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AITA for not wanting to come to my best friend’s run?
Me (20M) and my best friend (20M), let’s call him Matt, have been friends since primary school. We were always the nerds at school : he’s kinda chubby and wears glasses, I’m tall and scrawny and although I don’t wear glasses, I wore them until middle school.
We bonded over nerdy interests like video games and comics, and often went to the night market together to search for a Sonic game, Pokémon cards and new comics (he’d even encourage me to read them at the booth before the shopkeeper noticed !). We were inseparable best friends, doing everything together.
But when we started going to middle school things started being complicated. You know, the guys start becoming jocks and they start acting like assholes who only care about developing their social network and sports, while they let their schoolwork go to waste.
I was always against that ! I was often top of the class because I studied well, while they willingly abandoned that ! But Matt was not faring as well as I did. You see, while he is very intelligent, he has trouble concentrating, so he did not work a lot and did not get exceptional grades. His parents would often chastise him for it, calling those grades explicitly bad (while jocks had much worse results !) so you can imagine that he was very down during middle and high school.
I tried to help him by showing how much he was not like the jocks ! I would tell him that they play football, grow their muscles, get cringey hairstyles, listen to rap, go to parties, etc. etc. Also they would get expensive skin treatments that makes their body unnatural and all that (which I insisted on because at the time he was quite self-conscious about his bad case of acne)
And he did none of those jock things, so he just had to concentrate a bit more and ask for help ! He had all it takes to become a productive member of society unlike them ! I even helped him avoid that trap when we came back from holidays once and he grew a mustache even though it’s something only jocks do (he said it was a dare from his sister though)
So fast forwards to around today. We made sure to go to the same local university and both went to IT. I continued helping him with his classes, but I noticed that he started hanging out with non-mutual friends more and more (which is fine,in principle!)
However, I noticed that he started changing little by little, and not for the better. Individually they were not thatbad : he got himself a more "popular" haircut with short sides, he started to listen to more R&B-like music, he decided to stop the study sessions… but taken together it’s as if he was getting more jock-like as time went on.
Of course, I had to snap him out of it ! So we got into a discussion, that turned into an argument when he told me that he wanted to switch majors to business, and in the end he said that he would be eating with someone I’ll name Peter (20M I think ?) that is likethebig jock in class !
We haven’t properly talked since, and I think I’m losing my best friend to the band of those vain people who only care about sports and parties, not about having a successful career and serving the nation.
So that was all the background to why I’m writing this post in the first place (that argument was 1 month ago btw) : two days ago he sent me a message asking me whether I’ll cheer for him at that big night run event that happens in my city tomorrow.
I feel very bad about all of that, because I feel Matt will become a worse version of himself and he has put so much effort into becoming a good person ! So I don’t want to enable him in that bad path ! But at the same time… I just miss my best friend, I want him back, so I’m having second thought.
Considering all of that, AITA ?
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And I hit send on the post.
It was… hard to put all my feelings like that on the internet. It feels as if I am naked in front of everybody, especially in front of a public tens of thousands big ‒ considering Reddit’s size.
But I need an outside opinion. Especially considering I am someone who strongly believes in better rather than more numerous friends, so losing one is painful ‒ especially one as important to me as Mateus.
He was always so important to me, and was even the one who supported me while I was struggling with my sexuality over highschool and uni ! He was the one to accept me as his gay friend even though he’s 100% straight !
And I should show him the same kindness he has shown me by keeping him on the straight path towards success and a good life ! It is just the natural and kind thing to do !
However, barely a few minutes after that post was sent, comments start pouring in. And they are… not delightful.
YTA For the love of god go get checked you’ve got some terrible af opinions
No wonder your friend wants an out
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Wayyyyy too much details I’m not here to read a biography!
YTA btw
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YTA bro can’t assume he has a type and bullies his friend for it :D :D :D
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How can people be so mean ? After I poured my heart online this is what they have to answer ! They’re mocking me ! I should never have done this, I’ll be better working this all out alone !
This was such a huge mistake, I’ll delete my post and stop the bloodbath. I don’t want people coming from that and review bombing the Sonic fangame I’m working on for daring to ask help on the internet.
Before I do that, I do check the last comment notification. Just in case, before pulling the plug entirely.
YTA. I think you ultimately mean well, but you are wayyy too afraid of change to consider your friend’s feelings properly.
If you want to continue being friend with Matt (which I assume you want), you should go to that run and support him on this new phase of his life.
People change, and you should be ready to accept that. And who knows, you might find that this new Matt is not as bad as you imagined ;)
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I stop, and after rereading it a few times, I decide to give it an upvote. In fact, as kinder comments pour in and the aggressive ones get pruned out by moderation, they all seem to confirm the read of that commentator.
Is it possible that the Mateus I’d see tomorrow is still the Mateus I know ? Or is it only the beginning of the end as he drifts towards jockhood, idle life and forgets everything we love ? Everything he is ?
Or is it all just because I don’t want things to change ?
I mulled over the question for a whole day and was not able to come to a conclusive answer. The only decision I was able to come to ‒ one that got confirmed by even more of the comments and discussions spawning under my post ‒ is that I should go see Mateus’ run. At least for a last goodbye before he is lost forever.
So I send him a message that I’ll be there ‒ mere hours before the start. He answered excitedly, saying that he wished I could run with him for this "run of a lifetime".
What a joke. But…. I have already decided to make an effort. Just this once.
To say farewell to my friend.
I dress myself in my smart-looking chinos and polo, my short kinky black hair well in place, ready to go out… to see a running competition. What a peculiar situation to find myself in.
When I arrive at the place where the competition is set to start, I notice Mateus already in runner’s gear : black shorts, a black graphic tee with anime motifs hanging loose, a black cotton band right above his glasses and a white square biometric watch ‒ how he managed to get a hold of that with his meager student funds is beyond me.
But before I can approach him, I see him in discussion… with Pedro. That looksmaxxer-type guy with those perfect curls that is definitely in our IT class with the sole goal of showing off his big muscles. I always keep an eye on him whenever he appears... Because he is the exact kind of bad influences I am afraid of.
When Mateus notices me however, he dismisses the jock and trots towards me.
"Hey, Gabriel ! So you ended up coming !" He smiles weakly.
‒ Well, I at least owed you that…"
An awkward silence falls upon both of us.
"So I’m guessing I should just watch you from those bleachers ?" I point to the temporary set of benches set in reclining fashion near the race beginning.
‒ Yeah, that would be the best place ! The whole course is 10km long, there are two laps of 5km, so this way you can see me three times ! And you’ll even see my finish !" He seems excited by this prospect. "They also have a big screen so you’ll see me even when I’m in another part of the course !
‒ Okay."
I don’t actually really know what to say. We awkwardly wave each other goodbye, but before we each go in our own direction I can’t help but sneak in a snarky remark.
"Have fun with Pedro !
‒ Hey !" He looks offended. "You know, when you get to know him he’s actually a cool guy !
‒ Well, I’m warning you, it’s not my fault if it ends badly.” I shoot an eye back at Pedro, who’s smiling talking with other contestants, shaking his perfect curls… Ugh. I snap my eyes back to my friend.
‒ Here we go again. You know, Gabriel, you’re so judgmental. I…" He sighs. "You know what, let’s talk again after the run."
I sigh, before taking place in the bleachers. I look at Mateus frolicking around with his jock friend. He stands out like a sore thumb, as the only chubby guy in a band of cut people ‒ granted there are a greater variety of men and women at the back.
But one thing that I notice is that his face radiates of happiness. An expression I have seen him bear rather little in the last few years ‒ most often when we were doing LAN parties or discussing the latest scans of One Piece.
Am I actually the asshole ?
Suddenly interrupting my idle thoughts, the sound system announces the imminent beginning of the race. All the runners take place in front of the beginning line. Mateus is squeezed in the middle of the pack, but his eyes show readiness.
Silence befalls the assembly, in anticipation. Everybody looks focused, ready to run at the very moment the gun will fire. Even I am taken by the tension in the air, looking closely at my best friend.
And then...
BANG !
Everybody starts running. People in the bleachers start cheering, encouraging the friends they came to support. I, on the other hand, limit myself to staring at Mateus.
He does not have the greatest start as he is quickly squeezed by people on his sides as they try to pass him over. I see surprise in his eyes ‒ he likely expected people to simply run forwards, not try to converge towards the middle.
But he finally ends up advancing, and slowly leaves my field of view as I notice a drone flying overhead. I take this opportunity to look up at the giant screen, and see its footage alongside some data on the run and a map of where the runners are.
If I can concede to this race anything, it would be these shots. I have rarely seen Palhoça from above, and never at night. Seeing the city I’ve always called my home from this different angle is really impressive, and aesthetically pleasing in a way I wouldn’t have anticipated.
Suddenly, I notice Mateus in the footage. The image is taken from rather far away, but I can easily make out his all-black clothes on chubby form.
But there is something quite… weird on the footage. It is subtle, but he usually has hair that is just a bit wavy. However, in the footage, it looks messy, almost to the points where it looks… curly ?
No, it’s likely my imagination over-interpreting a bunch of blurry pixels. There’s no way someone’s hair spontaneously curls just because they’re taking part in a random night run. That’s ridiculous. And unscientific.
Imagine Mateus with one of those jockish hairstyles, hair settled into a bush of well-defined curls, bouncing under his step as they overhang on his headband and skin-shaved sides...
How ridiculous. He’d look atrocious like that. Absolutely. And if it happened to me, I’d panic, because I’m not one of those dumb jocks with those terrible hairstyles.
I refocus on the footage before me, and I notice that the angle of the drone has changed and obscured Mateus. I guess I did not notice that happening.
While waiting for him to reappear, however, I take a look over the other contestants. I recognize some of them ‒ not least of which Pedro and his perfect finger coils ‒ however some of them look a bit off.
I cannot really tell what, since I don’t have any interest for jocks, but just like Mateus… Yeah, just like Mateus it’s surely a matter of compression.
Speaking of, although I don’t see him on the screen just yet, I notice on the minimap that the runners are about to finish the first lap. Indeed, looking down to the street, I notice some people coming around from the right.
As the cheers start coming in, I decide that this will be a better sign than any that nothing happened and that this hallucination is but a product of my fears.
I watch as the runners start crossing the lap line one by one. Mateus is around the end of the main cohort last I saw ‒ which is much better than I ever expected him to manage ! ‒ so I bite my time.
Face after face cycle before my eyes. Most men bear facial hair and trendy hairstyles, while most women wear ponytails and skintight clothes.
And, suddenly, I notice him.
I watch him as he approaches.
I…
I cannot…
I can’t describe this.
He…
He actually has curly hair.
His glasses have disappeared.
And a mustache manifested.
What the fucking hell ? What is happening ? I swear he wasn’t like that when I saw him, else I would have freaked out already ! But that would have been nothing when compared to the freaking out I’m having right now !
Over the span of a few minutes, in a televised race, Mateus has not only somehow permed his hair creating some well-curated photogenic set of curls on top of his head, shaved to the skin the sides of his head to that cringey and atrocious style that all jocks seem to be in love with and corrected his vision to a point where he doesn’t need glasses anymore, but his lip has grown hair into a skinny but well-furbished mustache as well ?
This… this is not possible ! I stand up as if I could get a better look, but no matter how I look, where I look or when I look, he always looks… changed.
As I watch him leave my field of view, I cannot help but imagine how it must have been like. To be running, and as you run you take your hands up into your hair, likely to push up some loose strands. But those slowly start snaking under your fingers, looping around them little by little.
When you put your hand down, your hair bounces back up, but rather than their usual straight quality they keep that curly pattern, fluttering in the wind as it finds itself more voluminous. The air now has to pass through the sides of your head rather than on the busy top, becoming more and more sensitive as the hair there slowly shrinks. You take your glasses out as some strands stick on them, but your vision unblurs at that very moment, so you just decide to throw them aside to be forgotten.
You then put down your hand on your upper lip as it starts itching. You feel your skin becoming more and more rough below your fingertips, so you try rubbing it. But instead of softening it becomes even more coarse, as hairs start growing under your fingertips. It continues itching all over your upper lip, in a thin line up until a band of short hair has grown, and suddenly it becomes your new normal.
You always looked so vain, so self-important, so... eye-catching. Trying to make yourself look so good that you end up as a ridiculous amalgamation of ideas, none of which work together. Yet nobody can take their eyes off of you.
Or at least I can’t.
