heavy in your shorts,' you commanded silently, watching his every micro-expression. Tyler's hand drifted lower without him seeming to notice at first, palm gliding over the ridges of his carved abs as he tried to keep the tour going.

"Alright, check out this killer window view – natural light all day, perfect for workouts, you know?" he said, voice steady but with a faint edge now, his free hand absentmindedly adjusting the waistband of his low-slung shorts where a growing bulge was starting to strain the fabric obscenely.

Again, the chat lit up with fire emojis and 'damn those abs tho', but Tyler's brow furrowed slightly, his head tilting back just like in those flexing poses he always did, a soft "Mmm..." escaping his lips before he caught it and cleared his throat.

The mind control sank in deeper as you leaned closer to your phone, your own breathing quickening while Tyler's body responded helplessly on camera.

'Keep going, Tyler, that cock of yours is getting so fucking hard it needs attention, stroke it through the shorts for me,' you willed, exaggerating the sensual pull until his hand obeyed. Tyler paused mid-step toward the window, fingers pressing firmly over the thick outline of his swelling dick, rubbing up and down the length in slow, confused circles.

"Uhhh... guys, something feels... sooo weird all of a sudden," he muttered, voice dropping lower, but he didn't stop, the wet friction audible even through the mic as his palm schlicked over the fabric. His massive pecs heaved faster, sweat beginning to bead on the deep cleavage between them, and the chat went wild with shocked laughing emojis mixed with 'keep rubbing bro what the fuck'.

You held the command steady, drawing out the slow-burn torment as Tyler's resistance crumbled under the magical grip on his mind.

'Pull those shorts down now, Tyler, free that fat throbbing cock and wrap your fist around it for all your fans to see,' you thought with wicked focus, your own dick leaking pre into your underwear.

Tyler's eyes widened on screen, mouth opening in a perfect O of surprise as his hands hooked into the waistband and yanked the shorts down to his thighs in one smooth motion. His massive nine-inch cock sprang free, thick and veiny, the fat purple head already glistening with a fat string of precum that drooled down the shaft.

"Fuuuuck... what am I... ohhhh shitttt, my dick's out on live," he groaned, but his hand was already gripping the base, squeezing the heavy girth as a deep "Nnnngh..." rumbled from his throat, head tilting back again with eyes fluttering half-closed.

The live stream captured every vulgar detail in real time as you fed him more commands, making the jerking build gradually hotter and more desperate.

'Stroke it slow at first, Tyler, pump that meat nice and easy, feel those heavy balls slap against your hand,' you directed, savoring the way his body obeyed instantly. Tyler's fist glided up and down the slick shaft with wet schlick-schlick-schlick sounds echoing through the mic, his hips bucking forward involuntarily while his free hand roamed up to pinch a swollen nipple.

"Ahhh... bros, I can't... uhhhnngh... stop touching myself," he panted, voice cracking into a needy moan as precum oozed in thick rivulets over his knuckles, dripping onto the floorboards below. His abs clenched visibly with every stroke, the defined V-lines framing that pulsing cock like a obscene frame, and the incoming comments flooded faster – 'Tyler wtf is this hot af' and 'stroke faster daddy'.

You ramped up the intensity bit by bit, keeping the pace real-time and torturously slow as Tyler's mind fought and failed against your unbreakable control.

'Faster now, Tyler, jerk that fat cock like the horny slut you are, slap those balls harder and moan louder for the camera,' you commanded, your own hand slipping into your pants to match his rhythm. Tyler's strokes quickened, fist flying up and down the veiny length with lewd wet slaps, his heavy balls swinging and smacking audibly against his wrist.

"Mmmph... fuuuck yes... ahhh it feels so good, why can't I stop..." he groaned loudly, head thrown back exactly like those video frames, mouth wide open in raw ecstasy as sweat poured down his chiseled torso, making his pecs and abs gleam like oiled marble. The chat was a blur of shocked caps and horny gifs, viewers begging for more while Tyler's legs trembled.

The buildup crested higher as you held him right on the edge, forcing every exaggerated sensation to flood his controlled mind in vivid waves.

'Edge it, Tyler, don't cum yet, keep pumping that throbbing meat and feel your balls churning full of thick load,' you willed, watching his face contort in desperate pleasure. Tyler's hand slowed teasingly then sped up again, thumb swirling over the leaking slit as ropes of precum flew everywhere.

"Uhhh... I'm so close... fuck bros my cock's gonna explode... haaaah... don't know what's happening but it feels too good," he whimpered between moans, eyes squeezing shut as his body arched, massive pecs thrusting forward and nipples rock-hard. The onomatopoeia of his frantic stroking filled the audio – schlick-schlick-schlick – mixed with his deep guttural groans, the live counter ticking up with hundreds more joining the chaos.

You finally released the dam, commanding the explosive finish with full vulgar force as the real-time climax hit.

'Cum now, Tyler, shoot the biggest load of your life all over yourself on live, let it splatter everywhere you sexy stud,' you thought triumphantly. Tyler's body seized up instantly, fist blurring on his cock as his balls drew tight and erupted.

"FUUUUCK... nngghaaah... I'm cumming... ahhhnnngh... spluuuurt... spluuuurt... OHHHH YESSSSSS! My god it's everywhere!" he bellowed, thick white ropes of hot cum blasting out in powerful arcs, painting his heaving pecs, dripping down his abs in messy streaks, and puddling on the floor at his feet with wet splats. His mouth hung open in a perfect silent moan, head tilted back just like the video captured, body shaking through spurt after endless spurt until his cock finally stopped pulsing, leaving him glazed and panting.

Tyler blinked hard on camera, cum still dripping from his chin and chest as the post-orgasm haze clashed with your lingering mind control, confusion washing over his flushed face.

"What the... why the fuck did I just jerk off on live? Guys, I swear I don't know what came over me... that wasn't me," he stammered, voice hoarse and shaky, trying to pull his shorts up with trembling hands while the chat exploded in a frenzy of 'that was insane' and 'do it again' messages.

"Shit, shit, shit! Holy shit! What have I done?" he panicked, his eyes darted around the room, cheeks burning red under the stubble as he wiped a streak of his own load off his abs absentmindedly, the live still rolling with thousands watching every second of his bewildered afterglow.

