#chav tf

[rubberchavkai]

WHAT YOU THINK OF THE NEW LOOK?

[mrhexumtfs]

I've met this guy from the UK, chav Kai. He's a total scallt and my type. And he just sent me this package from jd with some kinda trackies in it? What'd you think would happen if i tried them on?

The package wasn't just from JD alone. In fact, the products inside were from a collaboration between JD's clothing line and Hexum Industries.

Which explains the pink box with the JD logo, now currently in your hands. Normally they just use a simple cardboard box.

You had told Kai that the package had arrived. Immediately, he sent you a link for Zoom through the Tumblr chat. Pressing the link, you were soon able to see his face.

How hard he could make you... It was almost embarrassing how much of an effect Kai had on you.

He was a total chav. The way he spoke... The way he wrote! It made it so obvious he wasn't a cultured man. Sometimes you even wondered if English was truly his first language, despite him being native to the UK.

Kai was a complete idiot. A dumbass with no parallel. Yet believed himself to be the smartest guy around. He was so confident, it tempted you to just accept whatever nonsense he spewed as gospel. After all, he loved to reward you. You still remember the dick pic he sent you. Unkempt, wild reddish and blond pubes, pale thighs at the bottom of the picture. Low hanging balls. And a huge dick. Girthy, slightly curved to the left, and uncut.

It was a porn star kind of cock. Almost too big to be real... More than once you had dreamed of it. Of flying to the UK, kneeling in front of Kai just to worship such an exquisite prick...

Now, regrettably, you weren't facing his wonderful cock. But his smug face. He had a Burberry cap on. Wss also wearing a fake Lacoste polo, and a tracksuit jacket over it. He was smoking. He always was.

"I was like... Waiting for ya to get m'gift, bruv? And, like, now ya got it. So open it, bruv. They're proper clothes, check 'em out." he said, taking the cigarette out of his mouth, as he looked at you. "Be a good lad and rush. I'm sure you'll look proper fit, honest!"

Wasn't his accent so hot?

You opened the box, finding a gray tracksuit, black t-shirt, white Adidas socks, white sneakers and a silver chain. As well as gray Calvin Klein boxer briefs.

These weren't the kind of clothes you normally wore. Yet you recognized them. It was the kind of fashion a chav such as Kai would sport every day. It made you hold your breath with awe and excitement.

After all, you weren't a chav yourself. You were American. You were educated, currently doing a post grad. A life built for wealth and success... Completely unlike a chav's, who merely tried to imitate wealth without ever succeeding. Perhaps that's what made this so special. Perhaps that's what made this feel like the greatest gift you had ever gotten.

Because a proper chav was welcoming you. Allowing you to pretend, if for a second, that you were one of them.

It didn't matter there was a whole ocean between you and all the real chavs. You had always fancied them. You loved how they looked, how they spoke. Their vulgar and lower class simplicity. The abundant stupidity of their appearance, yet always enhanced by a certain masculinity that was so unique to them.

How many times had you fantasized about becoming one of them? Alone, at night, only accompanied by your trusty hand? You even loved imagining the dehumanizing way wealthier people would treat you, or think of you, were you to become a proper chav.

Meeting Kai, thusly, had always felt like a blessing and a curse. A blessing because it gave you an opening to see the world like a chav could and did. But it was a curse too, because it reminded you how you'd never be one of them.

This package? This gift? It was the nicest thing Kai could have ever done for you.

"Don't stand there lookin' thick, luv!" Kai said, interrupting your musings with a laugh. "Get off yer clothes! Let me take a proper look at ya! Then, you'll try 'em clothes on. Model them for me. How does that sound, bruv? It'll be a proper time, innit?"

Cheeks heated up as you nodded.

This was different to anything you had done before. One thing was to send and receive pics. But to get undressed in front of him? Sure, it was through a zoom meeting, but it felt so... Meaningful. So trascendental. Like this marked a before and after on your relationship with Kai. Were you truly ready for this?

You knew you would obey him. Not only because you wanted to. But also because you loved the idea of this ignorant sexy man giving you orders. A complete reversal of the real order of things. Were this in person, most would see you as above him.

No one had to know what you did in private.

First you shirt went off. A nice button up. It looked nice on you. Made you look professional.

Then the pants. Fancy dress pants. Somehow you knew they wouldn't look fancy at all if Kai was the one wearing them. Class and the features of his face were like water an oil. They repelled each other quite strongly.

Socks went next. You made sure to raise your feet up, so he got a view of how the nice dark fabric slid down your skin. Doing so for both feet.

Finally, your underwear. There was no reason not to get it off. He had already seen your dick before. And, besides, you were so hard right now that it was pointless to hide how excited you were from this. The bulge was so prominent enough it was impossible for Kai not to notice it.

Thus, you were naked. Kai was nodding, obviously appreciating the view. He was taking a drag from his cigarette.

"What a view, bruv. Yer a proper lookin' lad, so you are," he said, after exhaling the smoke. "Why don't ya turn around so I get to see ya whole, hmm? Gotta enjoy the view since I can't touch ya from here."

Biting your lip, you obliged.

You didn't go too fast. Allowing Kai some time to inspect your naked body. He whistled in approval, clearly enjoying this whole experience.

"The clothes, bruv. Try 'em on. It'll be like yer a proper chav like me. Promise ya that," he said, with a smile that should have made you pause.

Yet whatever hesitation or suspicion you may have had was utterly silenced by your horniness. The idea of becoming a chav, even if only as a role playing thing, was simply too arousing to ruin it with any kind of cynicism. Kai obviously couldn't have any ill intentions. What could he even do to you when he was on a completely different continent?

You took the Calvin Klein briefs. Were they real? Honestly, you couldn't say. They had to be new, right? But there were some flaws on the manufacturing that made you question that perhaps... Oh, who cared? This was about immersion, not perfect logic. So what if they were fake? Or if they were badly made? It would make the idea of becoming a chav all the more authentic.

Right?

They slid easily in place. Hugging your bottom very nicely. Playful, you moved your hips, showing your now clothed ass to the camera as you moved it from right to left.

And as you did so, your ass changed.

Both ass cheeks were inflating. Pushing the fabric outwards. It made you stop in shock. Looking at your own image on the zoom call, you witnessed your butt cheeks swelling. Until they were round, perfectly spherical. You now had an undeniable bubble butt. One of the nicest you've ever seen.