I try chasing those thoughts from my mind, but as I look back up at the giant screen, seeing the heads of all the runners, I can’t help but think of what happened to Mateus. What if the next time I see him he has changed again ? What if he is taller, skinnier, hairier… dumber ?
No, no, I don’t want that ! I want my friend ! I want my Mateus ! Not this horridly warped version of him that is corrupting into a jock ! I... I can’t look at it !
Yet, looking down to my legs, I just keep on thinking about those jocks, their immaculately ridiculous styles, their unwavering confidence and certainty in their self-righteousness.
I can’t ! I can’t think about that ! Or else... Else... I’ll continue thinking of what’s happening to Mateus ! yeah that’s totally what I’d be thinking of.
I finally look back up at the screen and look at the contestants. Thankfully, it seems like Mateus is not captured by the drone flying overhead.
But when I look at them I can’t help but wonder if they saw what happened to my best friend. If they noticed someone changing before their eyes. Or even if what happened to him happened to any of them.
How many of those contestants used to be normal people, before they suddenly became jocks, becoming the beacons of everybody’s attention ?
And how much will they still change before the end of this clearly cursed race ?
Suddenly, I notice from the corner of my eyes the ‒ now curly ‒ head of Mateus. I don’t want to look at him. I don’t want to push him into corruption.
When I finally take the courage to do look at him directly, I notice that his way of running looks… different.
It is weird, it seems like he is running better, faster, and even… tighter, if this makes sense. It’s as if his arms were pressed closer to his body, as if he had less bounciness to his step.
Is it just because he is tired ? No, if he was he’d be running slower, while he is in fact now higher than before in the cohort. Is it because he is getting used to it ? No, even if he was it wouldn’t change his corpulence.
The only solution is…
…
No, I refuse.
And indeed, just as I decide that, the drone pans towards the back of the pack, obscuring the faint figure of Mateus. I hear some rather loud fans scream encouraging words to people like Ana, Felipe, João or Cecília.
They seem all normal enough in that part of the pack, few look like outright jocks. Yet they participate in that running event, and are cheered on by their friends. Can you enjoy this kind of things without being a jock ? … or without becoming a jock ?
Soon enough more cheers ring, and looking at the map, I noticed that the runners are finally close to finishing their final lap. Looking to the right, as expected, the few forerunners appear, and seem to be starting a big sprint.
Well, sprint might be a big word, considering it is only a bit faster than the speed they had shown till now. I guess they are pretty tired after more than 35 minutes of running.
I scout every head. I recognize Pedro again, near the front of the pack, but I do not really care about him anymore. I want to see my best friend again.
And when the front of the pack starts being visible, my greatest fear has finally materialized.
Although the guy I see approaching the finish line has the traits of Mateu, none would believe them to be the same person. Not only does this new jock have a mustache, a curly undercut and has lost his glasses, but his body is entirely different.
His excess fat was all burned off, revealing inflated pectorals that firmly extend towards his shoulders. Those have grown in size, looking almost detached from the rest of Mateu’s body considering how boulder-y they look besides the man’s developed traps.
Below that, Mateu’s gut has fully receded, letting only what is presumably a skinny frame swim in the XL graphic tee, last remnant of the nerd I knew. In fact, when he takes its hem to sponge out sweat on his face, it reveals a pair of six packs remaining on his midsection.
His arms have also ballooned, biceps looking massive as he swings his arms in what is by now an expert motion. His ass seems to have been pushed out by all the muscles that have been developing in his legs, becoming perky ‒ and quite salacious.
Imagine for a second that you are in this run, and every step you take shrinks your gut and strengthens your leg… every swing of your arm strengthens your arms and pushes your pecs out…
Becoming a stud as you are reduced to a jock… Fuck, no, what am I even thinking ! This is… so bad ! All levels of bad ! I can’t be feeling‒ It’s Mateus we’re speaking about !
He is my best friend since primary school ! I shouldn’t be imagining his transformation, I should be regretting his old form ! Finding a way to bring him back to who he really is !But as he crosses the finish line, I see him exploding in glee, to a degree I have never seen him feel. He takes his shirt out fully and casts it aside before making bro-hugs with other contestants. Then, as if to rub salt in my wound, he faces the bleachers and flexes, grinning with perfect teeth in front of everyone.
I force myself to look away.
Tears leak out of my eyes.
I have lost a friend.
I don’t have the courage. There is no going back.
He… betrayed me.
Yet... my eyes cannot help but be drawn back to him.
I decide to walk out of the bleachers and start making my way out of the competition before the festivities can properly start.
I don’t want to meet him. I want to preserve the memory I have of him. I don’t want to keep thinking of this jock version of him. I want to think about the normal Mateus, not the eye-catchingly handsome jock with the ridiculous hair and mustache ! I want out of here !
"Gabriel !"
The voice sounds deeper and more confident, but I can immediately tell to whom it belongs.
I turn back and see the remains of my best friend motioning me to approach. My eyes look up and down, committing every detail to memory.
How can he still want to mock me ! He is renouncing all of our years of friendship, and now he wants to show me how much of a noob he was to be a nerd like me ?
How much he is better now, how much he loathes having ever been friends with me, how much he hates video games and comics ?
How much of a noob I am to still be one of those nerds ?
I furrow my brow and approach with conviction. I will show him that he has made a mistake. I will show him that he should have listened to me. I can bring his real self back.
Not only that, but I also won’t let him try to tempt me into becoming an unproductive member of society. I was right to say that going to a jock activity would make him into a jock, and I don’t want to fall in the same trap.
"What. Mateu." I ask, sharply, forcing myself to look away.
‒ What did you think of this ? I went above and beyond !
‒ Who are you and what did you do to Mateu."
His smile waivers.
"I am Mateu." The grin comes back, as he flexes. "I found my true self doing this race, and I guess its power remolded me into what I needed to be ! And I’m sure it can do the same to you !"
As I predicted, he wants me to join the side of the jocks. He wants me to think that this is normal, that this has always been what it should come down to.
"No, you’ve been… transformed ! You’re not the same person anymore !
‒ In some ways, yes. You know, I’ve always wanted to do that, to have fun doing sports and looking cool ! But I’m still me below !
‒ Hah ! Well I think we can agree that you’d rather die but try speedrunning Sonic 3 again. After all, now, you need to go to the gym, huh ?" I spit, my words full of vitriol.
‒ I’d die not trying to speedrun Sonic 3 again with you ! That was so fucking cool to do !
‒ You’re just trying to coax me into believing you are still the old you so you can drag me along with those… terrible fashion choices and all." I look away again.
His grin falls as he takes a long inspiration and pinches his nose.
"You know, you haven’t changed since middle school. You’re still so trapped up in your own world that you can’t even consider things that don’t fit in. You know, back in high school when I tried to grow my mustache ? I was so proud of it, I thought that finally this was something that would make me look good even if I had tons of acne ! But you decided that mustaches were one of those jock traits and you all but forced me to shave it down !
‒ Yes, but‒
‒ Let me finish." He cuts me violently. "So I did it, and then I felt terrible about it after. I was finally feeling good about myself, and I let you sacrifice me for you delusions. I would still have loved video games and comics, you know ! In fact, I still love them right now ! But I had to chose between feeling good with myself and being your friend. Yesterday, I chose being your friend, but today, I chose feeling good with myself."
I look at him. His eyes betray a deep sadness. It is not for show. These are his real feelings, that he hid from me all this time.
Was I… really the source of sadness ? The reason why he was seldom happy ? Was I a bad friend like those commentators were saying ?
Was I actually the asshole ?
"I don’t want to lose you." Tears start welling, again.
‒ Me neither. But I want to be my own person as well, and... you have prevented me from doing that, until now.
‒ I… I was trying to protect you ! I was worried that if I didn’t help you… what your parents were saying about you would be true…"
He gives me a weak smile.
"Who cares about them, really ? We’re both adults ! Now is the time to shape your stories ! Your fate is in your hand !"
I can’t help but laugh through my tears at the random Final Fantasy X quote, delivered with such panache.
It’s definitively Mateu under this mountain of muscles.
"Sorry… But, you’re sure this is what you want ? To be a jock ?
‒ Look cool and do sports like this ?" He flexes again. I look down. "Absolutely. But be a jock like in highschool ? Well I think you’d do better to update your playbook, because those I’ve met are nothing like those bullies."
I raise an eyebrow.
"Even Pedro ? He’s such a disgustingly vain guy, with how much effort he takes to look at the pinnacle of hotness ! ... which of course he isn’t ‒ have you seen his finger coils ?
‒ Honestly ? Especially Pedro. My god, Gabriel, you have to meet him. I’m sure you two would hit it off so well."
He shows a smile of a devilish quality that I know so well from all the times he made me fall for a prank.
I raise my second eyebrow, but then finally smile back.
"Well, I do owe you for being a terrible friend all these years. I cannot promise any kind of result, but I can promise that I’ll make an effort to tolerate him for an evening.
‒ Thanks, Gabriel."
He smiles, before looking around and approaching me. I can smell his sports funk ‒ which does turn me on a little.
"You know, parties like these were never really my thing… What do you say we go to your place and play some Street Fighter ?
‒ You’re on !"
UPDATE: AITA for not wanting to come to my best friend’s run?
Original here
First, thanks to all your comments. They were harsh, but ultimately… you guys were right.
I ended up going to Matt’s (my best friend) run, and we had the opportunity to talk. I saw that he was very happy in this new scene, but at the same time he was still the same person he always was. He’s just more complex than I ever gave him credits for.
I apologized for my behavior, and as a congratulations party we had a blast playing video games and talking about comics just like before. I have my best friend back !
Since then, I accepted to meet up with one of his jock friends (Peter that I mentioned last time). Turns out that guy is actually a very nice guy with the same kinds of interests as me, so I guess I was very wrong with all that jock traits thing ^^’
Matt meanwhile decided to switch majors to business next year and signed up for the running club, all the while he helped me in creating a retro games club at our university. He smiles a lot more, and even found a girlfriend !
So thank you Reddit for opening my eyes and saving my friendship !
Also, at next year’s run, I decided that I’ll join (even though I don’t like sports at all). Apparently, it’s life-changing, and as a good friend I should take interest in what my friends like ! ^^
First off, I want to give a huge thank you for @fredwkong for helping me with this story ! I had initially written that story with not enough TF, and he pointed out the places where to put more of it ! So don't hesitate to check out his stuff ! ^^
As for the reason I have been absent, well I've been quite busy in the last few months with two conferences (one I presented in, one I helped prepare), a summer school and all the work that a PhD program entails ^^'
At the same time, I was also busy writing a 12 000+ words story with rather minor TF elements that I would love to publish, but it needs to get some rather heavy editing before that ^^'
And I didn't have the strength to do those edits owing to that the fact that France has been battered this summer with a succession three massive heatwaves. All had days exceeding 40°C, and they included the earliest heat wave and the strongest heatwave ever recorded over here !
We had at most one week to recover between those heatwaves with those works going on in parallel, so needless to say I was extremely tired and had no energy to write horny stories ^^'
But I hoped you all liked this story ! It's rather different as I wanted to play with perspectives on TF, so I wish I was able to still capture the magic of TF stories ^^
Inspired by watching the Truman Show for the first time and the resulting discussions with @fredwkong ! Don't hesitate to check out his stuff !
God, I hate hangovers. They make the little time I have with my real self feel like a chore.
See, I’ve been living in the show "Haven Island" for a few months now, but I didn’t quite understand how it worked behind the scenes. When I applied for a role, I imagined myself playing a random young adult filling out the cafes when a scene would happen there, like we would see in the actual show. Simple, no line, no anything.
But the reality of it was oh so different. There is no true extras, everybody has fleshed out lives and routines that they actually follow, even if only their commute is ever seen on screen. A whole complexity that gives the whole life and drama that keeps Haven Island as the most watched Reality TV show in the world.
Now, you might think that it would be very long and expensive for the writers to give everybody complex lives and routines. And you would be correct. But the writers had a plan which meant that they could give each role minimal thought.
They transformed us into our roles.
This means that, everyday, when 8AM ticks and the show starts, everyone’s personality suddenly shifts into that of the role they incarnate. For my part, I play the role of a middling manager at the bank. Not especially remarkable, but classy, extroverted, and oh so ambitious and arrogant. I’d hate myself if I ever met him.
This means that everyday I go to the bank, get myself a cup of coffee and terrorize my employees for their low productivity at their fictive job. And when I’m not at work, I go to the gym, eat at a restaurant, and in the evening go to drink with the colleagues. Whence the hangover.