You weren't done yet, the power humming stronger in your veins as horniness surged through you at the sight of his cum-covered muscles.

'Tyler, scoop up some of that hot cum and taste it for your fans,' you commanded smoothly, forcing the next wave without mercy.

Tyler's hand moved on autopilot, fingers scooping a thick glob of his own jizz from his pec and bringing it to his lips, tongue darting out to lick it clean.

"Mmmph... tastes so freaking salty and tasty and... WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK why am I doing this on camera?"

[forthegaze123]

Best Roommate Ever

I woke up to the sound of the dorm shower shutting off and the heavy, wet footsteps of my roommate crossing the room.

Reece.

Even the name still sent a dark little thrill through me every single morning.

He stepped into the main room still dripping, curly brown hair plastered in messy, damp ringlets across his forehead, that signature half-smirk already tugging at his full lips like he knew exactly how ridiculous he looked and didn’t give a single fuck. Water and sweat mixed on his skin, turning it into a glossy, golden map of muscle. Those heavy pecs rose and fell with each breath, the deep cleft between them shiny and inviting, dark nipples still tight from the cold water. His abs flexed and rippled as he towel-dried his hair, every ridge and cut standing out in sharp relief. The towel hung dangerously low on his hips, the thick root of his cock just barely hidden, the heavy bulge shifting with every step.

“Morning, nerd,” he rumbled in that deep, post-sleep baritone, voice still rough from sleep and the way he’d probably been moaning my name into his pillow an hour earlier. He caught me staring and flexed one arm lazily, watching the bicep peak and the veins stand out along his forearm. A bead of water traced down the curve of his pec, caught on the nipple, and dropped onto the floor. “You gonna keep eye-fucking me or you actually getting up today?”

I grinned, cock already thickening under the sheets. “What? I'm just appreciating the view. You look like you got run over by the protein truck again.”

Reece laughed, low and easy, and turned to grab his gym bag. The motion made those massive lats flare and that perfect bubble ass flex under the towel. He had no idea. No clue that a week ago he’d been my balding, beer-gutted, ranting homophobic father. No memory of the slurs, the lectures, the way he used to sneer at anything that wasn’t “normal.” All of that had been scrubbed clean by Chronivac.

Now he was Reece—my 22-year-old, 6'2", 225-pound bi jock roommate who thought we’d been sharing this dorm since freshman year. And he was mine in every way that mattered.

I waited until he left for his morning lift before I pulled out my phone and opened the app again. The interface glowed softly.

Target locked: Reece.

Status: Oblivious.

Reality stable.

I scrolled through the categories I’d already tweaked and felt my cock twitch at the memory of how it had all started.

--------------------------------------------------------

What happened exactly? It had been last Friday night.

My dad—Robert—had shown up at the dorm unannounced, same sour expression, same gut straining against his polo, same receding hair and judgmental eyes. He’d taken one look at the rainbow flag sticker on my laptop and launched into the usual bullshit about “real men” and “phases” and how I needed to “fix my shit before it’s too late.”

I’d smiled, nodded, offered him the pull-out couch, and waited until he passed out drunk on cheap beer and self-righteousness.

Then I opened Chronivac.

I’d set the parameters with shaking hands and a throbbing dick.

Name: Reece Thompson.

Age: 22.

Height: 6'2".

Weight: 225 lbs.

Body Type: Competition-ready jock, low body fat, maximal muscle density, tanned skin, thick curly brown hair, handsome face with natural smirk.

I’d spent a long time on the body sliders.

Shoulders: +40%.

Chest: +65% — heavy, rounded, deep cleavage, sensitive nipples.

Arms: 19-inch biceps, thick vascular forearms.

Abs: deep-cut 8-pack with sharp obliques.

Legs: tree-trunk quads, diamond calves, and an ass that would make grown men cry.

I previewed it and nearly came in my sweats at the render.

Cock & Balls: 8.5 inches soft, 10.5 hard, thick as a wrist, heavy low-hanging balls, constant precum production, high sensitivity, refractory period near zero.

Ass: Plump muscular bubble, tight when flexed but soft and greedy when relaxed, prostate hypersensitive.

Libido: Maximum. Always horny. Leaks easily. Gets hard from flexing, from being watched, from my voice.

Personality: Cocky, outgoing, gym-obsessed jock bro. Openly bisexual. Flirty with everyone. Secretly submissive and eager to please only around me—his “nerd roommate.” High confidence, zero homophobia, zero shame.

Awareness: Off. Full reality rewrite enabled.

Apply – Gradual Over 90 Minutes.

I hit that button. Then I sat in the dark and watched my father become my perfect roommate.

It started in his face. The snoring stopped for a second as the skin smoothed. Deep lines around his eyes and mouth faded like they’d never existed. His receding hairline surged forward, strands thickening, darkening, curling into those messy brown waves that now framed Reece’s face so perfectly. His jaw cracked softly and squared out, stubble reshaping into the light, sexy scruff that suited him. His lips parted on a sleepy sigh and settled into that permanent half-smirk. Even unconscious, he looked cocky and fuckable.

His neck thickened next, cords standing out, Adam’s apple more pronounced. When he mumbled something in his sleep it already sounded deeper, smoother, younger.

The chest was the part that made me pull my cock out and start stroking slow and tight.

Under the old polo, his soft tits began to swell. The fabric stretched with a quiet creak. I watched the shape change—fat melting, muscle packing on in heavy, rounded slabs. His nipples pushed outward, darkening, growing sensitive enough that even in sleep one hand drifted up and rubbed across the new chest. The polo rode higher and higher as the pecs inflated, the deep valley between them forming right before my eyes. Throb… pulse… stretch… I could almost hear the tissues remolding. By the time the changes slowed, two heavy, meaty pecs strained the fabric, the outline of those fat nipples obvious. A bead of sweat already glistened in the new cleavage.

His gut followed, shrinking fast. The beer belly caved in with wet, sucking sounds I felt more than heard. Skin tightened. Muscle carved itself into existence—first the top row of abs, then the lower ones, deep cuts appearing between each block until an 8-pack sat where the paunch had been. His waist pulled in, creating that sharp V that arrowed straight down to his crotch. The polo was now comically tight, seams popping one by one with tiny pop-pop sounds as his lats and chest kept growing.