"This doesn't make any sense! What's happening to my butt...?" you asked, in shock. Was this a prank? Had Kai sent you boxer briefs with inflatable padding, or something of the sort?

A quick check was enough to prove that hadn't been the case. On the contrary, your butt had simply grown on its own. How? You had no explanation. Kai seemed awfully calm about it. Was he responsible? Or were you just imagining it?

Changes hadn't stopped however. For suddenly the briefs weren't as tight as they had become instant ago. You checked you ass, to see if the swelling had diminished to any degree, but no. Your new bubble butt remained unchanged.

That meant...

Looking at your bulge, you were devastated. As quickly as your ass had grown, your cock and balls were dwindling away! Hooking your thumbs on the waistband, you checked the damage. Whatever you had between your legs was not what you were familiar with. It was so small! An uncut tiny cock. Tiny even though it was as hard as it could be. It couldn't be more than three inches. Part of you feared it was closer to two!

And your balls? They had also shrunk. The whole ball sack higher and tighter. As if they had never dropped at all.

"Don't worry, bruv!" Kai said, with a grin that made you shudder. "I like my lads with tiny pricks. Makes 'em love my huge hog even more. Every one of 'em love to be dwarfed by me, honest!"

Shouldn't you be upset? Part of you was sure you should have. Yet Kai's words had made your devastation disappear as if it had never been there. Plus, it didn't matter how big your cock was. What mattered was how you used it. And since you liked guys like Kai to be in control... Well, you didn't need to use it for much beyond cumming.

No one needs a big cock for that. If anything, it may be easier to cum now than ever before...

"Put on the trousers now, luv!" he instructed, giving another drag to his cigarette.

Smiling... Because you were smiling for some reason, you followed his order. Taking the gray sweatpants, you put them on. Making sure the camera of your laptop was angled in such a way Kai could see you do it without any obstruction.

At first glance, the pants looked too big. Or maybe just too long? You just knew they wouldn't fit right. Not enough to complain. After all you were grateful that Kai had thought about giving you clothes to live your fantasy of being a chav. Even if just for pretend. If he had gotten the wrong measurement, it was an honest and easily forgivable mistake.

Yet, as you put them on... They seem to fit just right. It didn't make much sense, compared with the pants your had earlier. This pair was clearly longer and...

Why did the room feel smaller?

Checking your legs again, they looked longer. The fancy pair of pants... Of trousers look too small for you now.

Your legs weren't just longer, however. They had a really nice shape now. The shape of a man who plays soccer... No, football every weekend with his friends... Nice, well toned muscle, filled in the best of ways. Your thighs were just thick enough for your massive butt to make sense.

"What a sight, bruv. Yer shaping just right. Go on now. Get the shirt on, mate!" Kai said, distracting you again from your thoughts.

And so you put on the t-shirt. Immediately your physique began to change underneath. Lean, but in shape. Your pecs protruding enough to be considered as such. The t-shirt was tight, showing the trim shape of your torso exactly as it was now.

A sure bet was to say you spine had lengthened. The room looked smaller again. How tall were you now? Somehow you felt you had to be 6'1" feet tall. Maybe a bit more. Definitely not less.

Kai didn't let you get distracted with how much you had grown. He reminded you to keep putting on the clothes he had sent you. And so, you put on the jacket of the tracksuit. As you did, your arms changed. Although still lean, as the rest of your body, they filled with muscle. The muscles of a real man... The muscles of a working lad...

It was funny. Normally you would describe yourself as skinny. That wasn't inaccurate now. But, it was different. Now you were toned too. Trim. Like a man who wasn't just thin, no. You were strong. You were masculine. And you knew how to use these lean muscles when the occasion called for it.

Next were the socks. Kai reminded you. What would you do without him? He was so good at giving orders. It was so easy to just obey him, to just do whatever he wanted. Even if it was obvious. You were getting dressed, and your feet were still bare. Of course you needed your socks! But you hadn't thought about it yet. Not until he said to put them on.

Then the sneakers. They looked so much bigger than your usual shoes. In fact, they were next to each other. The sneakers were easily three sizes bigger. Surely they wouldn't fit? They had to be too big... There was no other possibility...

You hadn't given any of your measurements to Kai, now that you thought about it. Why had he bought you clothes? There was something weird about that, wasn't there? Then again, maybe he was just being nice... Kai always knew what to do... Why assume any ill intent?

Somehow, despite your scepticism, the sneakers were the right fit. They were huge, and yet... They weren't too big. If anything they felt a little snug. Well, you just had to break them in! All shoes were a bit snug at the beginning, weren't they?

"Yer almost ready, luv!" Kai said, as he finished his cigarette. "Only one thing left. Only one thing until you look like a proper chav!"

You laughed. Oh, how much you wanted to believe him! But you knew things didn't work that way. Clothes didn't make the man despite the saying. Your hair certainly was too dapper for that. Your eyes looked too intelligent. And you were healthy. Never smoked. Never drank. This was all pretend. Nothing more.

You took the chain in your hands. It was a nice one. Not something you'd consider using if it weren't for Kai's kindness and encouragement. Looking at the image of your face, as well as Kai's, on the screen of your laptop, you decided to put the chain on.

Eyes widened as soon as you did. It was unbelievable! Your face began to shift almost immediately! So did your hair!

The face was masculine, yet young. Younger than you were, at least. Not that you were old, at twenty three. You just felt younger, as if you had just turned twenty recently. The irises of your eyes had also changed. They were lighter now. Green? Blue? Maybe Gray? It didn't matter. Whatever color they now sported, it wasn't the usual brown you had grown up with.

Your new beard was something you felt proud of. Although, in your heart of hearts, you knew you shouldn't be. It clearly wasn't full, and it would take a lot of time to look like a proper beard. If ever. But it didn't matter how wispy your facial hair was. It was a way lf showing how manly you truly were. That was more valuable than anything.

As for your hair? You now had a fade. On the sides and the back. All the length was at the top. Still short, mostly messy. And you thought it was lighter too. Closer to blond than to black, even if it was still brown.

Overall, you were unrecognizable. Even to your own eyes, you didn't look like the American doing a post grad. But like the a regular chav from the UK. If you sat next to Kai at a pub, no one would see anything worth paying attention.

