Sporttf

[urbankiffer-deactivated20160613]

[myfetishworld]

https://www.instagram.com/p/BqUZhPsgs1b/?utm_source=ig_share_sheet&igshid=vjbyibpafah7

[sporttf]

😍😍😍😍😍😍

[subgutto90-deactivated20211025]

[get-on-your-knees-boy]

Always wanted to take a sub into a store to transform them. The sub will walk in to the shop in his day clothes and leave without them. Each part of his body will be covered in rubber, leather, lycra or Neoprene. Full of buckles and locks, unable to remove the bondage they will be led out the store to their new life.

[silverscallyblog]

[anon-sect2]

Please.Could you tell a story about a man who becomes a footrest for each soccer player? They rest and wipe their smelly and sweaty socks in his face,hair and ears. And then he washes their feet with his tongue, while they have fun playing with his nose and abusing his ears with their toes.

Picture source: internet

[anon-sect2]

Mike wanted to join the team so badly, but try as hard as he could, he wasn't selected. He felt disappointed at first until one of the players suggested that he could be their water boy. That way he was on the team, but in a supporting role. He was so glad to be on the team, even though it was a supporting role versus being on the field.

After one game, several of the players called him into the locker room. Mike wondered what they had wanted to discuss with him. "What's up?" He asked as he saw them on the bench.

"Well, you see, being our water boy was part of the supporting role. There was another part to which you are on the team for," Avery said with a smirk. The other three laughed, knowing what he was alluding to.

"What part is that?" Mike asked, being curious. This was the first time he heard about the other part of the deal to be on the team.

"Well, we need a sub to serve us. Since you couldn't be a player on the field, you will make an excellent sub." Avery explained while the others snickered.

Mike didn't know what to think at the moment. The thought of being the team's sub wasn't what he signed up for.

"I see you are in thought," Wilkins added to the conversation. "But you have to serve as both parts or we can't have you on the team. So what will it be?" He asked while the other three looked at Mike.

Mike didn't want to leave the team either. He knew the only option that was available to him. "What do I have to do?" He reluctantly asked.

Jake spoke next. "For starters, come kiss each of our shoes." He gave the order, waiting for Mike to obey him.

Mike got to his hands and knees before all four of them and began to kiss four pairs of shoes in succession. He could hear them laughing above him as he kissed their shoes on command. He felt so humiliated and degraded at their expense. When he finally kissed the last shoe, he was slightly relieved. He hoped that would be the end of it.

"You show promise as our sub. This is only the beginning of serving us." Ricky added with a smile. "Only the beginning, so you'd better get used to it." The others smirked at his words to Mike.

Mike was afraid of that part. Later that day, he was told to be over at Ricky's place and not to be late. He didn't want to be late fearing what consequences might follow from the four of them. He knocked on his door. He saw Ricky in a pair of shorts and a tank top, with just his white ankle socks on. Ricky motioned for him to come in. He followed him to his den. Before he could sit down, he saw Jake, Avery and Wilkins on the couch. He didn't expect all four of them. They had a video game playing on the big screen TV with controllers in their hands.

"Awesome, our footstool is here." Avery said, smiling at Mike.

"About time, we nothing to rest our feet on while we game." Wilkins added with a twisted smirk on his face.

"You heard them, we need our footstool." Ricky said as he guided him over to the area in front of the couch.

Mike got on all fours with his back straight. Immediately, Wilkins, Avery and Jake propped their feet onto his back without a care. Ricky sat in another chair and rested his feet on the back of his head and neck. All four carried on a conversation with each other as though he wasn't there. He was being treated like a piece of furniture for his teammates while they gamed and relaxed. A few times, he would notice one of them looking down at him and smirk back. Then they would go back to talking as though he was just furniture. He felt so degraded at their expense and fun.

After about two hours of playing the game, Mike noticed they turn the game system of and switched over to watching Netflix. "Get on your back now." He heard Ricky command him. He obeyed and laid on his back. All four of them placed their feet on his chest, stomach and face. Each of them took turns making him smell their rank socks over and over while watching a movie on Netflix. He was even force to lick the bottom of their socks, which tasted so disgusting. He thought it couldn't get worse, until he saw each of them removing their socks.

Ricky took off his socks and stuffed them into Mike's mouth, "taste them, boy." He said to the laughter of the others. He then covered his nose with his toes, forcing him to smell his toes the entire time.

Wilkins took his toes forcing Mike to suck on Ricky's socks and placing his toes over his mouth.