Fuck, it’s almost 8AM, I haven’t had time to do stuff the real me likes, like video games and reading mangas ! I didn’t even have time to talk about how they changed our bodies, making me grow a stubble I never could have grown, and giving me muscles, and‒
…
God, I hate hangovers. But the party yesterday was great, and I like booze too much to stop. I guess I’ll just go harder on the coffee.
Ugh, it’s already 8AM and I haven’t started getting ready ? My pomp needs so much time to be set up right, I can’t be wasting it doing who-knows-what ! Time is of the essence !
I put on some expensive cologne, touch up my elegant beard, and then put on my suit. No tie, today, I’m feeling casual today. I want to improve team cohesion, after all.
Moving to Haven Island has been the best choice in my life. Everything is so orderly over here compared to the outside world ! And the career opportunities are phenomenal !
I take my bag and step into my sports car. Like every other day, I drive towards my job, taking the same path as always, an essential but secondary part of the lively town of Haven Island.
I can't believe I just woke up and it's already almost 4 PM. How late was I out last night? Ugh, and I forgot to plug in my phone, too. Not that I want to look at that douchey selfie I put as my lock screen that the producers won't let me change.
There are 6 shifts here on Haven Island, so the viewers at home always have something to watch. Your 16 hour day starts at 8AM, 12PM, 4PM, 8PM, midnight, or 4AM. I thought volunteering for the 4PM-8AM shift would be great, I'd sleep for half my workday and then have all day to do whatever I want. Instead, I got assigned this fuckboy character. I'm a dishwasher at the golf club the whole dinner shift, and then I always go out and party until at least 4AM. I'm lucky if my character doesn't go up the hill on the island with his buddies, crossfaded, and watch the sunrise.
I just wish I had a little more time at home to work on my writing. I mean, there must be some roles here on Haven Island that involve staying home and being a normal guy, right? Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen an introvert on the show…
Shit, the clock tower…
Lmaooo, what the fuck am I doin lounging around with my hair down like this? I only have, like, uhhh, not that much time to get my curls PERFECT before I go to work! And I gotta get out my trackies for the sick party my buddy is having tonight. Good thing my phone is plugged in, maybe I can invite some of my buddies over to smoke a bowl before we go to work tonight. I'm obviously the coolest and hottest guy at work, no one minds if I'm kinda fucked up.
Special thanks to an anonymous follower of mine for sending me this entire, incredible story he wrote set on Haven Island! He asked me to post it here in his stead.
Dammit, I woke up late again. It was already 7:30am. I only had 30 minutes before my Haven Island shift kicked in. I took this job after leaving my office gig at a non-profit, disenchanted with how much catering to the wealthy social justice work entailed. When I signed up for a contract with Haven Island it seemed like a sweet deal. Minor gig on a reality show, 6-month contract, room and board provided. I could basically put away all of the middling paycheck they offered me.
Money had been tight at my old gig, which made it all the more ironic that I had been cast as a 30-year old trust fund douche with Peter Pan syndrome. With a little less than half an hour left before the other me took over, I opened my laptop and pulled up a budgeting spreadsheet I had spent the last week developing. I had big plans for the financial windfall this gig was going to afford me. I tinkered with some conditional formatting and updated tabulations on how quickly I could pay off my student loans from my art history degree at a New England liberal arts college. I was so busy crunching numbers, I didn’t have time to save my work before the clock tower rang out signaling the 8am shift. As the 8th chime rang out my hand was poised to shut the laptop–too late. I felt my shoulders relax, and my legs uncrossed and spread automatically into a wide leisurely sprawl.
Some of the actors on Haven Island opt to have their consciousnesses go into a state of hibernation during their shifts, but the producers included an optional clause in the contract for the more anxiously inclined to remain aware of their body’s actions during their shift. I thought it would be a good way to stay image conscious through the season. I wanted to have a life to go back to off the island after all.
I felt my consciousness shift into passenger position, fully aware of my alter ego’s actions. It was weird, I could even hear this alternative version of me’s internal monologue. It was then that Wes fully took over.
“Damn what the hell am I looking at here,” my voice spoke in an uncanny pitched down version of my normal speaking voice. “A fucking budget? Student loans? How the fuck did this get on my computer?” My body tinkered with the spreadsheet, Wes’ internal monologue cursing, totally inept with Excel. In exasperation he proclaimed “fuck this,” and dragged it to the trash. “God knows I don’t have to worry about money.”
Wes picked up the Rolex on the desk and checked the time.
“Shit, I’m gonna be late for my appointment at the bank, and I’ve got an 11 o’clock tee time too. Can’t keep the boys waiting.”
Wes stood up and headed to the bathroom. He’d really built my body up. I was an avid gym goer even before my time on Haven Island, but Wes lived to lift when he wasn’t on the golf course. In the 12 weeks since I’d arrived he’d managed to pack on 10lbs of mostly muscle onto my frame. Unlike me, he never manscaped and my torso was thick with body hair.
Before I’d joined Haven Island, I had somewhat thinning hair and a short beard. During my first shift, Wes noticed the slight wisp to my hair at the crown and he decided he wasn’t going to be one of those guys that clung to his hair through MPB. A helpless passenger, I watched as he buzzed my hair down to the scalp and then finished it off with a foiler that I had typically reserved for keeping my neckbeard at bay. Wes didn’t care about being bald since he normally wore a cap on the golf course anyway. Since he took over, each day started with a careful scalp trim. He’d also grown my beard in much longer and he maintained it with a careful angularity, building out an extended sculptural jawline.
Showered, groomed, and ready for the day. Wes dressed in a polo tucked into unfashionable chino shorts and chunky sneakers and topped the look off with a white baseball cap. He packed a change of clothes in a gym bag for drinks after his eighteen holes with his friends. He also grabbed a box of high end cigars off of the dresser and carefully placed them in. Zipping the bag up, he grabbed his car keys and a canister of Zyns.
I could feel him open the container and place one in his/our lower lip. The nicotine buzz was instant. I hated smoking, but Wes was a nicotine fiend and since smoking wasn’t allowed on the golf course this was his only option. It had started to become a bit of a problem, his nicotine addiction. Even in my off-hours, I found myself craving a Zyn or a puff on one of his cigars. It was getting harder to resist.
Wes waltzed through our sleek luxury condo and out to the parking lot. He drove a sleek white BMW and treated it like his most prized possession. He drove like a total dickhead, gunning it between traffic lights and weaving through traffic. We got to the bank in half the time it should have taken. Nothing was going to slow him down.
Wes’ appointment was to check on the status of his “trust fund” (actually a bloated budget provided by production). He walked into the bank and met with his banker, a lithe partyboy with a slick pompadour. I had never run into him in his off hours, so I had no sense of who he really was.
The two of them shot the shit. The banker was a weaselly sycophant, I thought. They sat at his desk and talked about fake fund performance numbers. Then the banker asked, “hey do you think you could get me into the golf club sometime? I haven’t played since college and I would love to get back into it.”
I felt Wes scoff internally at the suggestion. Who did this middle manager think he was? Wes was calculating how to blow him off. I could tell he didn’t even remember the guy’s name. He looked down at the nameplate on his desk, which read “Frederick King, Associate Branch Head.”
Wes said: “Listen, Freddie, I’d love to have you join us sometime, bro, but the club is real strict on keeping tee times to members only during the summer. Maybe hit me up after our next quarterly meeting and I’ll see if I can pull some strings.” Wes smirked at what he thought was social cunning.
Frederick looked poised but a bit dejected.
Wes headed out for the golf club, parked and was greeted by the coterie of other trust fund douches that could always be found on the golf course. Our caddy, a college kid named Brett, smiled at us and addressed us with the utmost deference. His smile and neat uniform were uncanny.
“Good afternoon Mr. Marsters,” he said with an overeager grin, “gorgeous weather for a game of golf today!”
“Hey, kid. Sure is. You’re lucky you get to be on the course all day.”
Brett beamed. “It’s a great summer job. I almost don’t want to go back to college in the fall.”
Brett’s shift ended at 4:00 each day and I knew him to be a raucous frat bro in reality. I usually saw him heading out with other frat guys who staffed the club by day to have a kegger. Poor kid probably didn’t realize he’d signed up to be a preppy yes-man all summer.
The golf game proceeded in due course. We blathered about current events, money, and our latest luxury purchases. Wes flirted with the busty blonde drink vendor that sold cocktails to the golfers and doubled over in laughter when one of his buddies held up his 9 iron and pantomimed jerking off behind her.Though I am openly gay off the clock (as is at least one other guy in our group) Wes was deeply closeted. I guess the producers thought this would make for an interesting B storyline for the show.
Eventually, the game ended with Wes coming in a respectable second place and we went to change for cigars and scotch on the club terrace.
The view from the terrace was gorgeous and the weather was pleasant. Buzzing with charisma Wes laughed with his friends and discussed all the typical hyper-masculine topics. From his vantage point on the terrace, Wes could see the side entrance that he knew led the kitchens. Leaning against the brick wall in a sweaty tank top and track bottoms was a fit guy in his early 20s I recognized as one of the dishwashers. I could feel a sense of derision well up in Wes. However, there was also a feeling that surprised me: intense lust. Wes’ friends went to grab another drink from the bar but he didn’t notice. He remained on the terrace.
The dishwasher looked up and met Wes’ glance. There was a glint of recognition in his eye. He ran his hand through his sweaty curls and lifted his shirt to wipe some sweat from his brow. Wes briefly glimpsed the dishwasher’s lower abs as he did this. I felt his cheeks flush and his cock start to get hard at this sight.
The group returned with a fresh round of drinks. One of them handed a scotch on the rocks to Wes. The vacuous discussion of baseball and cars continued.
Wes than heard a voice from behind him say: “You done with that glass bro?” He turned to look and Wes’ eyes met the dishwasher’s.
“Bruh, I said are you done with that glass?”
Flustered, Wes handed it to him.
“Bro, I think you got a little booze on ya” he pointed at a spot just below Wes’ collar and handed him a napkin. As he dabbed at his shirt the dishwasher walked off. Wes was about to discard the napkin when he noticed that the dishwasher had written his Instagram handle on it.
My shift ended around midnight just as Wes was in the middle of undressing. I smelled of cigars and I could taste scotch on my breath. He had found and followed the dishwasher’s Instagram, but hadn’t yet messaged him.
Finally in control again, I opened my laptop to see if I could salvage the budget I had spent so much time on. Then, I got an email notification. It was from the producers. They wanted to upgrade Wes to main cast. They offered a 2 season contract extension, a six figure addition to my compensation, and they were really interested in a storyline between Wes and the dishwasher. I looked at my budget, and I looked at the updated employment agreement for what felt like an eternity and signed. I was going to be Wes for two more seasons…
Thanks again to the anonymous follower who wrote this story! Please feel free to leave encouraging comments for the writer or your own expansions on the world of Haven Island.
Oh my god, thank you so much to the anonymous follower for his amazing story !
I didn't know that @fredwkong's and my story would resonate so much that people would actually want to write follow-ups ! I feel very honored by this ^^
Just like @fredwkong mentioned, please do absolutely feel free to add your own stories to this little alternate world we are constructing, either as stand-alone stories on your blog, replies to this chain or by sending them to @fredwkong or me !
I have a few friends right now who are trying to wean off of using AI for TF role-playing and stories, and it has me thinking.
I get why AI is tempting. It seems like a quick-and-dirty solution for getting personalized TF stories. But any of the AI output I’ve read is just quick, without the dirty. The stories are ALMOST something, but never quite satisfying.
So I want to do an experiment. A bit of a competition with our future robot overlords. I can’t generate five paragraphs in a few seconds like AI can. But I AM a human, with human thoughts and feelings and turn-ons. I want to take on a few AI writing prompts and see what I can turn them into, given a strict time limit.
So, if you an AI dabbler, I’d love if you’d use my asks to send me a short story prompt you’ve submitted to a generative AI bot recently.
I’m going to even the playing field a bit by giving myself a little more time, while still operating in a fast-paced, immediate-turnaround style. I will give myself exactly 20 minutes of no-prep, stream-of-consciousness writing time and see what comes out.
I cant promise it’ll actually be any good. And I definitely can’t promise I’ll use all the prompts, or even that many of them. But my hope is to do at least one today. If I like writing it, and especially if YOU like reading it, hopefully I can do a few more in the coming weeks.
Reblogging it for the people at the back who are somehow subscribed to me and not to @salmonskinrolltf !