It was impossible to help the smile forming on your face. Your teeth! They were different too! Slightly crooked, not as white. They did look healthy overall, but in a more natural way. A guy with such teeth probably never needed braces.

"Woah, bruh! Look at that. I'm a proper chav now, innit?" you claimed, ecstatic.

Only to cover your mouth in shock. What was that? You hadn't intended to speak like a chav! In fact, any time you had tried to use the accent before—always alone—you did multiple and obvious mistakes. Your accent now was identical to Kai's!

Even the register was different. Deeper. Slower. Rumbly. With a lazy, almost clumsy way of saying each word.

"Bloody hell! Is that me voice, bruv?" you asked, looking at the screen, looking at the ever smiling Kai for any sort of explanation.

"It is, luv. So it is," he said, as if he was the wisest of men. "Exactly what ya wanted, I'm sure. To become one of the lads! And that I did, so I did."

Although the marvel you were feeling was great, that still gave you pause. What did he mean? How could he have done this? Magic wasn't a real thing, so it's not like...

Wait. Why were you denying magic's existence? You looked completely different! You sounded completely different! In no way you could recognize yourself anymore. No one could!

And... Why was it so hard to think about anything? Something here was fishy. It had to be. You just couldn't figure it out. A part of you knew it had to be obvious, yet any time the conclusion felt on your grasp, it just seemed to promptly fly away out of your reach.

"The package, me dafty!" Kai said, with a chuckle. "That's what changed ya, luv. I chose the clothes meself. It was like so great too. This clerk bloke told me I needed to see these magical clothes. That they'd 'life changing' or whatever. Didn't believe 'em. Why would I? But cheap it was, so I bought' em. Cheaper than any other clothes I e'er bought, bruv. And now I saw how it made you into a chav just like me! Well, almost... Couldn't have me fella be any smarter than me, could I, luv?"

Just like him...

No. That couldn't be true! Sure, the idea of becoming a chav was hot. But as long as it was skin deep. The way Kai described the transformation... It didn't sound so superficial. If your intelligence was on the line...

Your stomach plummeted. You were proud of your smarts. Of your effort, of your education. The idea of losing them was hot, certainly. But only as a fantasy. Actually experiencing it was a other matter entirely.

But were you really dumber? Perhaps Kai was just being cheeky. Laughing at your needless panic. There had to be a way of turning back right? There was no way Kai had transformed you permanently without asking you. And he had no way of telling of you were any stupider... Or did he? You couldn't be sure.

This had to be a role playing thing. It simply had to be.

"Don't worry, bruv. Don't stress that smooth brain of yers. Yer too thick now. And it's only going to get worse. Betcha ya don't even remember a thing 'bout what you've studied, huh?" Kai's voice was trying to be soothing, but they only felt chilling.

"I do remember!" you yelled, yet your deeper voice sounded uncertain. "I studied for years, bruv. Years! I ain't so thick as you say... I'm proper smart, I am! Like, for example..."

Suddenly your mind was blank. You couldn't remember a thing of what you've studied. Not even the basics. Even the most introductory of lectures had completely been erased from your brain.

You stepped back, unable to say a word. Eyes widened in panic. This couldn't be! You were smart! You were educated!

But were you?

Memories of going to college were quickly disappearing from your mind. The idea of doing a post grad was ridiculous. Not only because you were too young, but also because you couldn't even recall finishing high school anymore. Did you? Honestly you couldn't tell.

You just knew you didn't study for your A levels... Wait a minute! You weren't British! You'd never even have the chance to try those tests! Instead you had to... As all Americans, you had to...

What did you had to do? What did you do?

"Fuck, bruv! I can't... I can't remember shite," you said. "It's like I never went to college, bruv. What did ya do to me?"

"What ya wanted, luv," Kai replied, laughing. "Didn't ya say it? How hot ya thought us chavs were. How hot it'd be to become one of us. There's no point on complaining, mate. This is yer life now."

"That's not... It can't be true, bruv! It just can't!"

Your voice didn't sound convincing at all. It was hard not to simply believe was Kai was saying. Of course you liked the idea of being a chav. But only when it was a fantasy, when there weren't any real consequences. When you wouldn't lose everything just to embody this erotic drea..

"But it is, luv. Proper truth, I swear," Kai replied, taking a final drag of his cigarette, and then blowing the smoke towards the camera. "I can prove it, even. Try to tell me yer name. Just try. I assure ya, you won't remember it."

A smile formed on your lips. Of course you remembered your name. It was... It was... What was it?

"It's Jayden, bruv. It is now, that is," Kai said. "Suits ya. A good name for a proper chav such as yerself."

You shook your head. That wasn't your name! It couldn't be...

Yet every time you tried to remember your real name, none other appeared. Only Jayden. Your surname was different too. Something common. Something a working class lad could have that would not raise anyone's eyebrow.

"This can't be! It's not me name, bruv! I ain't a chav for real! It's the clothes, bruv! Just the clothes! I'm a smart fella! I'm American, bruv!"

It was almost worth a face palm. Until now you hadn't been able to think about removing your new clothes. You were transformed from wearing them. It was only logical that removing them would reverse the effects. Or so you sorely hoped.

Perhaps you hadn't thought about it because they were so comfortable... As if they were made for you to wear... As if it was the proper thing for you to wear... Why would you want to go back to your stuffy clothes?

No! That wasn't what you truly believed in! You had to take these clothes off. Pronto. There was no other way of returning to your original self.

"Just try, luv," Kai said, with a smirk that should be infuriating yet you couldn't help but find ridiculously hot. "Just try..."

Your hand immediately went to your pants trousers. You tried to pull them down and...

You weren't at home anymore.

In fact, you weren't even standing. Suddenly you were at the driver's seat of a car. How did you even get it in here? And when? It was so dark out. That didn't make sense. The sun was still up just a moment ago.

Kai's window showed it was night where he lived... Maybe...

No! That couldn't be it. You couldn't be suddenly transported to the UK, right? That was impossible. You were, like... How far was the US from the UK? It wasn't something you could remember, but at least you knew there was like a sea in between... Or was something else? Maybe a desert? That couldn't be right...

Bloody hell it was difficult to think!

Thankfully, the car was parked. Your level of agitation most certainly would have made you crash, otherwise. The question was: where were you? And why were you in this car?

It wasn't a nice car. Not only because it was dirty, with rubbish everywhere while also having an obnoxious cigarette smell. But also because the car looked old, and cheap. Something that had to be inherited, or bought second hand.