Shoulders broadened with dull cracks, delts capping, traps rising. His arms inflated like someone was pumping air into them. Biceps rounded and split, veins rising to the surface in thick ropes. The sleeves of the polo shredded at the seams with satisfying rrriip sounds. He shifted in his sleep, one new massive arm flopping over the edge of the couch, and I had to bite my knuckle to keep from moaning out loud.

Lower body next. His legs lengthened slightly as height adjusted, then packed with muscle. Quads swelled against his pants until the fabric stretched shiny and thin. Calves hardened into diamonds. And that ass—fuck, that ass. It rose and rounded, cheeks firming and lifting into two perfect, muscular globes that pushed the seat of his pants to the absolute limit. Stretch… swell… clench… I watched the fabric ride up between the cheeks as they grew. He was going to have the kind of ass that looked obscene in anything he wore.

The crotch was last and the best. Even asleep, his body knew what was happening. His cock began to lengthen down one thigh, thickening visibly, the bulge growing and shifting. Throb… pulse… thicken… The head pushed against the fabric, forming a clear outline. His balls swelled into heavy, churning orbs that made the fabric tent. Almost immediately the high libido kicked in—dark wet spot blooming at the tip of the bulge as precum started soaking through. His hips twitched. A low, unconscious groan left his new deeper voice. I stroked myself faster, matching the rhythm of his growing cock.

Over the next hour the changes refined. Skin tone warmed and tanned. A light dusting of hair appeared across the new pecs and abs, just enough to catch sweat and make everything glisten. The old clothes morphed—polo and pants becoming a tight black tank and gray gym shorts that barely contained the new body. When he finally stirred and sat up, stretching those massive arms overhead, pecs bouncing and flexing, he looked exactly like the man now living in my dorm.

“Shit, I crashed hard,” he said in that new voice, rubbing his face. The smirk appeared naturally. “Did you just let me sleep on the couch like a fucking animal, bro?”

I played it cool even though my cock was still leaking in my hand under the blanket. “You looked comfortable. Rough night?”

He stood, and the new body moved like it had always belonged to him. Shoulders rolling, pecs shifting, that heavy cock swinging in the loose shorts. “Nah. Just lifted late. You know how it is.” He scratched his abs absently, fingers tracing the new cuts. “Gonna shower. You need anything before I head out?”

I shook my head, watching the way his ass flexed as he walked away. The reality rewrite had already settled. In his mind we’d been roommates since freshman. My dad had “taken a job out of state.” No one questioned it. No one remembered the old version except me.

And I made sure to enjoy every second of the new one.

Over the next few days I made small, delicious adjustments while he was awake and oblivious.

Tuesday afternoon he was in the middle of push-ups on the dorm floor, tank top soaked through, curly hair falling into his eyes. I sat at my desk pretending to study and opened Chronivac.

Chest size +8%.

Nipple sensitivity +20%.

Apply gradual.

I watched as Reece's pecs swell right there on the floor. Each rep made them bounce heavier, fuller. The tank stretched tighter. His nipples, already sensitive from the first round of changes, darkened and pebbled visibly against the fabric. He grunted through the set, sweat dripping from his chin onto the deep cleavage.

“Fuck, pump’s insane today,” he panted, completely unaware that every rep was making his chest grow. By the time he finished, those pecs were noticeably heavier, the tank looking painted on. He stood up, rolled his shoulders, and caught me staring. “What? You like the pump too, nerd?”

I swallowed. “Yeah. Looks good on you.”

He grinned that cocky grin and flexed both arms, then bounced his pecs deliberately. “These bad boys? Been growing like crazy lately. Must be the new protein shake.” He stepped closer, still breathing hard, musk rolling off him in waves. “You can feel these milkers if you want. Spotter’s privilege or whatever.”

Fuck yeah, I want it.

I reached out and ran both hands over the hot, sweat-slick juicy muscle. They were so full now, so heavy, bulging under my fingers. When I brushed his nipples he let out a soft, surprised nnnghhh and his cock twitched visibly in his shorts. A tiny wet spot appeared at the tip. He didn’t even seem to notice.

“Sensitive today,” he muttered, but he didn’t pull away. If anything he leaned into my touch, eyes half-lidded. That submissive streak I’d programmed was already showing. “Feels… good when you do it, though.”

I squeezed gently and watched his eyes flutter. “Yeah? Maybe I should spot you more often.”

He laughed, low and breathy. “You know what, maybe you should.”

By Thursday I’d added more. Bigger balls. Higher cum volume. Ass sensitivity cranked. And a little extra spice, whenever he was around me and horny, he’d start leaking steadily without realizing it. Reality made sure no one else noticed the wet spots or the constant bulge. Only I got to see how desperate he really was.

That night he came back from the gym looking like a hot mess—curly hair damp, skin glistening, chest pumped and shiny, that smirk in full effect. He dropped his bag, peeled the soaked tank off with a wet schlick, and tossed it aside. Those heavy pecs bounced free, nipples tight and dark. Sweat ran in rivulets down the deep cleft and over the carved abs. He caught me looking and didn’t even pretend to be shy.

“Shower’s all yours if you want it,” he said, but he didn’t move toward the bathroom. Instead he stepped closer, still in those low gym shorts that clung to his thick thighs and the massive, half-hard bulge. The wet spot at the tip was obvious now, fabric dark and clinging to the fat head of his cock. “Or… you could help me cool down first.”

I stood up. My own cock was already rock hard. “How do you want me to help, Reece?”

"Hmmmm, I don't know," He licked his lips, eyes flicking down to my bulge and back up. The cocky jock mask slipped just enough to show the hunger underneath. “Been thinking about your hands on me all day. That spot you gave me the other night? Fuckkkk. Couldn’t stop replaying it.” He reached down and adjusted himself, the thick length shifting heavily. A fresh bead of precum soaked through. “You make me so fucking hard lately, bro. Is that weird?”

I stepped in until our bodies almost touched. The heat rolling off him was incredible. “Not weird at all. I like it. You like it.”

His breath hitched when I ran my palms up his sweat-slick chest, thumbs circling those sensitive nipples. He groaned—deep, needy—and his cock jumped, another pulse of precum darkening the shorts even more. “Nngh—fuck, you're right, nerd. I like your hands…”

I leaned in and licked a stripe up the center of his chest, tasting salt and musk and pure jock. He shuddered, one big hand coming up to grip the back of my neck, not pushing me away but holding me there. I sucked one nipple into my mouth and he actually whimpered, hips bucking forward so that massive bulge pressed against my stomach.