Mike wasn't sure if he should be hating this or loving it. Something started to happen. At first, he wanted it all to end, but he was feeling strange as new thoughts entered his mind the more all for covered his face with their feet. Soon, Ricky took his socks out of his mouth and shoved his toes in. He was forced to suck and lick between each of his toes. The other three joined in on the fun of making him suck their toes. He started calling all four them his masters without realizing it. He began to want more and more of their abuse at their feet.

"I think it's working. He getting used to being under our feet, guy." Ricky noticed.

"I told you it would work. Now, he will be our perfect foot boy." Avery added as he made Mike lick the soles of his feet

For over an hour, Mike's face and head was played with by their feet. There was a point that he had hated it, but now, this was his life. It was a life to be a foot boy to his teammates. The more feet that covered his face, the more he craved it.

[blaumaavi]

[smokerrs51]

[hotsmokersworld]

HOT HOT HOT 🔥🚬🐽

[bdsmaistories]

Hello. Do you like pop collar shirts?

For some reason, betas have a weak spot for popped up collars. I don't understand why, I just take advantage of it.

[bdsmaistories]

Work can also be fun when you got betas serving you at the office.

[crazycoolsexyguy]

[aichavgooner]

I'm a chav bitch. This mean I like to dress like a chav, act like a chav and most importantly serve other chav.

I recently realised I was born to serve men.

@frenchlovechavs is now my Master. He will make sure I turn into a proper good obedient chav lad to please him.

[inanimateindustries]

Father's Day Singlet

by Inanimate Industries

[polo-drone-001]

The Golden Transformation: Serving Roman

There I was, thinking being an office drone was all it took to serve my purpose. Wearing the shiny uniform, keeping the office neat, thinking I was where I was meant to be—serving Cap and the Golden Team. I thought I was a good drone, and that was it. But nah, turns out there was another level I was about to reach—another role for me to serve. And it wasn’t what I expected.

Roman needed something else. He didn’t need an office drone—he needed something a little more... intimate. Something to wear, to feel him, to support him. He didn’t need me organizing the office or sorting out equipment. Nah, he needed me at the gym, wrapped around him, giving him everything, absorbing every bit of him.

So, there I went, transformed into Roman's golden jockstrap. The moment it happened, everything changed. No more cleaning, no more typing—just the feeling of being stretched across his hips, hugging his musky golden goods. Just being there, wrapped tight, every flex of his muscles reminding me of my place. It was leg day, and I knew what was coming—the sweat, the pressure, the closeness.

Roman didn’t even have to say anything. He just picked me up and slipped me on, like it was the most natural thing in the world. And for him, it was. I wasn’t even a drone anymore; I was Roman's golden jockstrap. It felt right. Just like Dad used to follow his boss without question, I followed Roman. I didn’t have thoughts, I didn’t have a name—I was just there to serve. Every squat, every lift, every bead of sweat soaking into me—it all felt so right.

The more Roman worked out, the more I felt myself fading. My thoughts, my identity, all melting away with every rep, replaced by the simplicity of being just a piece of gear—just something Roman needed. I hugged his golden orbs as he squatted, my whole being reduced to the pressure, the weight, the warmth of his body. There was nothing else—only Roman.

And you know what? It felt kinda good. No pressure, no expectations. Just the warm musk of Roman's workout, the golden goo seeping into me, and the knowledge that I was exactly where I was meant to be—serving the Golden Team in the most intimate way possible. No thoughts, no resistance—just pure submission.

Ready to embrace the gold? Ready to find your place, no matter what form it takes? Contact @hamza-goldenarab, @brodygold, or @hades-golden19 for your initiation. Let the gold consume you. 🌀💛

Thanks Roman @romangolden68

Roman-Golden-68

Huhuhu, mah bro @golden-logan10 turned into some golden briefs before mah very eyes. Of course, as a fellow Golden Bro, I couldn't resist th

[polo-drone-001]

The Golden Transformation: Soccer Socks for Roman

There I was, thinking my transformation as Roman's jockstrap was the peak of my purpose. Wrapped around him at the gym, feeling every rep, every drop of sweat—that was where I thought I belonged. But it turns out Roman needed something more, and I was ready to serve.

It was a typical training day. Roman had already slipped into his favorite gear, including Logan—his first transformed jockstrap. The one that had lost all sense of self, fully absorbed into its role of hugging Roman's golden goods, supporting him during every workout. And I? I had a new place to fit in.