Looking outside, you were in the parking lot of an apartment building. Of a council state, to be precise. With a gulp, you left the car, wondering how would you get back home.

Or even if there was a home to return to.

Feeling lost, you leaned on the car. Your car, since you had the keys for it. It was locked now. It was your doing.

Not thinking about anything at all, you surprised yourself once you lighted a cigarette. Your new body was so used to the move, it hadn't required a conscious thought at all. It was almost scary.

Am I even myself? I can't recall a thing... Just Jayden, bruv... I'm just Jayden...

Such a thought made you crave the soothing feeling smoking gave. Closing your eyes, you surrendered yourself to this addiction an hour ago you would have not partaken in at all.

It felt so natural now.

"Oi! Jayden, luv! Why are ya all alone here, bruv? Let's go home, I need that mouth of yers on my prick," Kai said, standing next to you.

Kai... He was... Next to you.

That's impossible! He was in England and you... You... Where were you supposed to be? You knew you weren't British! That you weren't truly a chav! There had to be a way of...

His hand caressed your cheek. Your knees weakened, your eyes lost on the vulgar charm of his features. How handsome was he! How wonderful was he! Why would you be upset about him being close?

You were the best of mates. He was the love of your life. Shouldn't you be happy he's here with you? That he's generous enough to love you back?

"Kai..." you said, a stupid smile blooming on your face while a smirk appeared on his.

"Yes, it is me, ya dunce! Now let's go home, luv. I need yer pretty lips on my prick, not sucking a fag."

A part of you still thought about the other meaning of that last word. But as he guided you upstairs, you couldn't remember what it was supposed to be. No bother! It wasn't ike you were a smart guy, anyways. Kai probably knew. He always knew better than you did.

The apartment wasn't a surprise. Almost spartan due to how bare it looked. No decorations, minimal furniture. The only visible luxuries were a big TV, with a PS5 you and Kai were still paying with your job as binmen, as well as an old laptop with a just finished zoom call. Yet there wasn't a sofa, just two plastic chairs. There was some rubbish around, mostly boxes from takeout and used beer cans.

The bedroom wasn't any better. It was so messy. It smelled so bad... Yet how familiar and, thusly, comforting that felt! Dirty clothes everywhere, more beer cans, old gay porn magazines scattered on the floor. And the bed? Didn't have a frame. The sheets weren't properly in place.

They smelled like cum and sweat. And smoke. The best smells in the world, if anyone were to ask you!

"We're pigs," you said. It wasn't a complaint, nor a celebration. A simple statement of the facts. A declaration that felt almost too important for how simple it had been.

Kai looked at you with amusement.

"If it bothers ya, luv, ya can always act like a maid and tidy up. I'm chuffed with how things are, bruv. This is how men live proper. I won't move a finger to change a thing."

"It'd be bollocks, luv," you agreed, nodding with a dopey grin.

"So it is," Kai said, holding your face. "Now get in yer knees, and show me what that pretty mouth of yers can do."

And you did. You so did.

---

A week later, when you arrived home, you couldn't help but be remknded this hadn't always been your life. There had been a time when you weren't a dumb chav. You had been an intelligent American man, one who had dignity and a future.

That life was completely gone now. You had barely remembered it had happened this whole week. Since blowing Kai's cock that first night, you had not thought about who you used to be once. Not until now.

You should be frightened. You should be furious. You were about to be somebody, but now...

Now you're Kai's bruv. You're Kai's obedient pet. Always ready to please him, always ready to suck his huge dick (so much bigger than your own, which you loved), always ready to shag no matter the circumstance. Your ass was made to be claimed. So Kai said, and if he did, it had to be true.

Whoever you were before, it didn't exist anymore. You're now just Jayden. You always were and you always will be. Jayden, a dumb chav, destined to a life of poverty and ignorance. And a worshipful lover of Kai.

This was your biggest dream, back then. And now, it was also your truth. Until the day you died, and perhaps even beyond that.

But for now, you had to rest. The work day had been long, and you knew Kai would return. Horny and ready to use you as he liked.

You had wished for this, and you were too dumb to regret it.

[entouragestories]

Jays little boi

Ben had always played it safe. He was twenty, lean and bookish, with sharp cheekbones, a clean style, and an academic scholarship that kept his parents off his back. He was the type to keep his calendar color coded, to eat clean, to work out just enough to stay fit without bulking. Everything in his life was about balance. He wasn’t out looking for anyone to take control of him. In fact, Ben liked to believe he was the one in charge. But some part of him, (the part he barely acknowledged) craved something heavier. He just didn’t know what yet.

He downloaded a hookup app one night, not for anything serious, just to blow off steam. That’s where he matched with Jay. Jay was twenty-six and local, a shaved-headed gym lad with thick arms, heavy ink, and a profile full of grainy mirror selfies in Nike techs. No description, no bio, just a location and a smirk. It wasn’t Ben’s usual type. Still, something about the guy stuck. Maybe it was the confidence. Maybe it was the way he looked like he didn’t have to try.

They agreed to meet up. Ben dressed casual clean jeans, sneakers, a neutral tee. Nothing fancy. Jay opened the door shirtless, in grey tech fleece joggers and white TNs. A thick gold chain lay across his collarbone, and even from the doorway, Ben caught the smell of him sweat, weed, something musky and raw that hit like a slap. It wasn’t gross. It was magnetic. It made Ben’s thoughts go slow.

Jay didn’t greet him with a smile or a hug. Just jerked his head toward the living room. Ben followed, already feeling like something had shifted. They hooked up, but it was calm, not aggressive. Jay was quiet but in control, hands firm, grip confident. He kept his sneakers on the whole time white TNs, spotless, heavy. They brushed against Ben’s legs while they kissed, while they moved, and something about the weight and scent of them made Ben ache deeper than he expected.

When he left later that night, his own shirt still faintly smelled of Jay. He breathed it in on the train ride home, heart pounding for no clear reason.

They met again two days later. Jay hadn’t asked him to come he just texted his address and a time. Ben didn’t even think about saying no.

Jay had a pair of old Adidas trackies laid out on the bed, creased and worn. “Put these on,” he said, not even looking up from his phone. Ben blinked. “What, like now?” Jay glanced at him. “Yeah. You’re not wearin’ your posh little jeans ‘ere.” Ben swallowed, then nodded. The fabric was rough, slightly damp. The waistband sagged low on his hips. Jay just grinned. “Looks better on you already.”