“Bed,” I murmured against his skin. “Now.”

He went willingly, that big body dropping onto the mattress like he’d been waiting for the command. I stripped him the rest of the way and just stared for a second. The cock that sprang free was obscene—thick, veiny, ten and a half inches of throbbing meat, heavy balls drawn up tight, the head already shiny and leaking a steady stream. His ass flexed as he spread his legs for me, hole already twitching.

I took my time. Sucked that fat cock until my jaw ached and his moans filled the room. Schlick… slurp… gluck… He leaked constantly, sweet and salty on my tongue, hips rolling in little desperate circles. When I finally pulled off he was panting, curly hair sticking to his forehead, pecs heaving.

“Fuuuccckkk meeee,” he begged, voice rough. “Pleeeeaseee, roomie. Need it.”

I prepped him slow and thorough, two fingers, then three, watching his greedy hole swallow them. Every brush over his prostate made his cock jump and spurt more precum onto his abs. By the time I pushed inside him he was babbling—cocky jock talk mixed with desperate begging.

“Holyyyy shittt—yeah, stretch me out—FUCK, your dick feels so good in my ass—been wanting this all week—nngh, deeper, bro, please—”

I fucked him hard and deep, watching those heavy pecs bounce with every thrust, abs flexing, curly hair bouncing, that handsome face slack with pleasure. His cock slapped wetly against his stomach, smearing precum everywhere. The sounds were filthy—skin on skin, wet squelch of lube and precum, his broken moans, my own grunts. I reached down and stroked him in time with my thrusts and he came with a shout, thick ropes painting his chest, some landing on his own face and in his open mouth. His ass clamped down so hard I saw stars and followed him over the edge, pumping deep inside that perfect, twitching hole.

Afterward he lay there wrecked and gorgeous, cum cooling on his skin, chest still heaving, that lazy post-orgasm smirk back in place. He reached up and dragged a finger through the mess on his pec, then sucked it clean with a filthy little sound.

“Round two in ten?” he asked, already half-hard again.

I laughed, low and satisfied, and reached for my phone where it sat on the nightstand. Chronivac still open. I could already see the next tweaks I wanted—maybe make that cock even thicker, or add a little more submissiveness so he’d beg prettier, or turn up the nipple sensitivity until he could cum just from me playing with his chest.

Reece—my Reece—stretched like a big satisfied cat, completely oblivious, completely mine.

“Whatever you want, roomie,” I said, already sliding the sliders. “I’ve got all night.”

And I did. The Chronivac glowed. His body was already starting to respond again, cock twitching, nipples tightening, that perfect ass clenching in anticipation he didn’t understand.

I smiled and hit Apply.

The night was just getting started.

--------------------------------------------------------

Weeks blurred into the best semester of my life. Reece just being a perfect roommate for me in every single way. He's the perfect jock bro who somehow anticipated every need before I even voiced it. He’d wake up early to make me protein-packed breakfasts, shirtless and still sleepy, those heavy pecs swaying as he flipped eggs and hummed off-key. He quizzed me on lecture notes while doing sets of push-ups between my desk and the bed, his pumped chest glistening, that cocky smirk flashing every time I got an answer right. After long nights hunched over textbooks he’d pull me into his lap, big hands kneading the knots out of my shoulders and back until the massage inevitably turned filthy.

And you know the rest of it. He’d fuck me slow and deep right there in the desk chair, one arm braced beside my open textbook, the other stroking my cock in time with his thrusts, whispering encouragement between kisses until we both came in a messy, groaning tangle. And every single time he acted like it was the most natural thing in the world for a bi jock to dote on his stressed-out roommate like this. He had no idea how perfectly I’d programmed him to be exactly what I needed.

Exam week hit hard. I was a wreck—eyes bloodshot, shoulders locked, barely sleeping, stress radiating off me in waves. Reece noticed immediately. He didn’t push, just brought me extra snacks, left little encouraging notes on my desk like “You’re gonna crush it, roomie”, and gave me those long, grounding hugs that always ended with his hand sliding into my sweats for a quick, filthy handjob that left me boneless and a little less panicked. This morning he’d kissed the back of my neck before heading out, murmuring, “Text me if it gets too much. I’ve got you.” I thought that was it.

I was already sitting in class, and almost everyone had already left. One exam was over, and two more were left. I took a deep breath as my phone lit up with a message from him.

Reece:

Hey stressed boy. Saw how tense you looked when you left. Figured my favorite nerd needed something to take the edge off before that exam. Don’t overthink it. You’ve got this. I’m so fucking proud of you.

Come home after and I’ll help you celebrate properly. Love you, bro 💪❤️🍆

Attached was a video.

I opened it with shaking hands, already half-hard from the tone alone.

“Figured you needed a reminder of what’s waiting for you when that exam’s over,” he rumbled, voice low and intimate like he was right there in the room with me.

“Been thinking about you all morning, roomie. How haaaarddd you’re working… how gooood you’re gonna look when you ace this shit.” He wrapped his big hand around the shaft and started stroking—slow, deliberate, wet schlick-schlick sounds filling the audio as more precum leaked steadily, dripping onto the tile between his feet. His balls hung heavy and full, swinging with every stroke.

"These are all pumped for you. Wish you were here so I could shove your face between them while you study.” His strokes sped up, the head of his cock flaring, the wet sounds getting louder and messier.

“Gonna cum for you right now, bro. Think about this load painting your chest later… or filling that tight ass after your exam. You deserve it. You’re gonna do so fucking good.” His breathing grew ragged, that handsome face tightening with pleasure, the cocky smirk melting into something raw and desperate. “Nngh—fuck—here it comes—FUCKKKK—watch me, roomie—”

Reece came hard, thick ropes of cum erupting across his abs and up onto those heavy pecs, some splattering his chin and lower lip. He kept stroking through it, milking every pulse, hips jerking, deep groans echoing in the locker room. When it finally slowed he brought the camera back up to his cum-streaked chest and smirked again, licking a stray drop from his lip.

“There. Now go crush that exam like the smart, sexy nerd you are. I’ll be waiting. Love you.”

The video ended on that smirk and those glistening, cum-covered pecs.