Don't hesitate to sent prompts to him and read the stories that have already come out so far ! ^^
Unfortunately I don't have any prompt to give personally ‒ writing the story myself is more entertaining ‒ but I do have a lot of experience with AI roleplay, and I want to take this opportunity to say a few words about that ^^
For people who have only roleplayed with an AI, know from my experience that RP with a real human is always significantly better than with an AI ‒ the person in front of you is interested in TF and has a working memory ! Technology !
However, the reason I tend towards AI RP still is because we as a community do not have any structure in place to help foster connections between roleplayers wannabe, and I think I'm not the only one ^^'
Because it's not for a lack of want ! I'm pretty sure a significant part of the community is interested in TF RP, since attempts have already been made to do just that on some writer-specific Discord servers or the now-defunct Transformation Tumblr community.
These solutions are for sure not perfect, as someone with quite strong social anxiety I've been way too afraid to try my luck with those. However, I think that people in the community (who are interested in RP) should at least try looking around the community before defaulting to AI RP. Look especially for people who reblog or like stories and hot guys that match your tastes, this way you can nerd out (or jock out ? x)) over common kinks ^^
AI RP is the easy solution, but I hope that you all will consider giving real humans a shot ! If you manage to find connection, I can assure you that it is 100% worth it (especially in such a dehumanized world as the one we're in) ^^
Hey, not sure if you saw, but tumblr is implementing age verification.... since youre one of my fave authors here and no way Im giving my ID to tumblr, of all places, do you by chance post anywhere else?
I didn't see it ‒ even though it doesn't exactly surprise me. Chances are if it does come to pass I'll have to stop posting as well ^^'
For the moment I have duplicates of all my main stories on Gay Spiral Stories (I think maybe the last one wasn't published on there but I'm not sure). However none of them have pictures, and none of my shorts are featured over there for story size restrictions.
I'm open to suggestions for good alternative places to post, unfortunately internet is getting closed down more and more. I know that this is a solution some have come to adopt, but I feel a personal website kind of arrangement wouldn't be satisfactory. It would very much feel like me shouting stories in the void, plus I wouldn't be able to get inspiration from all the great human-made stories that are featured over here ^^'
But if we have to wait before a good alternative comes up, do rest assured that I keep all my stories safe in a personal document, so they won't disappear to eternity ^^
Okay quick additional information because I just saw the post talking about that.
Since it only concerns the UK and Brazil (for now), I will be able to continue posting for the foreseeable future.
It does not remove my concerns, because not only will the good readers from the UK and Brazil not be able to read my stories, but I know similar legislation is coming over here in the EU.
But for now my blog is safe (and mirrored on Gay Spiral Stories !) ^^'
Hey, not sure if you saw, but tumblr is implementing age verification.... since youre one of my fave authors here and no way Im giving my ID to tumblr, of all places, do you by chance post anywhere else?
I didn't see it ‒ even though it doesn't exactly surprise me. Chances are if it does come to pass I'll have to stop posting as well ^^'
For the moment I have duplicates of all my main stories on Gay Spiral Stories (I think maybe the last one wasn't published on there but I'm not sure). However none of them have pictures, and none of my shorts are featured over there for story size restrictions.
I'm open to suggestions for good alternative places to post, unfortunately internet is getting closed down more and more. I know that this is a solution some have come to adopt, but I feel a personal website kind of arrangement wouldn't be satisfactory. It would very much feel like me shouting stories in the void, plus I wouldn't be able to get inspiration from all the great human-made stories that are featured over here ^^'
But if we have to wait before a good alternative comes up, do rest assured that I keep all my stories safe in a personal document, so they won't disappear to eternity ^^
A bit of a dumb story, I haven't been very inspired but I'm trying to not funnel my energy into unsatisfying AI RP. Hope you like it ^^'
"Hey, boy. Would love to know more about you. 1m80, 72kg, very masc, shaved head, hairy bod."
And an accompanying picture showing a fitting-shaped man. The only apparent things in his look that he did not mention are the short beard, the sunglasses and the leather get-up ‒ though one can assume he does not wear that at all time.
What a DM to receive right when I contemplate going to bed. Who the hell present themselves with physical stats right off the bat to one who is basically a complete stranger ?
Especially someone who is as built and attractive to a huge portion of submissive-inclined gays ? In which world would someone like that have to send his profile around to complete strangers outside a dating app ?
It is laughable. The catfishing is so obvious, yet this is not a dating app ! And to add insult to injury, he ticks off all my turn-offs ! The nerves of some…
But then an idea crosses my mind.
I am very horny after that climbing session, and I haven’t had the opportunity to expunge it from my system yet.
So… why not entertain him ?
"Hey, woow, such an attractive guy talking to me is that real ???"
I laugh.
"Yes, boy… you like people like me, right ? ^^
‒ Absolutely !!! I looooove clean-shaven people like you !!!"
I imagine his beard receding down under his skin, soon enough all the pores they grew out of close back up, safe for a few ones around his mouth that are religiously shaved.
I think about him putting his hand on his face, and instead of finding his nice beard ‒ or rather neckbeard ‒ he finds clear skin and is shocked… but decides to roll with it.
"Hahah, I’m glad, boy ! That pic I sent was quite old, I still had my beard, but I’m glad you have a good eye ;P
‒ I loooove guys like you, so I knew you’d be clean-shaven, now ! You all are sooo good at keeping track of the trends !
‒ Indeed ! Well, boy, what do you like else on me ?
‒ I love your body hair ! Especially how it is placed only on hot locations, like the treasure trail, the pubes and the armpits ^^"
I hope by now he’s getting afraid, and starting to reconsider bothering me with a catfish as he sees his wild body hair ‒ likely his only "hot attribute", even if fully abandonned ‒ receding down.
Nothing remains on his arms, nothing remains on his legs, only a big bush in his pubes and armpits, as well as a tasty treasure trail. Yummy.
"Yeah"
I smile. He is getting second thoughts ! But don’t worry, random guy, it’s only the beginning !
"Oh and I loooove your build ! I like people with an athletic swimmer’s build, who go to the gym regularly but don’t try to bulk up ! Don’t get me wrong, bulk builds are hot… but toned is where it’s at !"
I smile as I imagine his body deflating, his muscles ‒ or rather belly ‒ falling closer to the bones and firming up. I’d love to see his shoulders pop out with his pecs as abs carve themselves around his navel and his biceps and triceps swell a bit.
God, I should be with him watching him freak the fuck out and being half grateful half pleading for everything to stop ! I do not usually have that dominant streak to me, but I like having fun from time to time…
"Dude what are you doing to me !"
Ah, "dude". I’m sure he’s noticing his change of speech patterns just as he sent that message. A nice side-effect.
"what the hell bro i don’t talk like that !" He continues, before again sending another message. "fckin hell bruh, i didnt mean to write it lik that man !"
Hah, his writing quality is degrading so fast ! I’m pretty sure he’s soon going to be dropping some Gen Z slang to sound cool !
And I’m not even doing anything to encourage that, I guess the jockish affirmations have been enough for him to transform himself ! I don’t know how old he was, but I’m sure by the end of it he’ll be around my age, heheheh !
"Nothing ! I’m just admiring you ! :P" I troll him before going for the killing blow. "I especially love your hair, I love that cap hairstyle, it’s so popular on Tiktok !!!!"
He doesn’t answer immediately, I assume as his scalp first starts itching, and then tufts of blonde hair sprout in a fluffy mess. I prefer imagining it coming out from the bald cranium of the guy whose picture he sent me, but I must admit it likely filled up his heavily receding hairline ‒ menkind’s worst curse by far.
The hair however quickly starts behaving itself as the strands arrange one another towards the front, where they hang above his eyes, when suddenly… WOOSH ! The hair flies upwards to create a straight band of fluffy mess, like the stiff bill of a baseball cap.
The perfect cringy haircut, fit for a cringy guy who tried to catfish me and somehow ended up looking like what I assume is a hottie.
"bro wth did u do i look so fckn good no cap" Fuck that’s too hot ! "dude can u make me write normally tho its bad for my rizz fr"
Hilarious ! Unfortunately I can’t do anything for him, it’s what I wanted ! But let me just make a few final adjustments…
"Don’t worry, you might not like it but it flatters the smart guys and the nice guys you’re so into ! You love how they’re smarter than you, and they love to get the attention of a hot guy like you !"
I can feel the neurons pouring out of his brain as I wait for his answer. This way, he can reverse catfish !
"fck dude ur so smart ! like bruh im kinda dumb but ur like at another level broski !
‒ Haha thanks ! By the way, do you have another pic ? I don’t want you to be catfishing me !
‒ sure !"
He turned out perfect. God I’ve outdone myself, his hair is poking out just right in front of the backwards cap that likely materialized on his head !
I didn’t expect the rest of his stuff to shift accordingly. However, I’m fully taken by the chain that wrapped around his neck and the fancy iPhone he took this picture with. I guess, now, he’s become my type !
"Wow you look sooooo hot !" This time I’m not even sarcastic.
‒ thx bro ! u look good too !" I didn’t send him my pic. "wanna swing by mine and suck my dick ?"
Oh, I think there’s been a misunderstanding.
"Uh… I’m actually a top… what do you feel about sucking my dick ?
‒ fck dude id love that !"
Hey, just a heads up about asks due to me receiving one who wasn't sure of what the best practices are for me !
I always prefer answering asks sent using an account, as answering anonymous asks kinda feels like talking to a wall, and I never know if the person who asked it liked it afterwards ^^'
Besides, if you ask with your real account, I can also get a look at the kinds of stuff you like to hopefully make the experience better for you as a reader ^^
This does not mean I won't answer anonymous asks ‒ I do, and I know from first-hand experience what it is to be too shy to send asks with your account ‒ but they're not my priority.
Also, just so that you don't get any wrong expectations, I can't guarantee an answer to all asks. I'm doing this on my time off with no remuneration, and I do have a whole PhD to do on the side ^^'
So don't panic if you don't get any answer, I'm sorry I can't get to you, but maybe another one of your asks will inspire me more ! ^^'
Hopefully this clears stuff up, and I hope to see you all in my inbox ! x)
A special story for Valentine's day. Big thanks to @fredwkong and @salmonskinrolltf for the support in that hard writing process !
TW : Transphobia, Biphobia
I sigh. How good is love if it only leaves your heart empty ?
I look out to Benjamin on the other side of the cafeteria, laughing with his friends. Not only is he extremely handsome with his boy-next-door looks, nice muscles and cut jawline, but he’s also not one of those abusive and misogynistic jocks.
In fact, he is the nicest guy I’ve ever got to meet. We have never formally met, but each time we run into one another he does one of those tiny acts that show that someone is considerate ‒ holding the door for me, letting me leave the tram before him, and smiling warmly when I asked him if it was okay to sit next to him because all other seats were taken.
He has stolen my heart, and yet he doesn’t know he possesses it.
I suddenly hear the thud of a tray hitting the table. I look at where it came from, and see Marjorie. Again.
"Heyy Sabrina !" She calls me using a deliberately feminine ‒ and mocking ‒ tone. "How are you doing, girlie ?
‒ I’m not called that." I look away and pull my beanie down, my tone as deep as my throat lets me, hoping not to dignify her intrusion. "How many times am I going to have to tell you that.
‒ Don’t say that, Sabrina is such a pretty name ! If I have a daughter, I’ll name her that way for sure !" I can hear her fake smile.
Marjorie… doesn’t believe I’m a man. Granted I’m still early in my transition ‒ the hoops you have to go through to get testosterone are long and tiring ‒ but when you have patiently explained how it works ten times, it’s not ignorance it’s willful non-compliance.
Yet she just sticks to me, believing I’m her "bestie" or something. We have managed the exploit of choosing all the same classes this semester ‒ which is a feat in impersonal university ‒ but it’s not a sufficient reason to be friends.
"What are you looking at ?" She asks, mouth close to my ear, sending goosebumps through my body. "Oooh, you’re looking at the boys ! That’s my girl !
‒ Can you not ?
‒ Oh, and look in the middle that brunette guy, it’s Benjamin Poulain ! He’s so hot, isn’t he ? And I heard he’s super nice too !" She giggles, ignoring my complaints yet again. "Like, I think I want to ask him out !"
My eye twitches as she says that. I know Benjamin is out of my league, but I always nourished the faint hope that his little attentions were because he noticed me. However, Marjorie is by far the prettiest woman on campus. The kind of women whose advances a sensible man (who is attracted to women, unlike me) would never dare to deny.
Because of that, everyone knows not to get in her way when she has a new subject for her love. She crushes the competition so thoroughly one could say she has no real rival in love.