They didn’t talk much that time. They didn’t have to. Jay pressed Ben’s face into his armpit at one point, laughing when he moaned. The smell was stronger now thick, heavy, and intoxicating. Ben left in the trackies.

The third meetup changed everything.

Ben arrived in a hoodie and jeans, but Jay took one look and shook his head. “Nah. Strip. Wear this.” This time it was a full outfit, trackies, hoodie, cap, even socks and a knockoff gold chain. “Go on,” Jay said, voice low and calm. “Just for fun.” Ben didn’t argue. He changed. Jay made him sit down in front of the TV. A video loop started. Loud grime music, flashing words: Obey. Submit. Scally. Chav. Dumb. At first, Ben chuckled, thinking it was some joke. Jay sat behind him, pressed his sneakers into Ben’s lap, and leaned in close.

“Relax, mate. Just breathe it in.”

The scent hit Ben hard. Weed, sweat, old cologne, and something deeper. Masculine. Animal. It crawled into his brain, melted his thoughts. Jay kept whispering things. “You like wearin’ that gear now, don’t ya?” Ben nodded, not even thinking. His heart was racing. His cock was hard. His thoughts were gone.

From that night on, the changes stuck.

Ben stopped changing back into his usual clothes. The trackies felt better. His reflection looked more natural. The sharp cheekbones softened. His skin tanned slightly. He stopped trimming his brows. A faint patch of facial hair began to form, scruffy, unkempt, chavvy. Jay noticed. “Gettin’ rough round the edges, yeah?” he grinned. “Good. Gotta look the part.”

Jay gave him a cap and told him to wear it everywhere. “Helps the mindset.” And it did. Every time Ben put it on, he felt himself slouch more, talk slower. His voice began to shift, the poshness replaced by a lazy, thicker accent. His workouts stopped being about leanness. Jay had him do bodyweight stuff, bulk up his arms. “Scally lads don’t skip chest day, bruv.” Ben's body responded fast. Shoulders broadened. Abs thickened. His ass filled out the trackies. His face grew plainer, but in a way that felt right. More real. More local. Jay’s scent still triggered him every time. A whiff of it made his dick twitch and his head fog over. It was a shortcut. The key that unlocked whatever Jay had started in his mind.

Soon, he stopped being Ben.

Jay started calling him Kyle. “Ben’s dead, mate. You’re Kyle now. Me dumb chav pup.” Kyle nodded, grinning. He’d started wearing Air Max 95s everywhere—Jay’s old pair, still warm from his feet. They stank. Kyle loved it. He sniffed them when he was alone. Sometimes he wore them to bed.

He stopped going to uni. Said it was “long” and “waste of time.” He told his tutor to piss off. He didn’t even remember why he cared about grades. He started showing up to Jay’s flat early, sometimes just to sit in his gear and smoke. Jay let him. Sometimes he made Kyle worship his socks while they played FIFA. Kyle would nuzzle up against his master’s foot, eyes half-lidded, stoned and hard.

Jay started making him repeat things. “Say it. Out loud.”

“I’m a dumb scallyboy.”

“I live for me Master’s sneakers.”

“I don’t need brains, just gear and your scent.”

The more he said it, the truer it became.

By summer, there was no sign of Ben. Kyle was unshaven, thick-accented, unemployed, dumb and happy. He wore the same trackies for days. His room smelled like weed, sweat, and his master’s trainers. He didn’t read books anymore. He didn’t need to. Jay had filled his head with something better. Simplicity. Pleasure. Obedience.

One evening, Jay came home to find Kyle shirtless on the couch, playing FIFA with one hand and sniffing his Air Max with the other, a mindless grin on his face.

Jay smirked and sat beside him. “You happy like this, bruv?”

Kyle didn’t even look up. Just nodded, eyes glazed.

“Yeah, bruv. Don’t wanna be no one else. Love bein’ your dumb chav pup.”

Jay put a hand on his thigh, leaned in close.

“Good lad.”

[baldandbooted]

You didn't even realize it. Everyone on the train was wearing the same trackies and TNs. It didn't even occur to you that this morning, you put on a nice suit and dress shoes to go meet your boyfriend at dinner, but now both of you are in grey sweats and white TNs with chav cuts and piercings. You knew when you get back home, all your clothes will look just like this: used streetwear. Fuck dinner, lets go out to the pub and watch some footie, bruv!

[salmonskinrolltf]

Write something triggering based on being hacked and installing the goon virus from bro to bro. Each of their transformations are different, a reflection of their deepest inner desires.

[This Quick and Dirty story was written by a human (me) based on a prompt that was previously sent to generative AI. I wrote it in one uninterrupted stream-of-consciousness flow with a hard time limit of 20 minutes. It is not perfect. No edits have been made, except to correct typos. Feel free to use my asks to send me more prompts!

For this one, I think I took a real left turn from the actual prompt, so I’m sorry if this isn’t exactly what you were looking for, anon! Oh, and thank you to @dumberswitch for providing the third image. (He has brought it to my attention that the man in said image is Australian, not English, which is actually quite obvious, but y’all, I only had 20 minutes 😵 please roll with it)]

Clayton was hanging out with his three best friends, who had just helped him move into his new apartment. They had all met the year before, during their freshman year of college, and they had bonded quickly over a shared taste in women, movies, sports, and well… everything.

They were relaxing after a tiring day, but Clayton could feel their palpable boredom, so he decided to come up with something fun to do.

“How about we each go around and say something we’re thankful for?” he asked.

Roderick sighed and said, “I’ll bite,” lowering the speed on his exercise bike so he could speak more easily. “I’m thankful I never gained the freshman 15.”

“I’m thankful for England,” said Chris, who was lying on the bed re-reading a Douglas Adams book and not really paying attention.

“I’m thankful for my pickup truck,” said John, who was peering out the window making sure his new truck was still there. It had just proven its usefulness in helping Clayton move all of his shit.

“And I’m thankful for my friends,” said Clayton. “Thanks again for helping me out today. I really owe you one.”

“Well, that was fun” said John, sarcastically. “Now what?”

Clayton racked his brains. “Oh! Why don’t I download that new app everyone’s been trying out!”

“Goonr?” asked Roderick. “The joke one that tells you your gooning style or whatever? I don’t really get it.”