I set the phone down, took a deep breath, and turned back to my notes with a small, private smile. The exam suddenly felt manageable. And when it was over, I knew exactly who would be waiting—shirtless, smirking, already half-hard and ready to help me celebrate in the filthiest, most caring way possible.

Thanks to Chronivac, my annoying homophobic dad was nothing but a distant memory. In his place was Reece—my perfect, ridiculously devoted, best jock roommate ever who somehow always knew exactly how to take care of me.

And I was never letting him go.

[mintingods]

Not my usual topic, but when I saw the first pic I just wanted to complete it

First pic by @forthegaze123

Second and third pic by me, derived from the first pic

_________________________________

The late afternoon sun hung low over Daffa’s family farm in the rolling hills outside of town. The air was thick with the scent of wet earth, fresh hay, and the faint musk of livestock. No one else was around for miles—just the two of them, hidden behind the old wooden barn where Daffa kept his “special projects.” The injection he’d just swapped into Yoshi’s usual regimen was already beginning to work its magic.

Daffa stood in front of the much larger, once-proud Yoshi, who was now wearing novelty cow-patterned shorts Daffa thought was funny. Yoshi’s body—sculpted from years of iron and gear—was now ready for its next evolution. Especially his pecs, which was plumped up accordingly.

“We’re on my family farm, Yoshi,” Daffa murmured, his voice low and teasing as he ran a hand down the bigger man’s sweat-slicked back. “Nobody can bother us here.”

Yoshi shifted, still trying to maintain some composure, his deep voice a little unsteady, mind groggy from the sleeping pills. “Daffa… what are you talking about? I was just in my dressing room. Why am I tied up? What's going on?”

Daffa smiled, circling around to face him. Yoshi’s chest rose and fell heavily, already sensitive. “I just switched out your usual injections. I had to. You took my role…”

Yoshi’s eyes widened, a flicker of confusion crossing his handsome face. “Your role? Daffa, come on. It's just a role. I can get you in another role. This is getting weird—let’s just untie me and we'll talk about it, okay?”

Daffa stepped closer, pressing a firm hand against Yoshi’s swelling chest. “No, you can’t go back, Yoshi… I don’t think you even want to…”

Before Yoshi could protest further, Daffa squeezed both heavy pecs in his strong hands.

A sharp, involuntary moan tore from Yoshi’s throat, quickly melting into a low, bovine moo right in the middle of his sentence. “D-Daffa—ahh—mooo! W-what the fuck… that feels… mooo… so fucking good…”

Milk—warm, sweet, and plentiful—spurted from his thickening nipples, splattering onto the dirt floor between them. Yoshi’s knees buckled slightly, but Daffa held him upright, squeezing again, slower this time, watching the pleasure wash over the bigger man’s face.

“That’s right,” Daffa cooed, voice dripping with satisfaction. “You’re built for milking now… my little milking himbo… no more acting… that's for humans…”

Yoshi’s head tipped back, eyes half-lidded, cheeks flushed dark. He tried to speak clearly, but the words kept breaking. “I… I don’t—mooo!—I don’t know what’s happening to me… it tingles so much… mooo… please, Daffa, I—mooo!—I can’t think straight…”

Daffa’s fingers circled Yoshi’s sensitive nipples, tracing the swollen areolas that were growing wider and darker with every heartbeat. He could feel the flesh plumping up under his touch, filling with more milk, becoming impossibly sensitive. Yoshi’s cock strained hard against his pants, leaking, as the transformation deepened—his voice dropping lower, throat thickening, horns just beginning to nudge at his temples beneath his messy hair.

“I know you feel it tingling…” Daffa whispered hotly against Yoshi’s ear, giving another firm, milking squeeze that sent fresh streams of milk splashing down. “You need me to squeeze it more, right? If you want me to milk you dry, you be a good boy and take more injections, okay? Now moo for me…”

Yoshi’s massive body shuddered. His resistance was crumbling fast, replaced by raw, needy pleasure. “Y-yes… mooo!… I’ll be good… mooo!… It feels too good, Daffa—mooo!—I need it… milk me… mooo!… Please squeeze harder…”

“Good boy…” Daffa praised, rewarding him with long, rhythmic squeezes. Milk flowed freely now, puddling at their feet as Yoshi’s pecs grew even heavier, rounder. The big himbo’s eyes rolled back in ecstasy, soft moos mixing with desperate whimpers as his mind fogged over with bliss.

Daffa kept milking him under the golden farm light, the barn animals lowing softly in the distance as if answering their new brother. Yoshi’s old life—his ambitions, his pride—was melting away with every squirt, every deep, pleasure-drunk moo. He was Daffa’s now. A perfect, obedient, endlessly productive milking himbo, right where he belonged on the family farm.

Daffa leaned in, kissing the side of Yoshi’s thickening neck. “That’s it… keep mooing for me, big guy. We’ve got all night… and the rest of your life.”

==================================

The old barn doors creaked shut behind Daffa as he stepped inside, the warm afternoon light filtering through gaps in the wooden slats and casting golden stripes across the hay-strewn floor. The air was thick with the rich, sweet scent of fresh milk and heavy masculine musk. In the center of the space, laying on top of the hay pile he calls his bed, sat Yoshi.

He was massive now. Over seven and a half feet tall, shoulders so broad they strained the reinforced beams on either side. Hundreds of pounds of thick, powerful, plush muscle packed onto his frame — a true milking himbo. His once-athletic body had ballooned into something obscene and perfect: enormous, heavy pecs that hung like full udders, each one swollen and veined, dark nipples thick and constantly leaking. His abs beautiful but useless, thighs like tree trunks, and a fat, heavy cock hung between them, semi-hard and dripping. Small horns curved from his temples, and his eyes were glassy with constant, dumb pleasure.

Yoshi’s head lolled forward as another contraction rippled through his chest. A thick stream of milk pattered down his body.

“MooOOoo…” he lowed deeply, the sound vibrating through his massive chest.

Daffa approached slowly, running a hand along one massive, quivering pec. “Look at you, big guy. All settled into your new life on the farm.”

Yoshi’s eyes fluttered, trying to focus on his Master. His voice had become a deep, slow, bovine rumble, words simple and broken by instinctive moos.