This leaves me in that very place, just waiting to cross her ire.
"Go for it, what can I say…" I can’t help but sound defeated. "You won’t have any difficulty convincing him…
‒ But I want him to love me and only me !" She whines back, all self-important. "He needs to be obsessed and to be the one to declare his love !"
I can see her face faintly flush. Seeing how precise a scenario she is dredging up, one might even say that this is her kink.
"Oh my gosh ! Sabrina ! Look !" She screams to my ear. "They’re cominggg !"
We are on the way to dropping off plates so it’s not really a surprise, but Marjorie cannot help but be dramatic at every step of the way. It’s so tiring.
When the guys come next to us, I see from one corner of my eye Marjorie doing the puppy eyes to Benjamin, and on the other Benjamin looking at our table.
I can already see the scenario unfolding from now. Benjamin getting Marjorie’s number. Them chatting and Benjamin growing to love her. They date for a while, until Marjorie dumps him when he inevitably cheats ‒ her boyfriends somehow always do that. And then when it comes my turn to ask for his hand, he has already been spoiled by Her greatness and wants no man ‒ or rather broken girl with how feminine I still look ‒ by his side.
And as I see him going away with another big-busted girl, I’ll lie there, heart broken to smithereens, Marjorie mocking me for ever daring to think I had a chance with a straight guy like him.
Benjamin faintly smiles ‒ a polite smile ‒ yet it seems he isn’t really focused on Marjorie. She seems to have noticed that, because I see a flash of irritation on her face before she takes the initiative.
"Heyy, handsome !" She uses her trademark catty voice. "Had a good meal ?
‒ Oh, hey you two !" Benjamin’s voice is, on the other hand, quite deep yet soft. "Had a good one, was about to go back to class ! I hope you two have a good meal !"
For some reason Benjamin’s look seems focused on me. Maybe it is because I wear very boyish black clothes and a chain instead of feminine white airy clothes and jewel pendants ? Though he seems to be insisting on including me in this discussion, which Marjorie is not.
"Thank you !" She licks her lips. "I hope we’ll see again soon ! You seem like a great guy !
‒ Hahah, yeah !" He is still looking at me. "Well we do have English class together, so we’ll see again there !
‒ Oh yeah, that’s right ! We could study together, that would be great !"
He is making me uncomfortable with how focused he is on me. I make eye contact, and we both look away in embarrassment (both ?).
"We’ll see. See you around !"
And on that he goes away. I focus back fully on my meal, hoping to calm down my crush hormones. I don’t want Marjorie to notice, I don’t want her to harass me even more than she already is…
"That went well ! I’m sure that he’ll ask me out soon !" She sounds excited. "What do you think, Sabrina, I have my chances ?
‒ I dunno."
On that, I finish my dessert and immediately stand back up.
"Oh, you’re going away so soon ? I’ve barely even started eating !
‒ I have stuff to do.
‒ Okay, see you later, Sabrina !"
The rest of the day goes normally. I get harassed even more by Marjorie who now keeps on talking to me about Benjamin, but otherwise nothing seems to indicate that she discovered that I am her rival.
I am safe for now… even if this means I have to mourn my crush on him. He is so lovely, and such boyfriend material, but I was a fool to ever think he’d look down to me from his high pedestal.
As usual, come the evening, I go to the gym.
I have been going there since the start of the year, as this gym is cheap for students, and it’s a good way for me to work on my muscles and maybe come across as a little bit more masculine before T comes.
I’m now kinda familiar with the different machines, so even though I’m still unknown to all the other gymgoers, I can easily mount a coherent workout.
But as I approach the free weights, I suddenly hear a very familiar voice.
"Hello, Sabrina. I didn’t think I’d find you here of all places, but it’s quite… appropriate."
I turn around, and to my absolute surprise, I see none other than Marjorie.
"What the hell !" I shout. "Are you going to ever leave me alone ?
‒ No, not if you wrong me."
Her look is one of anger coupled with sadism, though… there is something more to it. I don’t know how to describe it, but it’s like there is a heavy atmosphere that she is projecting around her ?
"Marjorie, how the hell can I wrong you when you fucking disrespect me every fucking day !" I shout back.
‒ How dare you say that when you’re trying to steal my boyfriend ?"
As she says that, the lights above turn of for just a second. Was she always this terrifying ? And how did she even discover I was into Benjamin ?
"What ? No, I wasn’t ! I just like him, but I know I have no chance !
‒ Well, I’ll make sure that you have no chance !"
She starts chanting some weird words, and then a dark mass juts out from her torso, flying straight to me, making me recoil from the impact.
What’s happening !? That’s not normal ! That’s not natural ! Is it… fucking magic !? …
"I’ve never understood your delusions about being a man. You’re such a beautiful girl, why would you every want to ruin yourself by becoming a man ?" She starts with snide remarks as I feel weird all over my body. "But now that you’ve decided to steal Benjamin from me, you’ll get what you deserve for being a slutty bitch !"
Just as she says that, the tingles gather in my groin, becoming more and more intense. I feel my muscle tense as they seem to be… pushing ? something out, just like when you’re taking a pee.
But it’s not pee… As it gets more and more intense, I start crying in pain, but I feel things shifting in my jogging pants. My clitoris seems to be… rubbing on my pants ?
In my pain, I can’t quite check it out, but I put my hand on it, and feel a bulge growing. Fuck, what, no, my biggest dream is happening right now ? I’m… growing a dick ?
Yes, I feel my vagina closing, as the lips of my pussy biggen, becoming real testicles ‒ and a really big and manly pair ! In fact, my whole new penis seems to be really big and weighty in my pants… am I such a man that I’m getting the biggest ? (Or is it just that I have no point of reference ?)
"Oh, wow…" I could only comment in my excitation.
‒ Yes, have fear ! Now that your penis is in, there’s no going back, even if I stop the spell nowyou’re still going to get ruined !" She gloats. "You are going to become a man who’s obsessed with his dick like all other men ! You will regret ever trying to steal Benjamin from me !"
The tingles move out from my crotch in to my hips, as I feel them getting firmer and narrower. In fact, the tingles also extend to my trunk which expands, giving me a much more square form.
The tingles take more and more space, and everywhere they go, it’s as it as I’m out of breath : my muscles contract automatically, getting firmer and most of all bigger.
I can feel a six-pack carving as my thighs get bigger. Running my hands against them I can feel the manly power emanating from them.
God, I knew going to the gym was the right choice ! though I didn’t expect to reap the benefits so soon !
"And now, my favorite part, losing those lustful breasts that steal my dear Benjamin’s gaze !"
Indeed, the tingles move upwards to my torso, where I can feel my breasts expand and flatten into big, bulging pecs. Manly pecs.
As if to accommodate them, the tingle spread to my shoulders, which crack outwards, making my whole body become suddenly a lot larger. Fuck, I feel the sheer power emanating from me, I didn’t want to become a jock… but now I’ll never regret it.
"Great, now that you are this big, there’s no way for you to go back to a pretty girl ! You’ll be permanently disfigured into this hulk of a man, and Benjamin will never fall in love with you !"
As the tingles move out from my torso down my arms and legs, I feel the feel a strong sense of loss wash over me. I may be finally getting my well-deserved masculinity, but it is to the cost of forever being repulsive to Benjamin…
I feel my biceps and triceps swell outwards, gaining a size I didn’t know possible on a human ‒ much less myself. Similarly, my calves grow big, down to the feet who explode in size to manly palms.
"Got one last thing to tell me before you’ve fully lost your womanhood ?" Marjorie asks, sadistically grinning.
‒ Even if it means losing Benjamin… you’ve given me the best gift I could ask for." I smile, weakly. My voice is still as high as before, but with all the size I have since accumulated, it has lower resonances. "So thank you, I hope you will be good to him, he is too nice to be mistreated."
I cannot help but put in a bit of regret in my voice, which seems to touch Marjorie as she looks away. Her smile seems less revengeful, more… Machiavellian ? I don’t really know how to describe this.
"I… I guess you don’t deserve to have your mind changed, then… You’re… nicer than I thought… I won’t make you into a dumb asshole like the others."
Others ?
Fuck, the tingles are moving up to my neck, which is becoming girthier and girthier… I guess it might be dwarfing that giant chain I was wearing ?
I feel also my vocal tract widening, and an Adam’s apple growing. In fact, the groans I couldn’t help but utter are becoming lower and lower…
Then it’s the time for the rest of my face. My jaw becomes square and defined, though keeps some of its pudginess, creating a kind of baby-face. My hair grows out from my beanie, creating short blonde curls that pop out of all sides.
The tingle spread to my brain, but as promised, it is rather short and painless, and I don’t really feel any effect for it.
"Look behind you, Sabrina… or I guess now Sam ?
‒ Sam’s not my name…" I am happily surprised by my baritone voice. "But I guess I can adopt it."
I look behind and see myself in the mirror. My real self.
Fuck I look so good, so hot ! This… makes tears start going out. It’s all my dreams come true ! And all of that because of a silly love rivalry ? It’s such a… random thing to happen, I can’t even believe it !
"So…" I start. "Now do you believe that I’m a man ?
‒ Well… deep inside there’s still a beautiful woman that is trapped inside this brutish body…
‒ Fuck off, Marjorie ! How can you still be transphobic when you’ve literally transformed me into a man ?
‒ I…
‒ I’ve tried, Marjorie, tried to explain to you who I was, tried to be patient, tried to be understanding, but you’ve never been understanding back ! You’ve been harassing me ever since, trying to put me down, and when you notice I like the same guy as you, you try to put me down even harder ? Even though by chance this was what I wanted, I still cannot applaud your intentions at all !
‒ You’re being unreasonable ! You were sick in the mind thinking that you were like one of those brutish men ! I’m sure you’re happy today because you’re hot, but two weeks later you’ll be crawling to me, desperate to have your womanly charm so you can steal Benjamin from my lap !
‒ You’re an absolute asshole, Marjorie. I hate you.
‒ Huh ? W-Well, I… Of course ! B-but‒
‒ Hey, what’s going on here ?"
Suddenly, the voice of another man cuts through. We both turn towards its origin. Benjamin. He’s here.
Fuck. I didn’t know he went to this gym. Nor that he looked so good with a tank top like that.
"Oh heyyy, Benjamin ! You came !" Marjorie suddenly switches voices, suddenly sounding overjoyed, no anger left. "I’m like so glad, you’ll be able to teach me how to use those machines !"
Marjorie is being, of course, disingenuous. I know from her unwanted rants that she regularly does cardio to keep her body nice and lean.
"Yeah, yeah… You said… Sabrina, right ? Yeah, that she’d be here." Benjamin dismisses.
‒ Oh yeah, I did…" She chuckles awkwardly. "But clearly she stood me up, because I don’t see her anywhere ! This means that I’ll be able to have your undivided attention, hihihi !
‒ Ah, that’s unfortunate…" He scratches the base of his neck, showing off his armpits at the same time, awakening my dick ‒ fuck, is that why men tend to be so hormonal ? "And you were talking with whom ?"
He looks at me, but his eyes open wider, as if impressed… As he goggles at me, I can see his cheeks faintly blush… What ?
"Oh, that’s Sam ! Another… friend, you know ?" She smiles, getting a bit of that Machiavellian quality back. "I just happened to cross his path !
‒ Fuck, he’s hot…" I hear him whisper.
Wait, what ?
Marjorie cannot believe her ears either, as I see her ever so slightly shifting her posture so as to make her breasts more prominent.
"Yeah, but he was on his way out, wasn’t he ?" She insists, however I’m done with playing at her game.
‒ No I wasn’t. In fact, I just came here, Marjorie, and I was about to work on weights.
‒ Oh, you’re doing weights ? You want a spotter ?" Softly asks Benjamin.
‒ Uh…" My face flushes red as well. "Yeah, that’d be great !"
Benjamin walks towards me as I take place on the bench. Oh my god my dream is coming true ! Benjamin… likes me ?
"Benjamin…" I can hear Marjorie fuming from behind. Oh, no. "Are you fucking kidding me ? I’ve done everything, even changing Sabrina into a fucking man so that you could notice me. And instead you turn out to be a gay ?
‒ W-What ?" Benjamin’s voice sounds fully weirded out. Granted I was too at that point. "Excuse me ? I don’t owe you anything ? And I’m bi, not gay ?
‒ You don’t look like a gay ! You tricked me !" She fully does not listen. Like with me. "Gays are supposed to be feminine, lithe and quippy, not masculine, ripped and bro-y ! I hate being tricked, I hate when my feelings get trampled and played with, you asshole ! fuckboy ! douchebag !"