“My friend Des tried it and he really got a kick out of it,” said Clayton, shrugging.

“Des is a perv,” said Chris. “But sure, why the hell not?”

Within minutes, the app was downloaded on Clayton’s phone and they all huddled around it. The loading icon finally cleared and what was revealed were the words “Friends.”

“Is that it?” asked John.

Clayton shrugged. “Guess so. At least it was free.”

Suddenly, all three of his friends’ phones pinged. They opened them to find that the Goonr app had spontaneously downloaded itself onto all of their phones.

“Is this some sort of promotion?” asked Chris. “Like that shitty U2 album that Apple put on everybody’s phones?”

One by one, the loading icons cleared. 
Roderick’s phone said “Fitness.”

Chris’ phone said “England.”

And John’s phone said “Truck.”

Simultaneously, all of their phones starting glowing white, momentarily blinding them all. When Roderick’s eyes cleared, he found that he was still sitting on the bike, blinking dazedly. “What the…” he said, before catching sight of himself in the mirror on the wall in front of him.

“Damn, I’m looking yoked,” he said, appreciatively.

He flexed his bicep. It looked big. He flexed his other bicep. It looked… bigger. Were they mismatched? He frowned and flexed the other one again. OK, it must have been a trick of the light. It bulged out properly, matching the other one.

He felt his dick stiffen in his pants. Fuck, was he making himself hard? That was embarrassing. But he was hot… He flexed his quads. Bam, bam! They bulged and grew. Fuck… He was such a stud. He lifted his shirt, admiring the six-pack abs that were bulging and growing from his flat stomach.

His dick got harder and harder. It felt like it was practically squirming. He touched it and his mind went white.

Chris’ eyes cleared next. The first thing he saw was his friend Roddy, feverishly pumping his meat while rubbing his abs and pedaling on the exercise bike. His hair looked a bit disheveled, and he had a short beard, as if he hadn’t shaved in a few days. Chris was about to panic when his attention was caught by his book, still lying open on the bed. He loved Douglas Adams so much. He loved everything English.

English literature, English culture, English food. English rugby. English beer. English girls. He even dressed English. He looked down to see his grey clothes shimmering and becoming bright yellow rugby kit.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell mate, what’s going on?” he asked. Hell, he even sounded English. Just hearing his voice turned him on so fucking much. He pulled down his shorts and started rubbing his cock, thinking about his favorite Page 3 models.

John’s eyes cleared next, revealing Roddy whacking off (again? He never stopped) and John lying on the bed, grinning.

He winked at John and pulled out his cock, beginning to wank himself off. His eyes crossed with sheer pleasure.

John averted his gaze, looking outside to see his truck. His pristine new truck, with that lovely moon roof and those Truck Nuts and all the mud on the bottom and the dents and… John felt dizzy. Was it dirtier than it was supposed to be? Was he dirtier than he was supposed to be? His hair suddenly felt greasy, as it began to lengthen and slide down his neck. He jammed his trucker cap over it to keep it contained, just as his trash stash grew in on his upper lip, nice and thick. He looked back out at his truck and thought about all the country babes he had wanted to plow out in the cornfield when he was growing up in Arkansas. His cock got hard in his pants. Would anybody mind if he…

Clayton’s eyes finally cleared, and he could see his friends. There was Roddy, feeling himself up. Pre-cum beaded at the tip of his red cock as his other hand furiously slid up and down his shaft.

There was Chris, going “oi” and “bruv” every few seconds as his spit-slick hand wanked his member. There was Jonno, shirtless (as usual) and sticking his tongue out as he beat his meat furiously.

God, they were all so hot. His friends, jerking their hogs, not a care in the world. This was all he wanted to see, all he wanted to think about, ever.

So that’s what he did. He stopped thinking about the job interview he had in the morning, or what he wanted to get for dinner, or even the fact that none of the four of them had looked quite like this a few minutes ago. All he could think about was his masturbating friends. He wanted to join them so bad. He whipped off his clothes, leaned over on the desk, and started going to town on himself, drooling as he stared intensely at the three hunks beating their meat in front of him. God, he was so thankful for his friends.

[md7tf]

Proper Mates - #3

[project013chrysalis]

AN ABNORMAL ARCHIVE. VULTURE [LEVEL 3 — RESTRICTED ACCESS]

│ NAME: "Antisocial vending machine"

│ CODE: STR-372

│ STATUS: [Active] — the location is moving within London

│ DANGER CLASS: Keter

│ TYPE OF EXPOSURE: Psi-luring + chemical-biological transformation

DESCRIPTION OF THE OBJECT

The object is a cigarette vending machine, externally identical to outdated models [DATA DELETED] that were massively installed in the UK between 1995 and 2010. The case is a faded red, with numerous scratches, marker inscriptions, and impact marks on the bottom. The glass of the showcase is cracked, the backlight inside either does not work, or randomly flashes yellow-white light. There is no information about the manufacturer or service organization on the top panel, and all serial numbers have been deleted.

The facility is not connected to the electrical network — a technical check showed that there is no power cable, but the internal mechanism continues to function independently, and the backlight and coin acceptance systems operate without an external power source. The machine accepts only coins (denominations of 50 pence, 1 and 2 pounds, depending on the brand of cigarettes). Paper bills and bank cards are not accepted, although the corresponding slots are available.

A special characteristic of the object is a powerful psi effect that begins to affect potential victims from a distance of 10 to 50 meters. The effect is expressed as follows:

The victim begins to experience a sudden, inexplicable desire to smoke (even if they have never smoked before).

The victim feels that she has coins in her pocket

The victim loses the ability to critically assess the situation.

The psi effect increases at night (from 22:00 to 05:00) and in the complete absence of witnesses nearby.

The object appears exclusively in sparsely populated places: backyards of shopping malls, underpasses, parking lots at closed pubs, dead ends of residential areas (estates), deserted alleys in industrial areas. The frequency of appearance varies: an object can stay in one place from 1 to 7 days, after which it spontaneously moves to another location within a radius of 5-15 miles.

PROPERTIES / ABNORMAL CHARACTERISTICS

After the victim succumbs to the psi effect, goes to the vending machine and makes a purchase, the transformation process starts. The machine emits a characteristic mechanical click, after which a standard pack of cigarettes appears in the dispensing tray (the brand is usually low-cost). The transformation itself begins 30-120 seconds after the victim picks up the pack.