“M-Master… mooo… milk… please…”

Daffa grinned, gripping both heavy udders firmly and giving them a long, slow squeeze. Milk gushed out in powerful jets, splashing loudly into buckets. Yoshi’s entire body shuddered, knees buckling slightly in the restraints as pleasure crashed through him.

“MooOOoo! Master—mooo!—milk… feels so good… mooo… please… more…”

“That’s right,” Daffa murmured, circling his thumbs over the sensitive, leaking nipples. “No more roles for you. No more competition. Just my big, dumb, milky himbo.”

He kept milking rhythmically for a few minutes, letting Yoshi’s moos fill the barn, before stepping back with a wicked little smile.

“Oh, and I got you a gift, Yoshi. I know you probably can’t even comprehend freedom anymore… so I got you something much better.”

Daffa wheeled out a heavy, chrome milking machine from the corner — a custom-built rig with thick, padded suction cups, humming pumps, and collection tanks. The cups were perfectly sized for his himbo’s massive, swollen nipples.

Yoshi’s eyes widened with hazy recognition, his fat cock twitching hard. “Master… mooo!… Gift?… Milk… machine… mooo!… Please… yes…”

Daffa laughed softly and fitted the warm suction cups over Yoshi’s thick nipples. The machine kicked on with a low, rhythmic thrum. Powerful suction pulled at his udders immediately, drawing out long, continuous streams of milk that rattled into the transparent tanks.

“MooOOooOOoo!!” Yoshi bellowed in pure ecstasy, hips bucking as the machine milked him with perfect, relentless pressure.

“Master—mooo!—milk… machine… so good… mooo!… Please… don’t stop… mooo!… Your… himbo… loves… gift… moooOOoo!”

Daffa stepped close again, one hand stroking Yoshi’s leaking cock while he watched the tanks fill rapidly. “Good boy. This is what you were always meant for… out here on the family farm. Just you, me, and your new favorite toy draining those fat milky udders all day and night.”

Yoshi could only nod dumbly, drooling and mooing nonstop as the machine worked him over. His mind was completely gone — just warm pleasure, endless milk, and total devotion to his Master.

The sun dipped lower outside, but inside the barn, Daffa had all the time in the world to enjoy his perfect, transformed milking himbo… and his new favorite gift.

_______________________________

Debated going for horns or no horns, I have the hornless version if anyone wants to see

Thank you for reading, lmk whatcha think!

[dreamertf]

Rebalancing (part 2)

/part 1

It had been a few weeks since James and Tristan had hooked up. Since then James had experimented even more, figuring out that his new body needed to be dominated. He fought back against it, the urge to be submissive, but that didn't last very long. As his body continued to get smaller, he kept working out. Thinking that he might be able to reverse the changes if he tried hard enough, but it ended up speeding up the process. The only muscles that seemed to grow were his ass and legs.

Although he was going through turmoil, it was slowly dissipating as changes were finalizing. Mental changes forcing themselves even into his subconscious.

Something that helped him to move on was how no one else remembered him any other way. He has always been the twunkish guy working at the gym. He always bleached his hair. He always flirted with all his clients. The James that called gay people slurs behind their backs was no longer, he had no room to talk when he was the biggest cocksucker in town.

He very quickly ran through most of the guys at the gym, but one remained– Luke. He had continued to coach him, but Luke seemed to be drawing it out. He had continued to flirt with James, and now James flirted back. Luke had become quite a specimen himself. They had fully swapped heights recently, James becoming Luke's old height of 5’7” and Luke becoming James' 6’1”. Not only had Luke gained all the muscle that James had lost, he was growing on top of that. James was a good coach and he knew that.

He had no idea that Luke was bi, but after his changes accelerated he started talking to the girls in the gym. It did not take long for their knees to buckle, and James was jealous. Not only because of Luke being so masculine or because of him being able to like girls, but because he desperately wanted to take a ride on that cock.

—

James pushed up his new glasses, he never had to wear glasses and he still didn't– but he found himself more into fashion as of late. The glasses made him look cuter and he liked that.

*Cling Clang*

“Wow, you're really putting me through it, aren't ya” Luke huffed out as he sat up from the bench press. James watched as he cupped his hands under the hemline of his tank top ripping it over his head exposing his new muscles that weren't that a month ago. He wiped his forehead with it and threw it to the side.

“oh i know this isn't that hard for you” James said, seductively, biting his lip as his eyes trailed down to Luke's long powerful legs.

“You're not very discrete, you know that?” Luke said, standing up to his full height getting closer to James. His voice a low purr.

“Neither are you” James muttered out, his heart skipping a beat.

Luke got closer, his voice even whispered held power, “I just like seeing the person I thirsted for in the same position.”

James went speechless, this was the first time either of them had said anything out loud about them changing.

“Have you been doing this?” James quivered.

“Who knows?” he said smirking– shrugging his broad muscular shoulders, “I'll see you around, Jamesy.”

—

1 new message + image attachment from; “Client, Luke”

“Sup bitch, thinking about your ass rn. But I can't let u have this, not yet.”

James couldn't stop thinking about Luke, even when he was fucking other guys he constantly fantasized about Luke– imagining what it would be like if he was the one behind him, sliding his thick cock into him.

Tristan was a constant, still his best friend– although fuck buddies was more appropriate now.

“Girl you're still letting that man string you along? What does he mean he ‘can't let you have it’? He can do whatever he wants, he's a grown man.” Tristan slung over the couch as James stared at the message from Luke, his shorts obviously tenting.

“Ugh you wouldn't get it, it's complicated”

“Sure” Tristan said rolling his eyes.

—

Another week had passed by, cementing their realities as James' memories continued to be overwritten. A part of him deep down still knew that this wasn't his original body though.

He looked into the mirror in the gym, his ass had grown even more, which he wasn't complaining about. As he trailed his slimmer hands over his shoulders and pecs he lamented about the mass he used to have, although his current body definitely was not bad. He still had a pretty good amount of muscle, it just wasn't at the point he wanted to. He had never been able to really put on mass on top. Always bottom heavy– which he couldn't really complain about since he was a power bottom.

What the hell am I thinking?

He shook his head as his 3 o'clock walked through the doors. “Sup fag.” Luke spat out.

—

During the whole session the tension between them was palpable. Their height differences added to it as Jamesy realized that Luke was taller- again. He had to be 6’3”, which only meant that he had to be shorter– 5’5”.

