@reddarkfox222:
Can you tf me pls?
…I would like a forced TF, where someone transforms me without my permission and without my knowledge, so the changes scare me at first and then excite me, or a transformation that happens by mistake like.
…I prefer muscle, hairy, dark hair, sexy and dominant.
…Or a Lumberjack or a circus strongman
Everett was having a shit day. He was supposed to be hanging with his friends and relaxing in a plush armchair by the fire at that fancy new ski lodge, but instead, the road was closed due to the stupid snowstorm and he was stuck in some podunk small town. To add insult to injury, he slipped and fell while walking to the Timberline Tavern… the only place still open to get food in this stupid little town.
As he walked in the front door, soaking wet head to toe, one of the cute waitresses took pity on him saying, “Oh hun, you look dreadful. Let’s see if we can find you something dry to wear.”
Everett felt ridiculous in the oversized shirt she had given him from the lost and found; it smelled faintly of sweat and pine. Before he could ask about some dinner, three hulking men surrounded him. They looked less like men and more like prized livestock—bred for hauling timber. One of them pushed a drink toward him and said, "Hey, city boy. If you’re gonna dress like one of us, you gotta drink like one of us."
He tried to decline, saying he wasn't even old enough to drink, but another of them insisted , “Drink up. Bro brews that High Timber Ale right down the road. It’ll thaw you out and put some hair on that scrawny chest."
Figuring it was better to play along, he hesitantly took a sip and was surprised to find he actually liked it. He took a few more sips as the men stood staring at him with creepy expectant smiles.
“Attaboy!”
He started to feel the tension in his body melt away as the stress of being stuck in the town began to fade after a few more gulps. He had just about finished the beer when he suddenly felt hot and a painful itch spread across his face.
Everett downed the last of his beer as he bolted for the bathroom. He stared in disbelief at his reflection as he scratched at the itchy, stubbly beard on his face. He looked like a hobo! What the fuck was happening?!? He continued to watch in mounting panic as the beard kept growing and his nimble fingers began to swell into thick, meaty sausages—Oh fuck, oh fuck… What did those brutes do to me?
Once again he felt a heat spreading through his body, dulling his rising panic.
The itching sensation spread across his entire body as the once baggy shirt started to feel restrictive. Pulling open the top of the shirt, he stared down at the coarse hair now covering his chest and watched as his pecs mounded outwards, thick and heavy. He was starting to look like the burly men in the bar, with their solid build and ruggedly handsome features—wait what?!? That wasn't him. Yet…
Another wave of pleasant warmth spread through him as the smell of sweat and fresh pine seemed to grow stronger. He stared down at his chest again… He really did have some beautiful pecs, and that thick luscious fur covering them— Damn.
He stood there grinning at his own reflection and was finally snapped out of the moment at the sound of someone clearing their throat behind him. He spun to see a man leaning against the wall… a man that was built like a brick outhouse—pure, unfiltered testosterone wrapped in denim and flannel. And he had a sudden urge to rip that flannel off the man and break in the stud.
“Lookin' good, city boy. How about we see how well you handle that timber of yours?”
Unable to restrain himself any longer, he crushed the man against the wall with his thick body and growled, “Oh, I definitely know how to handle hardwood.”
They collided in a frenzy of raw instinct, tearing the clothes off each other. Rough, calloused hands raked over rock-hard muscle, mapping out the ridges of a broad back, digging into the deep valleys of a massive chest and torso thick with hair. The man let out a broken, ragged gasp of pleasure as he was bent over and felt the full, heavy length of the city boy drive home and stake his claim deep inside.
Grinding his sweat-drenched body against the man, he leaned in close and whispered,“The name's Rhett, and I ain’t no city boy.”
Rhett spent the rest of the night drinking with his new buddy Clay and the other locals—all thoughts of fancy ski resorts forgotten. He couldn't for the life of him figure out why he wasted time on those soft-handed city folk. He needed to be out here in the fresh mountain air, among real men like himself who appreciate the value of a body built through hard labor.
As the waitress brought another round of Bro’s High Timber Ale, Clay suggested that Rhett join a few of the boys out at his cabin so they could show him how they keep warm on these cold mountain nights. Rhett replied with a smirk, “I’ve got plenty of wood to keep us warm all night long.”