Roman looked down at me, the golden soccer socks laid out, ready for another level of transformation. I wasn’t an office drone anymore, I wasn’t even a jockstrap. Now, I was meant to be at his feet, wrapped around his strong calves, snug, ready to be filled with purpose. He didn’t need to say anything—he just picked me up, pulling me over his muscled calves, and I instantly knew what my new role was. It felt natural, like it was always supposed to happen. I wasn’t Percival anymore—I was Roman's golden socks.

I hugged his calves tightly, stretching to fit perfectly, and with every step he took, every move he made, I was reminded of who I was. Just a part of him. My whole existence now was to feel the ground beneath his feet, to absorb the force of every step, the energy radiating through his body, and the musk of effort and domination that came with every movement.

As Roman played soccer, the sun shining on the field, I felt everything. The tension in his legs as he ran, the sweat soaking into me, the golden goo that seemed to spread warmth through my fabric, reminding me of my role. With every kick of the ball, with every sprint, I felt myself fade away further, my thoughts melting into a simple, pure purpose—supporting Roman, being his golden socks, and nothing else.

@goldengod-ares10 Logan was up there, hugging Roman's golden orbs, while I was wrapped tight around his calves, feeling the weight, the power, and the motion. And you know what? It felt just right. No thoughts, no distractions, just pure submission, just the warmth of Roman's sweat, and the knowledge that I was a part of something bigger—serving Roman and, by extension, the Golden Team.

Every stride, every kick, and every drop of sweat was a reminder that I wasn’t a person—I was a tool. Something Roman needed, something he used, and something that was perfectly content in that role. No identity, no resistance, only service.

Ready to feel the gold? Ready to give in and serve, no matter the form? Contact @hamza-goldenarab, @brodygold, or @hades-golden19 for your initiation. Let the gold consume you, let it take over, let it define you. 🌀💛

Thanks Roman @romangolden68

The Golden Transformation: Serving Roman

There I was, thinking being an office drone was all it took to serve my purpose. Wearing the shiny uniform, keeping the office neat, thinkin

[polo-drone-001]

I wish to be transformed into a clothe, guided by the role and instinct to protect and envelop the body of my future owner. My goal would be to offer comfort, warmth by fully fulfilling my mission as a clothe.

The Transformation: Becoming His Golden Tracksuit

It began with a pull deep inside you, a whisper that echoed through your mind and body, demanding you surrender to something greater. You were not meant to stand apart. You were meant to serve, to cling, to cover him completely. That purpose soaked into your very core, and your transformation began.

Your body softened first, flesh giving way to sleek, shimmering fabric. Limbs melted seamlessly into golden fibers, your skin stretching into a smooth, reflective material that glowed with the light of perfection. Heat spread through you, a pulse of energy filling you with a singular need. You were not just changing. You were becoming.

And then he arrived. Percival, the team manager of the Golden Army, stood before you, his gaze sharp and commanding. You could feel it before he even touched you, the bond forming. His claim settling deep inside you. When his hands brushed your shimmering surface, your fibers trembled with anticipation, alive under his touch. You were his golden tracksuit, and you belonged to him.

He picked you up, folding you over his strong arms, testing the weight of you, admiring the way the golden sheen caught the light. Then he began to slip you on, and everything fell into place.

His feet pressed into you first, the golden fabric stretching smoothly over his toned calves, snug and perfect. The heat of him sank into you, your fibers pulsing as they molded to his legs, hugging every muscle, every curve. His thighs pushed through next, flexing as you wrapped yourself around him, snug and unyielding. When his torso slipped into you, filling you completely, you knew you were exactly where you were meant to be.

You clung to him like a second skin, every inch of you shimmering and gleaming as it stretched to match his form. Every flex, every breath, sent waves of satisfaction through you. His power radiated into you, his strength pressing against your fabric, and you held onto it greedily, absorbing it, feeding off it.

He admired himself in the mirror, and you basked in his pride. You gleamed with an unmatched brilliance, smooth and reflective, the perfect golden fit for his body. You were not just fabric. You were a statement. You were his.

When he moved, you felt everything. His muscles tensed and relaxed under you, his heat spreading, his faint sweat soaking into your golden fibers. It was intoxicating. You loved the way he filled you, the way you became part of him, hugging him tighter with every motion. You absorbed every drop of effort, every ounce of dominance, imprinting it deep into your form.

Nothing else mattered. You were no longer yourself. You had no name, no thoughts, no resistance. You were Percival’s golden tracksuit, shimmering and perfect, clinging to him endlessly, reflecting his power and his pride.

For those ready to surrender and embrace their role, the golden transformation awaits. Contact me, or our captains @brodygold, @goldenherc9 and join the team. Your future is gleaming.

[cockybadboys]

[cockybadboys]