After their session Jamesy sat at the front desk. His glasses off, face in his hands rubbing his eyes thinking about Luke. Suddenly, Luke popped out of the locker room with nothing on but a towel around his waist.

“Hey, coach. Can you come help me real quick”

Immediately he got up and marched over. As soon as the locker room doors closed Luke slammed Jamesy against the wall.

“I bet you aren't ready for me” James gulped as Luke looked him up and down. “That spell did wonders to your body, y'know? It's been so hard to resist fucking your brains out, but I couldn't risk you reverting back. Us reverting back.”

James had no time to process anything as Luke immediately stuck his long tongue into his mouth, exploring it as they ripped each other's clothes off. Luke pulled away and James followed, Luke forcefully pushing James down onto the locker room bench.

“Didn't know the spell would make me hella horny, but here we are– and I'm not complaining.” He smirked as his briefs came off, a thick 10 inch hard python leaking pre revealing itself. James gasped. Luke started to pump his shaft up and down slowly, James’ eyes glued to it. Hypnotized by how his giant hand played with his beautiful vascular cock.

“All for you baby”

James jumped onto his dick, savoring the taste of his cum. He had gotten very good at giving blow jobs, he could tell by how Luke went completely silent, trying to stifle back his moans. Seeing a man so big and dominant brought down a few pegs was so hot. James expertly took his whole dick down without breaking a sweat. Savoring the taste of his sweaty skin.

“F-fuck I'm gonna…” a large torrent of cum shot straight into James as luke shoved it in deeper, straight to the base as the scent of Luke's musty pubes wofted into his nose. James also came a pathetic squirt, all his senses enraptured by sex.

Pulling out, cum dribbled off Jamesy's lips. Luke pulled him up, licking his cum off of James' face as he went in for a kiss.

James felt the pulsating sticky member of Luke's against his abs as Luke pulled away from his face. “Oh I'm not done with you yet.”

“I have to erase your old self. I know its deep in there still.” Luke's hand caressed James’ face, his eyes terrified.

James bent over the bench willingly, his ass pointing up expectantly.

“Good boy,” Luke purred as he slid his fat cock in between James’ cheeks. James had waited for what felt like years. No- it had been years since Luke had started training with him. He was the one who made Luke into the monster he is today.

James gasped as he felt Luke's head force itself into his tight hole. It was the biggest he had ever taken, and he was ready. Luke continued to edge in and it felt like an eternity. When he thought it would stop Luke's cock just kept forcing itself into him. He writhed in pain and bliss as Luke's warm calloused gigantic hands gripped his slim waist.

As Luke slid his entire length in, the changes were being finalized. A pulse came across the both of them for the last time, James’ features softened a bit more, his eyes large and fluttery. It was a euphoric feeling as he felt Luke's giant dick in him, what he didn't realize was his own dick was shrinking. James gasped as he felt Luke's dick go even further into him despite feeling Luke's waist against his ass. His cock pulsated as it became wider. Luke's balls became bigger as James’ became even smaller.

“Ohhh fuck…” Luke moaned as he grew, his voice deepening, his shoulders slightly widening, his pecs pushing an inch forward.

Luke pulled out a bit, starting slow. Ramping up as James screamed in pain and ecstasy. After awhile the two were incredibly sweaty, Luke was on the edge and he knew it. Without any trouble Luke picked James up while he was still on his dick and spun him around to face him. His gigantic arm easily supported James as he fucked him mid air. James felt the coldness of the lockers against the back of his head as Luke fucked him against the lockers. Their eyes locked as they studied each other's handsome faces.

Luke slowed down, “You're gorgeous, you know that?”

James blushed, looking away as Luke picked up the pace again, going even more aggressive as the sounds of squelching and moaning filled the room.

Luke wandered down James’ body, taking in just how well the spell worked. Not brutish anymore, but lean, lithe, cute. James came again, a pathetic little squirt from his 3 inch hard dick. The cum cascading over his own abs as he moaned.

Finally, Luke came as he once again thrusted all the way in, filling him up as seconds went by of a constant stream of thick seed.

James had finally let go, no longer remembering his past self as pure bliss and pain filled him.

—

James loved being a personal trainer. Sure he wasn't the biggest guy, but he would be able to ogle all the hotties without it being super weird– plus he got to make them hotter! James found nothing sexier than taking someone with potential and making them an absolute masterpiece. He had a line of guys busting down the door to be trained by him, but his favorite of late was Luke. How could it not be? Luke was the type of person to suck the air out of a room as soon as he walked in. 6 foot 3, 300 perfect pounds of hunky muscle, all of that with a gorgeous face. That's not all either, he was rumored to have a dick that was 12 inches soft. James would know, being one of Luke's little fuck toys.

[dreamertf]

Rebalancing (Part 1)

/ happy pride! Got some requests for a twink tf so here ya go I also think this is my first ever 2 part story, I usually never do that! However the story got incredibly long and so I wanted to give you guys this one slowly ;)

/Straight to gay, the tf doesn't finish until part 2

/tw: use of f slur, misogyny

James hated being a personal trainer. He thought that he would get to hit on all the ladies but they barely came to him. Unbeknownst to him his reputation of being an asshole has dissuaded the general public to his services, the only ones that were willing were gay guys that had a thing for being talked down to. Constantly he would complain about the sissies coming in, but he tried to remain cordial. Although how well he was able to hide his animosity was another story. He admitted that he did feel a bit of a rush whenever a fag would be checking him out, not because he was gay or anything– but because he felt powerful. Like he had these gay men in the palm of his hand. He just wished that some bitches would come get trained by him too.

Recently this guy, Luke, has been coming in to see James, and he was forward- a bit too forward for his liking. It had been a few months and the twink wouldn't stop hitting on him, but he couldn't lose another client. His boss had threatened to fire him if he kept losing clients– so he was stuck. James thinks that Luke knows this and is using it to his advantage.

"God you're so gloomy today Jamesy" Luke said after their first set. James hated when Luke called him that.

"Dont worry about it boy, keep doing your sets"

Luke scoffed, "if you weren't so hot I'd quit on spot ya'know. You treat me like a kid but I'm older than you”

James went quiet. He was so tired of Luke but his boss was watching him like a hawk. Trying to not look at Luke’s face he averted his gaze, looking down at Luke James realized something he’s never seen before– how nice Luke’s legs were. He had seen the twink’s legs plenty of times, it was literally his job to watch his form. Maybe the workouts were finally working out, however for some reason he couldn’t stop staring. 