We are both shocked by this sudden display of violence. Although I already knew that she was the type to be extremely judgmental and self-important, the sheer turn-around she had when Benjamin didn’t fit her narrow idea is still stunning.
I guess this is why her boyfriends never last long ? Because they turn out to be complex human beings and she gets freaked out ? That’s… a terrifying thought. Even more that of what happens when she wants to get her revenge on them…
"Hey, uh, Marjorie. That’s fully out of line. I’m sorry I gave you a wrong impression, but you are being bigoted, here. Now, either say sorry or leave."
God, I love a man who can protect me like that. I knew I had made the right choice choosing him as the target of my love.
But this is not enough to dissuade her. Immediately after he finishes those words, Marjorie starts again muttering those strange words, the atmosphere suddenly becoming very heavy, the lights flickering.
Fuck, no, she’s going to use magic ! I stand back up as fast as possible and try to run towards her and stop her.
"No, Marjorie, don’t do that !" I shout.
I’m too late.
Another ball of dark energy comes out of her and lands on Benjamin.
The effect is almost immediate. I see him recoiling from the impact, is face torn into a grimace as he is seemingly suffering.
I immediately go by his side to see how he is, but I can already see the magic operating, as my gaze lowers and lowers.
"Benjamin, h-how are you feeling ?
‒ N-Not good… This fucking hurts… You… you’re taller ?
‒ No, you are becoming shorter. It’s Marjorie, she has magic, she’s turned me into… that." I gesture at myself.
‒ What ? I… ugh ! Fuck, no, my muscles !"
Indeed, his muscles seem somehow to be melting. I try pinching his biceps, but it feels like I’m holding a deflating balloon. His shoulders seem like they’re narrowing, as if unlike mine who detached from my torso, his were reattaching. His pecs are flattening into a child-like torso, his abs disappearing into lithe but straight belly and his legs deflating into twigs…
I see from his hurting face that he is actively panicking, not understanding what’s happening to him. And unlike him, he’s not having his biggest wish coming true.
So I can only hug him.
"I’m sorry, Benjamin… I didn’t want you to end up like that ! B-But… don’t worry, you’ll be able to rebuild ! I’ll help you, I swear !"
He doesn’t answer me, but I feel his arms snaking around me. His eyes become moist, and so do mine, as I see his face rearrange into a softer form. His jaws are becoming rounder, his lips plumper, his skin clears up as if it was regularly taken care of, and his features rearrange and are being tweaked into cuter, smaller forms of themselves.
His stubble fully disappears, and I see the top of his hair exploding into a mess of curls, voluminous and feathery. His shaved sides take a bit more time but quickly catch up, worming their way out of his head and reaching a similar length to the top.
Some of those new lengthy brown curls enter my mouth and eyes, making me cough. When I can reopen my eyes, he… he looks… almost nothing like his old self.
He looks all… feminine… and lithe, and like the kind of people who would be quippy. Not masculine, ripped and bro-y like he was. Just what Marjorie wanted.
Yet there is still a sense that this is the same person. His features are still reminiscent of his old self in a way he could pass for his own brother.
We continue hugging a while as a few minor features, like his ass gaining in size, his feet becoming smaller and his already limited pelt of body hair falling down to nothingness.
"I… I think it’s finished…" Says Benjamin, his voice higher than before. "I… I’m ugly, right ?"
I break the hug and size him up. My new dick chubs up at the sight of his new cute body, his tank top now huge hanging off his shoulders (fuck why is the dick so inappropriate !).
"No. Not at all." I try to reassure him, though the way his lips shake show he is close to crying. "It might not be what you wanted before, but I can assure you that you look extremely good."
I direct him to the mirrors behind him, but he doesn’t say anything. He just approaches them, at puts his hand on it. At least he isn’t crying ? That’s a good thing ?
"So… what are you thinking ?
‒ It’s…" He sighs. "Not bad.
‒ Yeah, I guess you worked really hard for… that previous body ?
‒ Hm." He nods. "I should hate that small body. But somehow… I don’t ?
‒ You don’t ?
‒ Yeah… it’s like… I don’t know, like I both hate and love this ? As if I was two people at the same time, the hunk from before and the twink from now ? If that makes sense…
‒ I… think I get it."
I approach him from behind. God, I tower over him. And he blushes at this.
"Could you… flex for me ?"
I smile and just do that. He smiles back, as he’s getting redder and redder. Oh my god this is not a dream ??
"Sam ? Isn’t it ? Or is it… Sabrina ?
‒ Hahah, you understood. Well, in fact, no, Sabrina is my deadname, but Marjorie kept on insisting I be called that. She… didn’t believe I was a man.
‒ Oh my god." He puts his hands on his mouth. Gosh is he cute. "That’s why I got confusing signals about you !
‒ Yeah… I’m trans…
‒ And… she transformed you into a man ?
‒ She is not really logical. But yeah, in my case, she accidentally answered my wishes. I’m… sorry for you.
‒ So what’s your actual name ?
‒ Well, I was trying out a name, but… I guess I should honor my second mother by continuing to call myself Sam ? Hahahah."
He laughs with me. It’s kind of a sad thing to be laughing about, but we’rereallyin need of a laugh, right now.
"I don’t think she needs to be honored, Sam !
‒ But she’s right, that name does suit me !
‒ Speaking of, where is she ? I want an explanation, after all…"
We look around, but there is no trace of her. What a coward.
… just like me. If I was even a bit more assertive, I’d have saved Benjamin from this whole ordeal.
It was all because of me. And now that I know what happened to him as a result… I think I’d trade my perfect masculinity so that he becomes himself again. He doesn’t deserve this suffering.
This is why from now on, I won’t be a coward.
"Benjamin…" I start, blushing.
‒ Yes, Sam ?
‒ I wanted to ask… Well… uh…" I take a breath. "I’ve- I’ve had a bit of a crush on you for a long time… A-And it seems like you kinda like me… Would you… would you want to date me ?"
I look away, not daring to look in his eyes as I await the worst. After all, he’s just suffered through the biggest change of his life, he has no time nor mental space to start dating one who is basically a dignified stranger…
But I said I wasn’t going to continue being a coward. And even if he refuses, I will be strong, because I don’t want people to suffer because of me !
"Sam… You know, I’ve noticed you since the first week of class, in English class. I was fascinated by those… contradictory signals you were sending, but as I continued seeing you in my daily life, I noticed more and more that you were actually a fantastic person. Not only were you cute, but you were always so patient, and so considerate. Every time I helped you, you would return the favor, even if only by a small ‘thank you’.
« I was waiting for an opportunity to talk to you, but I… I was too much of a coward to go out of my friend group and try to talk to you. And in fact… even if it meant that I was… violated in this way, if it meant being able to meet you ‒ and moreover the real, actual you ‒ I’d do it again."
It is my turn to start crying.
"All of that to say… yes, I want to date you !"
I hug him.
In fact, I hug him so strong that I lift him up and turn around, making his legs fly around the gym. Thankfully, we were far enough from any machine that I didn’t accidentally hit them.
"I can’t believe it ! I’m so happy ! It’s like I’ve ascended to the Nirvana or something, it’s not possible !
‒ Hahah, yeah, I get you ! Do you… want to start today ? There’s a cafe right next to the gym that is pretty cool !
‒ Oh yeah, sure ! Though with your clothes… I guess you can borrow mine ?
‒ And you mine, heh !"
And so we go to the locker room. He gives me clothes, I give him some, but as I’m starting to change into is much less stretched clothes, I suddenly hear him.
"Sam… I think… I’ve lost my dick…"
The cold February air hits me as I leave my flat, all dressed up formally. It’s our first anniversary, so I wanted to celebrate it right and invite Benjamin to the opera, but I didn’t exactly anticipate how late it would be.
I go to the tram stop where we decided to meet up, and after a few trains I finally see him, all cute dressed up in his favorite leather jacked (that he stole from me !).
"Sammy ! You’re here ! Oh my god the trams were so full tonight, I had to let three of them pass !
‒ That’s what you get for living right after the high-traffic station !
‒ But that’s the only place cheap enough for me to live in…"
I ruffle his hair as we start walking towards the opera. We continue talking about random stuff, until, naturally, the topic of what happened last year comes up.
"You’re not too angry over having gotten a vagina ?
‒ Nah, I like it. It really puts into perspective how things felt on the other side… and it makes me understand what you felt before !
‒ Be glad you’re not getting periods, they’re absolute hell.
‒ Don’t worry, I measure my luck." He opens his eyes more as if to stress that point. "But now you don’t have to worry about it !
‒ Oh yeah, it was magical. Plus it gave me the courage to ask you out !
‒ I’m so glad you did, I don’t think I would have had it !"
He hugs me, and I hug back. Fuck, I love h‒
Wait. I remember. I should be not a coward.
"I love you, Benjamin.
‒ Awww… I love you too, Sam ! I’m glad we met, you’ve been the best thing to happen in my life…
‒ You too, you too…"
And so, we went inside the opera, having a mountain of fun for our first anniversary. First out of many.
It was very hard to write, and was also way too ambitious to be released on time for Valentine's day. So I hope everybody (who could) had a good time with their significant other ^^
I also hope you've been enjoying the recent stream of captions (with one full story in-between), it's been a lot of fun to try things out without any expectations of length ^^
Unfortunately, I currently don't have any caption in stock, so you might see a bit of a pause until I next post ‒ I don't know how my inspiration will end up looking like, I do have tons of stuff to do right now ^^'
So yeah, I'm happy that you read that story till the end, and I'll bid you a good tf ! ^^
I just wanted to take the time and thank you for your stories, they make me yearn for a life I never had. Growing up I always wanted to perm my hair, make it really curly and bouncy. Something about that always made me envious. I knew guys in my middle school class who clearly got perms and then weeks later would show up with highlights or full on bleached or dyed blonde to fit some skater or surfer boy aesthetic. It was really cute, I wanted to do it so bad but my parents would definitely not have been okay with it. Even my childhood friend permed his hair at a young age and adopted a skater aesthetic in middle and high school. I was so jealous of him. I was such a rules follower, bland white kid and never expressed myself or rebelled in school. Once again, thank you and keep up the spectacular work and for your time.
Heheh, thank you so much !
Now, I see you eyeing that puffer jacket I have next to me. I just bought it in this mall at a fair price, but if you let me presume what you are thinking... I’d say that you are longing for it. However, I know your type, you know you’d never be caught dead in public wearing one of those, no matter how tempting it may be.
I don’t blame you ! I may have bought some gear myself, but it stays locked up in the stash, not to be let out except when I know that no one is going to see me. I, too, am deathly afraid of the other’s gaze judging me for my kinks.
But let me tell you. You’re not getting the same luxury.
Don’t look at me with that shocked expression. Don’t pretend like you have a job to do. Don’t pretend that you don’t want friends and family to get shocked by that new getup. I am the one who gets to worry about things like that. You don’t.
Oh, and don’t bother trying to escape. You’ll find that a few people over here are ready to block your path ‒ don’t you see their shiny puffer jackets ? You will be wearing that wonderful piece of clothing in public whether you like it or not.
Hah, you noticed ? How one of those brutes has just restrained you from behind ? Don’t bother arguing with him, he’s way too dumb to understand ‒ and even if he wasn’t, he would be gleeful at the idea of giving a dweeb like you one of those special puffer jackets.
Now, be nice, I’ll put on the first sleeve. You notice how the feel of the plastic ruffles on your skin, how heavy the jacket feels, how cumbersome it is…
And it’s not just the jacket, below it your muscles are growing into a lean but athletic build, getting rid of any body hair that might distract from the glory of your muscles.
I see at your face that you are confused ‒ don’t worry, you’ll get used to that. But maybe when the puffer jacket hits your back and grows your pecs, your neck scratching against the fake fur, you understand : your future is not that of a dweeb. Not anymore.
You will want to scratch your hair with the hand now enclosed in the puffer jacket ‒ making the sleeve run against the rest of the jacket, creating that high-pitched sound that you won’t get sick of. But when you reach your hair, you’ll find that it is not like usual.
For some reason, it is shifting into a short cut, that tapers aggressively into a stubble below. You have never worn anything like that. You’ve always found those kinds of styles ridiculous and show-off-y, but like it or not, it’s now your style, and you’ll find yourself go back to the barber’s every two weeks to touch it up.
