You can think of a few reasons why you found yourself in the audience that night. Well, really one. When you heard "Are You Smarter Than A Himbo" was putting on a show in your neighborhood, you couldn't resist. Sure, it was kind of stupid. You'd seen the clips online. They'd bring some braindead jock up on stage to flex, laugh, crack jokes, and answer basic trivia wrong. The poor idiot would laugh along as the audience laughed at him. You'd always figured the dunce was too dumb to realize they were laughing at him. But fuck, those guys were hot. So if anything, you'd get to ogle at some hot guy flexing all night and maybe get a few laughs out of it too.
"Do you think Zak's pecs are real?"
"Jason is like totally the hottest."
"I think Ryan isn't as dumb as he lets on."
"Did you know Mike is single? I can't…"
You roll your eyes at the fanfare all around you. These people were seriously into it. And then it starts.
"Welcome everyone!" You watch as a lanky man struts on stage with his hair slicked back and a wide grin on his face, "Are you ready!?" The crowd- mostly women and a few guys cheered in response, "I said: are you ready!?" You roll your eyes as the host worked the crowd, "Alright, alright… welcome." The host smiles wider, "Put your hands together for our main man!"
The host gestures toward the side of the stage and Zak strolls out with a slow, confident walk, his arms flexed as if expecting applause. He’s got thick curls falling over his forehead, and his chest is packed with muscle, tight under his white tank top. The crowd goes wild as he steps onto the platform.
“Y’all ready?” Zak shouts, raising both arms above his head. “Let’s go!” He pulls off his shirt in one smooth motion, and your eyes widen as you take in his massive pecs and perfect abs. The crowd similarly goes wild. Zak grins, flashing a perfect set of teeth, "I'm so fuckin' pumped to be here tonight! I fuckin' love you guys!"
"But Zak, I think you have something to say to everyone. Right?" The host interjects, patting the massive jock on the back.
"Yo dude yeah, for real." Zak nods, "Like, this is gonna be my last show, ya know? With the whole modeling thing blowin' up and all." The audience groans, "I know, it sucks majorly, trust me!" Zak frowns, "But like, you'll get to see plenty more of me. Trust me brahs." He winks and the crowd cheers.
The host claps, "That’s what I like to hear! Alright, let’s get started!"
You lean forward in your seat as the first audience member is brought up. It only takes a few questions for her to utterly humiliate Zak, who just laughs and flexes like the dumb himbo that he is. As the contestant returns to her seat, the host's eyes scan the crowd, zeroing in on you.
"What about you there in the blue shirt? He looks smart, right Zak? Let's get you up here!"
Initially you're shocked. You? The host gestures for you to make your way up to the stage. You can feel your heart pounding as you climb the stairs, palms feeling a little sweaty. The bright lights, all eyes on you. And as you step onto the stage, you get an up close look of Zak. His biceps bulge impressively, glistening with a light sheen of sweat. But god he smells like a wet gym sock.
"Sup bro, nice to meetcha!" Zak grins and throws a muscular arm around you, "Dude, you ready for this?"
"Aw do I sense a budding bromance?" The host grins and the crowd cheers. After settling them down, he turns to you. "You know how this works by now. Do you think you're smarter than a himbo?"
"Yeah, I think I am." You reply.
"Heh we'll see about that, bro!" Zak guffaws, "I was just goin' easy on that last chick."
"The confidence!" The host laughs, "Let's put it to the test. Your first question: Which is the only sea without any coastlines?"
You ponder for a moment. A sea without a coastline? That's... god what was that? You feel your cheeks flushing red, as you realize you don't know the answer to that. But if you don't know the answer, Zak would definitely not know either. Speaking of Zak, he's bouncing his pecs like the oversized gym bro he is.
"Is it the Caspian Sea?" You shrug, eyes still locked on his massive pecs. Of course the host shakes his head with exaggerated sadness.
"Ah, seems Mr. Smartypants here was a bit too distracted admiring the view to ace that question!" He winks at the audience, while Zak flexes.
"No shame in that, brah!"
You feel your face flush red with embarrassment as the laughter from the audience washes over you. Great, now they all think you're just another hormone-addled fool who can't string two thoughts together because of a pretty face.
"Alright Zak, a question for you now buddy!" You figure Zak is about to bomb this question anyway- round will end in a tie and you can walk away with some dignity, "What color are bananas?"
Zak scratches his head, "Dude… tricky." He chuckles, low and dumb, "So, I want to say yellow, but also green when they're not ripe. Oh but brown too if they go for too long!"
"Fantastic answer Zak! Well thought out!" The host grins as the crowd cheers, "Uh oh, looks like Zak has pulled ahead!"
The fuck kind of question was that? You look at the host and then Zak, who is doing a victory dance. The color of bananas? Of course Zak would know that- he's a fucking ape. You smirk at your own joke.
"Okay okay, let's try another one! Mr. Smartypants, are you ready to redeem yourself?" You're ready, more than ready. You're not..., "What pigments are responsible for the red color of leaves?"
Your mouth opens, but no words come out. You don't have an answer for that. Maybe you did know it, but between the flexing stud and the stage fright, you couldn't find the information.
"Chlorophyll."