*snap*

“A little distracted are we?” Luke whispered, “Seems like ol’ James might have a little fruit in the tank after all.”

“What the hell are you talking about, get back to it.”

—

Over the next week James couldn't really explain what was happening to him. No girl was grabbing his attention and usually he would be able to at least settle with some chick for the night. At least he had his bro Tristan to keep him company at the bars.

“Bro I just don't get it, none of these bitches are doin’ it for me lately. I just need to fuuuckkk, a man can only goon so much.” 

“C'mon big guy chill out, I'm sure you'll find someone tonight” Tristan reassured him. Little to James’ knowledge Tristan was bi and had been trying to get with him since they became friends. 

Listening to Tristan he thought about what a good friend he’s been over the years, he felt like he was unfair to him at times– but even then he still stuck by him. He was so loyal, kind, charming, kinda cute, sexy–

Shit.

With Tristan's hand on his shoulder he felt something stir in his pants. He looked down embarrassed. Tristan only took a second to think before immediately taking initiative.

“Do you want me to help you with that?... big guy” Tristan's grip tightened. Immediately James got harder.

Tristan struggled to fully wrap his arm around the shoulders of the taller man, opting to grab James by his waist, “let’s get out of here.” James nodded, bright red.

What the fuck is going on with me, Why can’t I stop?

“Luckily I’m right down the road or we would’ve had to fuck in the bathroom stall” Tristan snickered.

“Shh- not so loud!”

“Please, like everyone didn't see your giant ass dick sticking straight out”

James felt like a complete prisoner in his body. It wanted what it wanted, and right now what it wanted was to fuck his best friend.

—

As soon as the door closed James pushed Tristan onto the couch. He had been hungry like never before, ripping off Tristan’s tight black tank top like he was a gift on christmas eve. His tongue explored Tristan’s body, trailing down from his neck as he grazed his sweaty pecs and abs. Unbuckling his pants, sniffing the musk coming from Tristan’s crotch. 

He was in heaven.

A look of confusion came across James’ face as he looked down at his cock, sure it was sizable but he swore that it looked a little smaller. It didn’t matter right now, he just need to fuck Tristan. Getting on top James slid his cock in between Tristan’s muscular ass cheeks.

“Fuck stop teasing me” Tristan whimpered out.

“You wanna talk about teasing?” James bit back as he reached around Tristan, rubbing his nipples. As he did so he slid into him slowly.

“F-fuck you’re so big…”

“I know, slut”

He started slow, he had never given anal– or received it for that matter. He was scared to hurt Tristan, an instinct he never felt when he was with a girl. He picked up the pace as the heavy sticky sound of his balls slapping Tristan’s ass reverberated through the apartment. Truthfully, it did not take long for James to cum, it was nothing like he had ever experienced, cumming inside his best friend. He soon realized that Tristan had not cum yet as he flipped him around, Tristan’s thick cock pulsating against his abs–  leaking pre. 

He had never given a blowjob before but seeing Tristan absolutely out of breath so compromised sparked something in him. He spread Tristan’s thick muscular thighs apart as he wrapped his lips around Tristan’s head. He played with him a little as he licked the slit up and down, slowly edging the thick cock further down his throat.

“Oh fuck.. Look up at me baby...” Tristan whimpered, his voice hitching like James had never heard before.

With his pleading eyes Tristan swore that James looked, cuter? His eyes were bigger, his eyelashes longer. Even his hair seemed more like a dirty blonde than brown, a little more grown out then he usually had it. James fully took Tristan’s cock in his mouth as he bopped up and down, his hands– a little smaller– wrapped around Tristan’s waist. 

Tristan finally came, James tried to unlatch before– but he was too late. Tristan’s salty seed coming out in ribbons both inside James’ mouth and all over his face. 

“Wow, you look adorable. You’re a natural Jamesy.” Tristan huffed out, ruffling James’ slightly lighter hair.

James got up and cuddled up with Tristan, James taking little spoon– craving the protection of a bigger man. Lusting to be dominated, protected. 

—

As the morning came, sunlight shone through the blinds in streaks. As soon as James opened his eyes he found Tristan sitting in an armchair across from him, a cup of coffee in his hand and on the table. 

“Goodmorning, how do you feel?” 

He was conflicted, but he felt good. James nodded his head. 

“You should probably get cleaned up, you still have a bit of me in your hair.”

James blushed again, never has he felt so small– especially with Tristan. James stumbled into the bathroom rubbing his eyes. He didn’t entirely remember last night but that was okay, he just remembered feeling good. Splashing water in his face he felt rejuvenated, his eyes focusing on the mirror as he shrieked– his voice higher pitched. 

“WHAT THE FUCK?” His voice was not only higher pitched, but flamboyant. The bro-y tone completely gone. 

He looked like him, but there were several things wrong. The first thing he noticed was his hair, although the brown was still there in the roots, it looked like his hair had been bleached overnight. His face was softer, not as square. His body was still muscular, although there was definately less mass now.

Tristan rushed in, “WHAT’S GOING ON”

“I look so..” he couldn’t say it, his mouth wouldn’t budge.

“What’s wrong?”

In the mirror behind him Tristan was now taller, not by much but definitely enough to be noticeable considering he used to be taller than him. James broke down crying, falling onto the floor.

“Hey… it’s okay.” Tristan was confused, not knowing why James was being so emotional. He tried to console him, wrapping his muscular arms around James’ now smaller frame.

—

Across the apartment in James’ pants next to the sofa, a light buzz went unnoticed by the both of them.

1 new message + image attachment from; “Client, Luke”

“Heyyy missin u, excited for our sesh today. c u later cutie <3”

/ part 2

[men-for-transformation]

TURN INTO

[men-for-transformation]

TURN INTO

[mucleinmovement]

[mucleinmovement]

[dissolving--time]

°

[jacques90]

Beautiful Backside……..Bet He Would Look Even Hotter Bent Over Getting Plowed 🥵🥵🥵

[offthetop]

Nice 🍑

[tabbs1963]

[offthetop]

😛

[bg2468]

[offthetop]

Cocky fucker