Stages of transformation:

Stage 1: Physiological restructuring

The facial features become rougher

The skin on the face and hands becomes covered with small blackheads, peeling, and pores expand. The complexion becomes sallow.

Nails turn yellow, stable dirt appears under them (analysis showed a mixture of earth and nicotine resin)

Body odor abruptly changes to heavy, sour, with distinct notes of cheap deodorant and unwashed synthetic clothing.

Hair becomes greasy, unkempt

stage 2: Dressing room intervention

The victim's clothes are completely replaced by a typical chava outfit.:

Tracksuit (usually dark blue, grey or black, with white stripes on the sides) from cheap brands.

A massive "gold" chain around the neck (8-12 mm thick, traces of gilding on the skin).

Baseball cap or beanie hat

Shoes are replaced with dirty white sneakers (a model imitating the "Reebok Classic" or "Nike Air Max" with obvious signs of forgery).

The victim's wallet/purse is completely emptied, turning into a purse; instead of money, there are checks from bookmakers.

Stage 3: Behavioral and Speech Rewriting

The gait becomes swaggering, the shoulders lean forward, the head is slightly tilted, the gaze is aggressive from under the brows.

Facial expressions become rougher: there is a constant expression of discontent or contempt for others.

The victim acquires an obsessive need to smoke.

Speech is completely changing: complex grammatical constructions disappear, Cockney-rhyming slang appears, an abundance of obscenities and threatening constructions. The victim cannot speak his original language without a characteristic chav accent - even if he tries, the words become distorted, pronunciation becomes stringy, guttural, with swallowing endings.

Cognitive abilities do not decrease physically (IQ remains the same), but the victim is unable to use logic and intelligence in everyday life.

Reversibility: possible in the first 6 hours after transformation by forcible administration of a powerful tranquilizer, isolation from tobacco and alcohol for 72 hours, and intensive psychotherapy. The efficiency is 34% (according to 12 documented attempts). After 6 hours, the changes become permanent.

VICTIM MONITORING PROTOCOLS

3.1 OBSERVATION PROTOCOL No. 1

SUBJECT: Jackson Harris (originally 24 years old, professional athlete, middle—distance runner, height 185 cm, weight 78 kg, muscle mass, clear skin, short haircut)

CIRCUMSTANCES OF THE INCIDENT:

The subject was doing an evening jog along the route he had been using for the last 3 years. The highway passed through an industrial area in the Croydon area. At about 22:35, the subject lost his way, and later testified that he "did not remember turning into the alley." When asked why he went there, he replied:

«Dunno, bruv. Just felt like I needed a fag, yeah? I don’t smoke. Never did. But I felt it in me chest, like a proper craving. Thought I’d go mad if I didn’t get one. So I went. Saw the machine. Red one, old school. Had the cash in me pocket, innit? Two quid. Never carry cash, but it was there. Must've been a sign."

DATE OF TRANSFORMATION: 03/15/20[DATA DELETED]

PURCHASE TIME: 22:47

START TIME OF TRANSFORMATION: 22:48

COMPLETION TIME: 22:53

INITIAL OBSERVATION (4 hours after transformation):

The subject was in the parking lot of a diner with two other chavs. When he saw the agents, he showed no alarm and continued smoking. He said,

"Wot, are you too good for me fags? Bet you smoke them posh ones, with the fancy filter. You’re a mug, you are. I'll bang you out if you don't watch your tone."

PSYCHOLOGICAL ASSESSMENT (after 48 hours):

The subject demonstrates a complete split of subpersonality. He is disoriented in space, refuses to help, and clumsily apologizes for his rudeness.

additionally: When trying to run (a provocative test), the subject showed significant loss of coordination and shortness of breath after 100 meters, while responding aggressively to the remarks.

STATUS: The subject has been placed under surveillance. Long-term monitoring with periodic documentation of changes is recommended.

3.2 MONITORING PROTOCOL No. 2

SUBJECT: Harry Thompson (originally 19 years old, sports college student, workout athlete, height 183 cm, weight 75 kg, clear skin, toned physique)

CIRCUMSTANCES OF THE INCIDENT:

The subject was exercising at an outdoor sports ground in the Brixton area around 23:00. According to witnesses (other visitors to the site), Harry suddenly interrupted training, threw a bottle of water and walked away towards an abandoned warehouse. The witnesses did not attach any importance to this. Harry returned 15 minutes later, but the witnesses did not recognize him — he was wearing a black tracksuit, smoking and drinking an energy drink. The witnesses contacted the police, who sent a signal to us.

DATE OF TRANSFORMATION: 03/22/20[DATA DELETED]

PURCHASE TIME: 23:08

START TIME OF TRANSFORMATION: 23:09

COMPLETION TIME: 23:14

PHYSICAL ASSESSMENT:

The subject lost approximately 4 cm of height (from 183 to 175-176 cm). Muscle mass has decreased by 15-20%, and there is swelling of the face and limbs. Lungs are signs of initial tobacco intoxication (taking into account the fact that the subject smokes for no more than 48 hours — accelerated tissue degradation). Cardiovascular system — the indicators correspond to a person who leads a sedentary lifestyle with excessive alcohol and nicotine consumption.

BEHAVIORAL OBSERVATIONS:

Within 6 hours after the transformation, the subject smoked 2 packs of cigarettes, drank 4 cans of energy drink, came into conflict with two passers-by (verbal aggression), and tried to "borrow" money from a random passerby to buy another pack.

STATUS: The subject has been placed under surveillance. On the 3rd day after the transformation, he refused to eat, demanding "only cigarettes and energy." Forced feeding has been introduced. The forecast is negative.

DIRECTION [DATA DELETED]

3.3 MONITORING PROTOCOL No. 3

THE SUBJECT: Vincent Fraser (originally 25 years old, student of the School of Art, specializing in sculpture and ceramics, height 180 cm, weight 72 kg. Toned physique)

CIRCUMSTANCES OF THE INCIDENT:

The subject was returning from the workshop at about 11:30 p.m. He usually used the route through the park, but this time, as the analysis of his phone showed, the route changed: he turned into an industrial area, which he had never done before. The surveillance footage showed that the subject was walking with an "absent look", stopped at a red vending machine, took out coins, made a purchase and remained standing in place for 3 minutes. Then he walked away from the vending machine, sat on the curb and lit a cigarette. The camera recorded his transformation.