Charles, Rodney, and Daniel had been best friends for years. So Charles hadn’t questioned it when he had received a text from Rodney telling him to meet him at the local beach as right now.
When he arrived, he found the normally quiet beach was full of people drinking and having a party. Before he could even begin to look for Rodney, he heard somebody shout his name. He turned to see a very attractive guy walking straight towards him… Yet there was something vaguely familiar about the guy.
Before Charles could ask anything, the guy thrust a a shiny green can into his hand saying “There you are! You’re just in the time, the party is really picking up. Drink up bro!”
It was a can of something called Daytona Beach Pilsner from Bro’s Brewing.
Charles tried to politely decline saying he didn’t really drink, but he was soon surrounded by a bunch of rowdy frat guys chanting “Chug! Chug! Chug!” And it was obvious they weren’t gonna let him slip away without taking a drink.
Hesitantly, Charles took a small sip of the beer… and surprisingly it actually wasn’t that bad. So we took another sip, and then another. Before he realized it, he had drank the entire can and let out a tiny little burp. The guys surrounding him all started laughing and the same guy from earlier thrusting TWO beers into his hands saying “Is that all you got?”
Charles once again hesitated, but as his head started to feel a little foggy and the guys around him resumed chanting “chug”… he started to drink the next can.
This time after he finished, he let all the loud BELCH and immediately started chugging the next beer as the guys cheered him on.
As soon as he finished a can, somebody would hand him another beer and he would started to chug the next can. And with each can his belch grew longer and louder… BUUUUUUUUUURP!
It wasn’t long before Chad had chugged an entire six pack having to play catch-up after showing up late to the party. But damn did get few good belchs out of it! “The Chadster is ready to PARTY!!”
From behind him somebody shouted “Now there’s the Chad I know. That was epic!!” He turned to find the guy that had handed him the first beer when he had arrived… no, not just any guy… his best bro Rod who had told him about the party.
“Rod my man, this party is hoppin’! Where is Danny? He’s missing all the fun. I got a text him to get his ass over here.”
And so Chad pulled out his phone to send a quick message to Danny before grabbing another beer with Rod and heading off to join the party.
Daniel, Ken, and Brad decided they needed an after work drink and walked over to the neighborhood bar forgetting that it was St. Patrick’s Day. Outside the bar was a sign reading “St. Patty‘s Day Beer Bust sponsored by Bro’s Brewing” and a few frat boys well on their way to getting drunk.
The three stood outside the bar for a short while debating whether to go in, before deciding they would grab a quick drink and head out before the drunken chaos started ramping up.
Ken and Brad sat down to the table, well Daniel went to grab them drinks from the bar. The bar started getting more crowded and Brad was just about to go see what was taking Daniel so long when a rowdy young Irish guy walked up to their table carrying two bright green beers… and not wearing a shirt!
“Drenk up lads! It's de 'ouse special fahr St. Paddy’s day!” He thrust the two beers into their hand and stood there grinning at them.
Ken and Brad looked at each other, then the beers, then the oddly familiar man grinning at them, and finally back at each other. Just as Brad was about to refuse the drinks, he noticed that Ken was already taking a sip of the beer and before realizing what he was doing… Brad too had lifted the pint glass to his lips and taken a drink. The cool refreshing brew washed away their fatigue from the day replacing it with a pleasant fogginess of their minds.
Danny watched with anticipation and a growing stiffness in his pants as his two friends experienced the same change he had when the bartender insisted he a chug a beer at the bar… Years melted away, strength surged through the body as muscles grew, worry replaced with confidence, thoughts of career replaced with a desire for all the carnal pleasures life has to offer.
Danny gave his two mates a right hungry look. Kennan an' Brady were proper ginger rides, and he'd sure have a grand ole time with 'em back at his flat later tonight.
But for now, he gave 'em a cheeky grin and led 'em back to the bar for another round as the pub started to liven up with more an’ more fine lads showing’ up.
With all the lads an' hormones buzzin' about, it wasn't long before things began to sizzle.
It was lookin' like a grand night for a bit o' fun!