And as you feel your hair on top shift, you know exactly why you need to go back regularly. Indeed, your hair is moving, slowly but surely curling on itself, into perfect little coils… No longer is it the nice straight hair that you had. It was unassuming, but it was boring, compared to getting a perfect perm full of perfectly uniform curls that can only come out of a barber’s shop.
It leaves you with a weird feeling that both turns you on and heats your cheeks in a mix of arousal and shame. Heats it so much that it regenerates your skin, makes it tighter, blemish-less and stubble-less. I’d say you look 18 or 19 again, if I was to guess !
So focused you are on that hair that you don’t actually realize that I’ve put the second sleeve on, completing your look. This sends a power wave in your body, as you feel your pants and old clothes stretching into a set of gray tracksuits.
You feel both of the tracksuits’ pockets suddenly getting heavier. In the left pocket there is a bunch of jewelry : a ring, a fat chain and some cool ear studs. You quickly put them on ‒ a hole pierced as you pick the stud in the lobe of your ears ‒ before you inspect the other pocket.
The latest iPhone. Of course you know the exact model name, as a sense of pride of having bought the hottest trend fills you ‒ though I can’t be bothered to learn it. And as you turn it on, you see a slew of notifications from Instagram, Tiktok and Snapchat attack you.
As you inspect them, you feel your brain slowing down, as if all your neurons were being vacuumed up by social media. Checking more and more of these notifications, the only thing that stays important to you is your style and a fake sense of superiority as you are reminded of your 126-strong follower base (none of them are bots, you swear). You are at the brink of worldwide fame !
Hahah, yeah, I can immediately see your posture getting more confident and masculine ! You are no longer the dweeb who was afraid of getting a perm, now you’re a real cool guy who does not fear but rather craves the others’ gaze.
You’re willing to put yourself on any bandwagon if it means you’re noticed more. It’s why you’re rocking the shiniest jacket, the richest fur, the cringiest perm and the most garish phone !
But let me tell you a little secret. You see the puffer jacket you’re wearing ? It’s just like you. Big like the muscles you’ve been gaining in the gym, shiny like the products and care you put in your look, and most of all empty like the contents of your brain.
So, do you like this new life ? If you do, the only thing you have to do to make it official is to take a selfie with your new phone.
If you want to go back to your old boring life full of intelligence and respect, just have fun strolling around the mall for a few hours until you naturally turn back into yourself !
Hahah, who am I kidding, of course you will took a selfie while I was busy explaining all that.
Gotta update the socials before anything ! You need it to be emotionally whole !
"Hold it right there, young man ! I am the hair fairy, and I find you in violation of hair law !"
I look at the feisty little being who appeared floating in front of me. Its most distinctive trait is for sure its hair that goes from the tip of its head down to its tiny feet in a long mane only separated by tiny transparent wings. Though you can’t quite decide whether it’s male or female, with its otherwise very baggy clothes.
"I’m sorry ? I was just trying out caps I don’t know what you’re talking about !
‒ My man, haven’t you noticed ? You’re bald ! Such a crime for a nice-looking young man to be deprived of such an essential part of beauty ?
‒ Ugh…" I sigh. I didn’t want to reopen old wounds. "I know, I’ve been balding ever since I was 16. Going bald was the best decision I’ve ever done, and look !" I put on a green cap from the rack next to me. "With caps like that, who needs hair !"
I cross my arms, taking a confrontational stance. Going bald also helped me feeling better with myself, starting to wear jewelry and fashionable clothes, looking all the more masculine… and threatening when I want it. I am just waiting for my facial hair to be dense enough to grow into a nice beard, at this point !
"I admit that you look very good with caps… Well, I tell you, be glad it is I who will help you, because I’m nothing if not creative !"
The fairy then takes out a thin ivory stick, and waves it around. A cloud of sparkles leave its tip and heads directly towards my head.
Reflexively, I pull my arms up to protect myself, but it goes though my puffer jacket and inside my scalp, which immediately starts tingling.
"What did you do to me !
‒ Well, look at the mirror !" The fairy points at the small mirror in the cap rack.
At first I don’t see anything, but as I feel my scalp itch more and more, I go scratch the back of my head…
Which encounters hair.
Before I even have the time to turn my head, I can see curls peek out of the base of my neck. And indeed, when I turn my head, I see a wild bush of curly hair growing on the back, nothing on the sides, at the to obscured by the cap ‒ though it is also itchy under there.
I take my cap out and the scalp under it explodes into a mop of curls, from the crown of my head up to my forehead. I put my free hand in it and scratch the scalp, as if to confirm that this is real. And it is.
I put my cap back on and look at my… at my mullet. It looks so weird… But so hot at the same time !
I… I love it ! How did I even live without that on my head ! No need for beards, I look 100% hot and masculine !
"So, do you love it ?
‒ Fucking yes ! Where were you before, when I started losing my hair !
‒ Ahh, I was helping other people who were doing crimes against hair ! Unfortunately, there are too many humans for me to treat all of them in due time !"
Yeah, balding is such a common issue… and seeing what it is talking about, it’s also correcting for bad hairstyles, the workload must be so big !
"Well… I’m glad you came so late !" I admit.
‒ Huh ?
‒ If you came earlier, I’d have never started wearing caps, and you’d have never created such a hot style !
‒ Oh my !" It blushes. "Well, thank you, young man ! I will remember you !"
And on that the fairy disappears, likely to help yet another person.
I can’t contain my joy, and laugh of glee in front of the mirror, attracting the other customers’ gaze. But I don’t care ! I have hair again ! And I look so hot with it ! Look at me all you want !
And now… I guess I have one more reason to complete my cap collection !
That’s what my latest hook-up has told me, and it has been bothering me ever since.
I don’t know why, as I’ve always abhorred the idea of having a mass of hair on my face. I’m happy enough playing to the fem side of me, being lithe and hairless, but yet…
The next morning, I find a shadow on the lower half of my face. I don’t have strong body hair genetics, and this shadow definitively appeared in areas it never did before. I was even tempted to… let it stay there.
But I was decided. I won’t let that guy’s words get to me. I shave it.
Barely a few hours later, I feel a tingling all over my jaw. I put my hand to it, and feel the scratch of hair. How did it grow so fast ! I don’t want it !
But real men have beards…
By midday, I have a stubble. I am at work, unable to shave it down, but I don’t feel as panicked as I expected to be. In fact, scratching it while thinking proves surprisingly… satisfying. After all, I am a man.
After lunch, my colleagues notice that I changed. They ask me whether I have gone to the gym recently, because my gains are very visible. I look down at biceps. Fuck, I am a man (?).
As the hours pass, my fingers grasp more and more hair when they unconsciously worm their way on my face. I’m wearing what may more and more be called a beard, and I feel like I’m taking more and more space, my shoulders cracking outwards.
I even smell some kind of funk… no, that’s too nice to be called that, some cologne filling out my room. Colleagues who enter don’t hesitate to complement my pecs, my tight waist and my nice ass for the most fruity of them.
By the end of the shift, I stand back up to a higher posture and caress my still growing beard. As I throw my body around with a heavy gait, I can’t help but be the center of attention. Everyone watches me and my tight shirt bursting of muscles, elaborate tattoos with artistic motifs and imposing aura. After all, I am a man.
And real men have beards.
When I arrive back home, I find my flat’s atmosphere utterly change. No longer is it the dwelling of a gay twink, rather it is the den of a real man. I look at the mirror, and see a real man. After all, real men have beards.
But not me.
I go in the bathroom to take my razor and shave down my beard source of all my problems. But instead my razor veers up, and start shaving down my afro into a simple and masculine french crop.
Looking at the real man in the mirror, I can’t help but accept the truth.
I have a beard.
Real men have beards.
Ergo, I am a real man.
Not a feminine twink.
I take the last of my jewelry, two golden chains and a golden watch, and look at myself, for the first time smiling at my reflection.
I am a real man.
And as a real man, my dick calls to action. Looking at Grindr profiles, I see that of a feminine twink with great potential.
I text him to meet me for a good pinning down. And get him ready to accept the truth.
"No, I said I don’t want to drive ! I’m not going to enter your stupid car !
‒ Bro, relax ! Driving is like sooo useful, it doesn’t matter if you won’t use it for like 3 years or 4, when you do need it you’ll be glad to have learned it, dude !
‒ Ugh, you don’t understand ! It’s not a question of it being useful or not, I just don’t want to be pressured into using a polluting tin can that wreaks havoc on our city design !
‒ Again with your smart-ass words, lil’ bro ? I’m trying to help you !"
I adjust my glasses. I love my big brother, but he can be a bit of a dumb-ass. When he gets an idea in mind, he won’t ever give up, which in some circumstances is good, but in others like that ? Extremely annoying.
"Yes, I know, but can’t you see that you’re not helping me ? I’m fine enough as it is going to university by bus, and I don’t plan on moving outside the city !
‒ But don’t you want to be able to drive your future boyfriend around ? Think how cool he’ll think you are, bro !"
Again with that. He thinks that the car is such a status symbol that he struggles to comprehend that other people might have a different opinion… We’re in 2026, now, not in the 50s ! The car is now the past, not the future !
And what does he think I’m like ! As a uber-nerd with short enough hair that I don’t have to worry about it and a tight and boring dress shirt, I won’t pull any boy ! I’m glad my brother was accepting when I came out, but still !
"Okay, fine, I’ll step in it if you want. But you’re liable for any damage I make to your car.
‒ Don’t worry, lil’ bro, you’ve got the best teacher ever ‒ me !"
We both enter the car, me on the driver’s seat and him on the other. However, just when I put my hands on the wheel, I suddenly feel a tingling throughout my body. But before I can investigate it, my brother starts giving me instructions.
I place myself correctly on the seat, feet in front of the pedals, but as I do it feels as if I’m getting bigger. I readjust myself, and look at my arms as they grow light muscles. I… guess I’m bigger than I thought ?
My brother suddenly tells me to start by unlocking the handbrake and changing the gear. As I lower my arm, I feel some tingling on its surface. Pulling my hand back up, I can see the extremity of a tattoo from below the cuff of my shirt.
"Bro, careful, you gotta push the clutch pedal right on the left at the same time as you shift gears !" My brother suddenly stops me, before I have time to think. "Else your car’s gonna stop and you’ll have to restart it !"
I pull back my hand behind my head to scratch my scalp in embarrassment. That was one of the few things I knew going in, and I failed it… But wait, I’m holding on to more hair than before ! And… it’s growing between my fingers ? Fuck, what’s happening !
"Hey‒" I start asking, my voice sounding a bitweird, suddenly.
‒ Now, bro, push on the acceleration pedal to go forward !" He cuts me. "Gently, though, dude, we don’t wanna faceplant on the walls !"
I do as ordered, feeling my pants tastefully rip into distressed jeans as I push the pedal. The wind starts pouring inside the car, making my shirt flutter and loosen into a more t-shirt-like fabric. I want to check it out, because I know something wrong is happening, that something not normal is happening… but‒
"Nice, lil’ bro ! Now, to stop the car, pull up your feet from the acceleration pedal, and when you’ve slowed down enough, hit the brakes !"
I do as he says, feeling the wind on my newly exposed arms. But when it comes time to hit the brakes, I push it too abruptly and we are both thrown forward.
I feel the constriction of the seat belt, and as we both get our back correctly on the seat, I feel a girthy chain hit my torso. Looking down, I find a gigantic pendant on that ridiculous chain. I don’t own anything like that…
"Hey‒" I start, before once again being interrupted.
‒ You did great, lil’ bro ! A bit too strong, but you’ll learn ! And also looking good, I didn’t know you were finally growing yourself a beard !"
I take my hand to my face, and feel roughness on my upper lip and on my chin. Hair growing as if I hadn’t shaved for a week. That’s so wrong, no, it can’t go on like that !
"Hey !" I finally assert my deep voice. "I didn’t used to look like that entering the car, didn’t I ? What’s happening to me !?
‒ Lil’ bro…" He sighs, an air of pity on his face. "You were so pathetic, you looked like you had your head inside books all day and didn’t see the light of day, dude !
‒ That’s because it’s true !
‒ Yeah, yeah, whatever. I needed to help you ! Otherwise how are you gonna pull chi- I mean guys ? Looking like a dork ? Chi- guys want real cool masculine guys like me, bro !
‒ You don’t know anything…
‒ No, you don’t know anything, dude ! And I didn’t want to have a brother who gets blue balls, that’s just pathetic !"