The initial interrogation (was conducted 12 hours after the transformation.

DATE OF TRANSFORMATION: 03/28/2025

PURCHASE TIME: 23:41

START TIME OF TRANSFORMATION: 23:42

COMPLETION TIME: 23:47

CHARACTERISTIC LINES:

"Art? What a waste of time, bruv. All those hours in the studio, chisellin’ away at rocks. For what? Now I’ve got somethin’ real. I’ve got fags. I’ve got mates. I’ve got a proper life.»

STATUS: [DATA DELETED]

CONCLUSION OF THE TECHNICAL DEPARTMENT

The STR-372 object is an anomalous vending machine with a powerful psi effect that causes victims to have an uncontrollable craving for tobacco and the subsequent total personality transformation according to the type of chav subculture. The danger level is classified as Keter due to the growing number of victims and the inability to predict the location of the object.

RECOMMENDED CONTAINMENT PROTOCOL:

Monitoring: Establish a network of observers in industrial areas and on the outskirts of London, especially in the areas of Croydon, Brixton, Lewisham and the East End. Record all messages about the appearance of "red vending machines" from 22:00 to 05:00.

Localization and physical destruction: Upon detection of an object, immediate disposal with a sledgehammer. It is recorded that the object is being restored in another location within 48-72 hours, however, this gives a temporary delay and reduces the number of victims. The use of heavy machinery (excavators, bulldozers) has shown great efficiency.

Working with victims: All identified victims are subject to compulsory hospitalization with round-the-clock supervision, isolation from tobacco and alcohol, and a course of cognitive behavioral therapy for up to 6 hours from the moment of transformation.

[END OF FILE]

[octuscle]

Employee of the Month

Martin was a typical insurance claims processor in his mid-forties. His daily routine consisted of mountains of files, endless phone calls, and the constant battle against bureaucratic hurdles. He always wore the same gray suit, had a receding hairline, and glasses that hid his tired eyes. His life was orderly but boring—a small apartment in the suburbs, evenings in front of the TV, and weekend walks in the park to clear his head.

On a rainy afternoon in February 2026, as Martin hurried through the park to get home after work, his gaze fell on something shiny on the ground. It was a plastic card, half-buried in the mud. Curious, he bent down and picked it up. It was an employee ID from the "Iron Temple Gym." The photo showed a young man with a mullet-like hairstyle and a confident grin. Name: Kevin Podolski. Born: Feb. 21, 2007. ID: 20070221KP. Position: Junior Trainer.

Martin wiped off the dirt and examined the photo more closely. The guy looked fit, athletic, with a hint of arrogance. "Poor kid, lost his ID," Martin muttered. Instead of turning it in, he slipped the card into his bag. He wasn't sure why—maybe out of pure curiosity or because he wondered what it would be like to be so young and carefree. At home, he tossed the card into a drawer and didn't think about it anymore.

The next morning, Martin felt strange. When he woke up, he sensed an unusual energy. His muscles tingled as if he'd just worked out. At the office, he sat at his desk and tried to process a damage report, but the numbers and clauses blurred before his eyes. "What was the formula for risk assessment again?" he wondered. It wouldn't come to him. Instead, an image flashed: A dingy middle school in a rundown neighborhood, where he'd hung out with buddies instead of studying. "Nonsense," he shook his head. "I went to high school."

Throughout the day, it got worse. His skin felt tighter, his voice sounded deeper, more youthful. At lunch, he stared at his plate and suddenly craved protein shakes instead of the usual cafeteria food. In the evening at home, he changed clothes and noticed that his belly looked flatter, his arms more defined. He pulled out the ID and stared at the photo. "Kevin Podolski... 19 years old." Martin was 45, but when he looked in the mirror, he saw wrinkles disappearing, hair growing—darker, longer, into a mullet.

That night, he dreamed. Not of insurance policies, but of an apprenticeship as a carpenter. He remembered the workshop, the smell of wood, the crude jokes from his colleagues. But he hadn't stuck with it—too boring, too exhausting. Instead, he hung out at the gym, pumping iron to blow off steam. One day, the manager had approached him: "Hey, kid, you're here more often than I am. Want to start as a temp? Pay's okay, and you train for free." Kevin—no, Martin—had nodded. That was his entry.

On the second day, Martin called in sick. He couldn't remember his passwords anymore, let alone insurance rates. Instead, he thought about parties in the hood, playing foosball with the bros, the feeling when the ball hit the goal. His clothes fit too tightly; he had to buy new ones—tight tank tops, sweatpants. While shopping, he felt eyes on him, and a strange tingling spread through him. He was horny, constantly. When he masturbated that evening, he didn't think of his ex-wife, but of muscular guys at the gym.

The transformation progressed. On the third day, he woke up with a six-pack. His memories of the insurance office faded like old photos. He looked around his room. For some reason, he'd expected a classic bedroom. Wardrobe, queen-size bed, a valet stand for his clothes. Shit, he must have had a bad dream. He was in his shared apartment room, the place he split with his old buddies: Mike, who was now a personal trainer, Tim the mechanic, and Alex the bartender. Back in the day, they'd played soccer together on the neighborhood youth team. Now they trained together, pumped iron, sweated, and laughed at dumb jokes. "Bro, you look like you could hit a new PR today," Mike had said yesterday during bench presses.

By the end of the week, Martin was gone. Kevin Podolski stood in front of the mirror, flashed his typical grin, pulled on his Adidas jacket, and headed to the Iron Temple Gym. He was 19, fresh, invincible. Insurance? What insurance? His life was the gym: Guiding clients, keeping equipment clean, and occasionally... well, earning a little extra. Some guys asked discreetly if he could "help" after hours. A blowjob here, a quickie there—it supplemented his salary, and hey, he was perpetually horny. Why not?

At the gym, he posed in front of the mirror, checking his muscles. His supervisor yelled across the gym that no one was allowed to train shirtless. Kevin knew he had nothing to fear. If you could show off your body, you could do it at the gym. House rules be damned. The bros from the shared apartment would come by later; they lived together in a chaotic pad, full of protein powder and sneakers. In the evenings, they'd train, maybe game a bit or just chill. Kevin remembered nothing else. That was his life—hard, horny, uncomplicated. The ID in his bag felt like it had always been there.