I look down at myself. White t-shirt with writing, obnoxiously big chain with gigantic pendant, muscular frame, tattoo sleeve and distressed jeans. Looking at the rear view mirror, I see a goatee and mustache, as well as long puffy hair that is nicely framed and faded. I look like my big brother, that’s for sure… the only thing that remains is my pair of glasses.
"Now, lil’ bro, I’ll just need to take this out…" He takes a hold of my glasses, and snitches them out. "and you’ll get the right mindset, dude !"
Everything goes blank.
…
Fuck, what was I doing ? I was… in my big bro’s car… still am… and he’s here… Fucking hell, why’s my brain so foggy today !
"Bro," I ask, my voice undoubtedly gravelly out of an effort of sounding more masculine. "what were we doing ?
‒ I was teaching you hot to drive, lil’ bro !
‒ Oh… yeah…"
I stay there, thinking. Something feels wrong, but I can’t quite put my finger on it…
Oh.
I see what.
"Why the hell haven’t I learned to drive sooner !
‒ Beats me, but you’ll get tons of dudes with that !
‒ Bet !"
As you enter the gym yet another time, you sigh of regret, remembering with shame that twink you met two months ago.
He asked you what would be the best exercises to grow some muscles ‒ you were the only one there that seemed both experienced and approachable enough. However, he looked so cute with his twinky features, you felt it would be a waste for him not to play into it.
So you talked to him about cardio and squats, to keep a flat stomach and grow fat glutes ad nauseam, ignoring all his complains that he wanted to become tanked. You still regret being this narrow-minded.
Because at some point you both lost patience. He told you that he didn’t care about these kinds of exercises. You answered that it’s not his place to do the almost mythical mega-workout, the one where you do every single exercises this gym can offer, when he had such great genetics. He answered… by cursing you.
He recounted an incantation in what you later understood to be Old Slavonic, and everything became dark in an instant except for the twink’s eyes… until you knew something dark had taken root in your heart.
He laid out the principle of the curse : every day, when you go to the gym, you’ll turn into someone random ‒ but never yourself ‒ and when you leave the gym, you turn back to yourself.
You’ll be working out that person’s body, not yours, and the only way to break the curse is to do the mega-workout ‒ at which point you’d stay inside the body you currently have permanently.
And as if by magic, you suddenly turned into a middle-aged balding fat man. Panicking, you ran outside, but when out, you were back to yourself… and when you re-entered, you again that middle-aged fat man.
You came back the day after, you transformed into a busty blonde woman. You tried changing gyms, you transformed into a cringy 18 years old fuckboy with ridiculous hair. You tried working out at home, you transformed into a skinny hipster with a man-bun.
Meanwhile, you saw your gut grow pudgy, and the lean muscles you spent years growing out of a want to become attractive to other guys.
And so you cursed the name of that anonymous twink you wronged. And went everyday to the gym, hoping to find a way to break that curse that didn’t involve becoming a MILF…
… until today.
Entering the gym, you find your muscles feeling suddenly tense, and your frame suddenly wide.
It’s not the first time it happened, you still remember your excitement when it happened last, until you saw that you found yourself in the body of an old man on steroids or a bodybuilder woman. So before getting excited again, you need to find a mirror.
And the mirror doesn’t disappoint.
Your muscles look thick, your hair full, black and silky, a thick beard hides what is likely a cut jawline, your features are youthful and handsome, skin tan, and body hair peak out of your clothes.
You’re like a bulky demi-god ! You’re the image people have in mind when thinking about Hercules ! You have your ideal body.
You touch yourself, feeling the creaking facial hair under your fingers, and the strong muscles under your palm. Fuck, it’s real.
You change yourself in the locker room, and ready yourself.
Today, you’re doing the mega-workout. Whether you have it in you or not.
I put my earphones in, as I prepare the latest Jocknodaddy hypno file. I have never gone to the gym ‒ I am but a scrawny nerd ‒but from what I heard, this file is so good at putting into the mood of a jock that you get a good feel for the different exercises. Hopefully that is true, ‘cause I paid for an inactive Patreon to get it !
I start the file, and as I hear the first words I suddenly feel a bout of fatigue. I sit at a nearby bench to recover, but soon enough it passes. Weird, I thought I slept well yesterday night ! No matter, I go to the main room of the gym.
Suddenly, in my head, a thought runs telling me that I should start with some cardio. I step on the treadmill, and start running, a fittingly dynamic music suddenly starting in my ears. I find that weirdly exhilarating, as I feel the years of fat melting off my belly.
Then, I get the thought that I should go on the abs crunch machine. I wander over there, feeling myself a bit light but proud of my achievement. I start using it, finding it disturbingly easy to use, and feel as my abs compressing into a six-pack.
Another thought crosses my head without me actually thinking. I should go to the fly machine. I do just that, and I feel my pecs swelling each rep. I would find my rate of gains weird, in normal circumstances, but I’m lazy to think about it more, right now.
And so I chain the machines. First the leg press, making my quadriceps feel like steel, then the elliptical, causing my shoulders to pop out and "wings" to appear on the sides, the hip thrust machine, strengthening my ass into a strong, firm and fat shape, and finally the free weights, swelling my biceps into monsters.
It all feels like routine, like something I’ve been doing for years and years and years, to the point where thinking becomes useless. I just do the same thing every day of my life, no change, no surprise. Just the pump and the glares from the other puny gym-goers.
I walk up to some of the mirrors, my pace slow and heavy like a hunk. I take out my gym t-shirt, cutting the earphones into airpods, and as it morphs into a white cap, I put it back on, backwards.
And when I reach the mirrors... the thoughts suddenly stop.
I stand there, nothing in my head, looking at the hot piece of cake in front of me. He’s hot, he’s big, he’s all that I want to be… yeah, someone strong, who gets all the head he wants…
But then, after mustering all the neurons that remained, I realize. Of course, he’s me.
I was looking at hot guys on the beach, the last day before I had to go back home from holidays. As you do when you want to relax one last time and you’re touch-starved, like me.
Suddenly, one of those hot guys approached me. I assumed he was going to his stuff somewhere behind me and I was going to benefit from the eye-candy, when he actually started talking to me. Me, the unassuming nerdy guy with a bit of a belly and a mop of unkempt hair.
He was sizing me up, calling me cutie and messing with his tight curls as he was flirting with me in the least subtle way one can take. I had suspicions I was being bamboozled in some way, but my virgin ass was so enamored by this adonis of a man that I chose to forgo every single one of them.
When he started pointing at the nearby beach toilets, making not-so-subtle allusions to having sex, I could answer naught but yes.
He started feeling out my body, kissing me on my neck, while I hesitated even putting my hands on his back, so afraid I was to make a wrong move. But as he started rubbing his skin against mine, I also started to relax. Face fully flushed, but starting to pay less mind to the absurdity of the situation and more to the sheer pleasure of the moment.
As the make out was getting more and more intense, however, I could feel almost as if I was shifting below his rubs. I felt his abs stick tighter and tighter on my belly, as if the latter was receding. I could also feel my arms getting bigger and bigger, tufts of hair growing where it joined up with my torso.
But before I could compute that, he forcefully turned me over, and slid down my swimsuit, grinding his bulge. He took my head with his right hand, squeezing my jaw into a chiseled form and splitting my chin into that of a model.
He then entered his tool inside my ass, sliding right in as if it had already been prepared, and I cried of shock as I felt my brain empty. As if it wasn’t enough, he was pulling on my hair, making me feel as if a cloud of ecstasy was going down on my mind.
After barely a few minutes, we both nutted gallons, all of his cream filling my inside as proof of my virginity being taken away. But rather than a cry of contentment, I heard him cry of happiness.
"I’m finally myself again !" His voice was faster and less sultry than before, though still as deep and masculine.
I looked at him, not really understanding the situation ‒ and actually having a hard time forming my thoughts.
"Oh sorry, I guess now it’s you ! Oh my god you look so hot, that’s magical !"
I felt a weirdly out-of-place feeling of vanity over that, even though I usually find vanity to be the worst of sins.
"Fuck, I still like guys…" He whispered to himself, before addressing me again. "Well, you are cursed ! You get this hot as hell body forever, for the low, low price of being trapped on that beach ! The only way to leave is to, and I quote, ‘seed a virgin’."
I look at him weirdly, not really understanding what he’s on about. Fuck, I feel so slow… is that the kind of feeling you get after you have sex ?
"Oh yeah, you also become dumb, so… ugh, okay, I understand why she had a hard time explaining it to me. To leave the beach ‒ and become smart again ‒ you have to have sex with a virgin. You know, someone who never had sex, just like you !" I nodded slowly, starting to understand the situation. "You have to nut inside them, otherwise you can’t transmit it ! Like in the ass, in the pussy or in the mouth, else it doesn’t work.
‒ So, I can’t have a, like, vir- virg-… ugh, like someone who never had sex nuts in me, right ?" I ask, my voice delightfully deep and sultry, though slow and dumb-sounding. But I could see him blush, so I just smirked in unearned victory.
‒ No, it won’t work !" He waggles his finger. "But don’t worry, you’ll also like guys, now ‒ though I guess, in your situation, chicks ? ‒ so you have more choice."
My remaining neurons start firing. I guess it would be good to go outside the beach ? To be back to not having this cloud in my head ? Yeah… though it’s fun like that, maybe I could stay for a bit…
"Oh, and remember it’s the last day of holidays. Tomorrow, there’s only gonna be oldies on the beach. So, better hurry up !"
On that, he left the beach. I tried following him but I found I couldn’t get out of the sand to the road. He said the truth. I wouldn’t even be able to go to the beach party in the seaside restaurant, what an absolute torture !
I waved him goodbye, as I started scanning the beach to see if there were any virgin remaining. When I finally found someone ugly enough to maybe be a virgin, I approached them, raking back my hot mane of hair and subtly flexing my biceps.
Ahhh, how foolish you were to sit in that chair. You should have known that this brand new barbershop appearing out of nowhere right at the moment you were thinking your hair was growing too long to manage was not normal. But don’t worry, you’re in good hands. Now, sleep, boy.
I do love when the men I handle are obedient little sheep like you. I’m going to start by putting a very special product all over your hair. Feel how relaxed me kneading your scalp makes you. I won’t be spoiling what its effect is just yet, but you might just feel your hair slither around as we focus on something else.
You see, I have a problem with your face. It looks too… normal, yeah, that’s the word. Not worthy of being at the forefront of social media ! So let me move around your facial features so they’re more handsome and masculine, defined jaw, full lips, perky nose… all that ! And let us not forget to also sculpt your pecs, to carve abs on your belly, and to otherwise make you more muscular ‒ but still slim enough to get some of that metrosexual appeal ! Muscles are the key to the recognition you’ll crave !
Ooh, I can see the product is already having an effect ! I can see your hair curling on itself, making it into a puddle of large but tight curls ! But we just need them to gain a bit more definition before I can set them up right ! So I’ll just continue working on your face a bit.
Let me apply this cream. It will make your skin smoother and warmer, correcting years of mismanagement. You’re welcome ! I’ll also sculpt your eyebrows so that they’re thin but straight, definitively masculine but more refined. Finally, let me apply this other cream… yeah, feel how hairs slither out of your skin on your upper lip and your chin. I don’t know if you even wanted a goatee, but that doesn’t matter, now, does it ! You’re a slave to the trends, and if the trends call for a thin mustache and a chin patch, you’ll grow that !
Ah, great, now your hair is all defined correctly ! You’re looking so good like that, but you could look even better ! Let me take the top portion of your hair, fasten it to a metal hairband, and there you go, a big mushroom ! Now, we just need to shave the rest down to a stubble, and fix your hairline to be nice and square… yes, you look magnificent. Sure, it’s a bit ridiculous to have such a big crown of hair suspended on top of your head, some may even call that cringe, but you know you look good.
In fact, let me tell you a secret… you’re the hottest of them all. People mocking your style are just jealous of how fucking good you look. You’re such a handsome bro, you deserve to be loved and admired. You’re fueled by recognition from others, and put all your power in making yourself look hot.
Go to the gym, define your hair, do a skin routine, get yourself the latest style ! You can’t let others defame you, or even worse, ignore you. In fact, let me fasten those diamond studs to your ears… there you go ! Free ear piercing ! These are so big and imposing, people will know to listen to you ramble about sports and your own greatness. Anything else isn’t important.
Ah, you look good, now ! Yet another douchebag to let loose on the unsuspecting world ! Caring about nothing but yourself ! You’re gonna do great out there, bro.
Oh, I’m sorry, you don’t know how you look ? I guess I left you under for too long, I must apologize !