"What a shame! That is not correct." He smiles at the audience, "It seems Zak may have a chance to widen his lead! Hey big guy, what day of the month is Christmas celebrated on?" It takes Zak maybe a minute or two to answer that one correctly, "Look at that folks, Zak is now up by two!" He turns to you with a grin, "Seems our guest is not much of a smartypants after all!"
Again, your face flush reds, "No worries, little dude." Zak ruffles your hair, "I uh, I got some smarts, ya know." He looks out towards the audience, "Last show brahs but first win!"
The crowd cheers and it dawns on you that you might be the first person to actually lose this stupid game. Frustration bubbles up inside you as the host and crowd continue to mock you. You're better than this, smarter than being made a fool of. Screw it, you're going to show them all up.
"I could answer every single one of those easy-ass questions he's getting," you mutter under your breath, but the mic picks it up anyway. The host's eyes light up.
"Oh ho, is that so?" He raises an eyebrow, a smirk gracing his features. "Well then, why don't you prove it, hot shot? Let's see if you can handle something a little more…your speed. Here we go bud - how does the body cool down during intense exercise like a heavy workout session?"
You chuckle. Really? This was the question? You clear your voice, "Sweating. That's how it keeps from overheating."
"Correct!"
"Woah bro, nice one!"
Yeah... that was a nice one. Finally got a question right... finally... You wince as a warmth fills your upper arms. At first it's just a gentle tingling, a warm buzzing beneath your skin. But quickly it builds to a throbbing, insistent pressure.
"What the…?"
The sensation intensifies, an intensifying heat pulsing through your upper arms. Your skin prickles and tightens as your biceps and triceps stretch against the sleeve of your shirt. It feels like the most intense pump after a grueling workout, but magnified tenfold. Your arms throbbing, aching. You feel aware of just how much more space they're taking up. And the twitching- it's incessant. Unconsciously, your arms start to rise, muscles tensing, flexing…
"Whoa…" you mutter, marveling at the sheer size and density of your upper arms, "How…?"
The host clears his throat pointedly, breaking you out of your awestruck reverie. "Ahem, moving on! Thanks for that… demonstration." He shoots you a knowing wink, a sly grin playing at the corners of his mouth. "Let's see if we can't challenge that big ol' brain of yours with another question, shall we? What does the acronym SBD stand for in powerlifting?"
"Oh brah, way too easy." Zak chides, crossing his massive arms over his muscular chest, "Even I know that one."
But your head is swimming. The powerful feeling in your arms send pleasurable waves of warmth through your body. But your mind. You're reviewing the question. Thinking it through. SBD? In powerlifting?
"SBD... SBD..." You rub your chin, unconsciously flexing your now massive bicep, "Huh... like... That's uh..."
You look over at Zak and he's making some kind of motion. A goofy grin on his face as he squats. Squats. Squats!
"Bro!" You grin, "Squats, dude! Yeah, that's what the S stands for." You grin, but the host shakes his head, "C'mon what?" You pout.
"You're still forgetting the rest." The host smiles, "And the timer is counting down."
You shuffle anxiously on your feet. You know this, right? But why would you? You're not into powerlifting. But like, it should be easy. If S stands for squats then like, wouldn't B and D also be something to do with working out? Yeah? Totally, that makes sense. But like, what else is there? What other... huh... shirt is getting kinda tight too. And fuck, you can't help but notice how warm your chest feels. Nice and warm, pressing more and more against the fabric of your shirt. Stretching it out against your big, meaty...
"Bench press, brah! B stands for bench press!" You say with a grin as your shirt starts to tear away, revealing a set of massive pecs and a chiseled torso, "Huh where'd my shirt go?" The audience cheers and you grin, staring down as you bounce your pecs.
"Excellent job, but unfortunately, you didn't finish. You missed D, you big dunce."
The host laughs, and you laugh along with him and the audience. Big dunce. Yeah that's... that's you? You pause for a second and start to feel that same embarrassment from earlier. They're laughing... not with you, but...
"Dude, can't win em all!" Zak slaps you on your increasingly wider back and you turn to him- now at eye-level, "But like, brah, you've got this next one!"
"Y-y-you th-think so.... brah?" Your tongue feels heavy, the words feel sluggish. You notice your voice sounds deeper to your ears, "I..."
"You have to focus there, smartypants!" The host interrupts, "Two more questions. Are you ready?" You nod slowly, "In a deadlift, how high are you supposed to lift the barbell before lowering it?"
"Deadlift..." Your eyes light up suddenly, "Wait, bro! The D! That's what D stands for, brah!" You say excitedly.
The whole audience laughs, as does the host. You look at him, feeling a strange sense of confusion bubbling up. Why were they laughing? What was so funny?
"Good job there, but that was the last question. We've moved on, big guy."
"Oh..." You chuckle, a grin forming on your lips as you let out a deep, dumb laugh, "Huhuhuh that was pretty stupid of me." The audience and the host laugh even louder, and you find yourself joining in, "Alright, gotta lock in, gotta... brah what was the question?"
"Dead lifts..."
"Oh fuck yeah! I fuckin' love deadlifts."
The host grins, "Yes, exactly! So tell us, when doing a deadlift, how high do you lift the barbell before lowering it?"
"Yeah... uh..." You bite your lip, thinking hard. Your fingers drum against your swollen bicep as you try to concentrate and with a sigh, lift your hands behind your head, "Oh nice..."
Your eyes lock on to your bulging bis and tris and you're momentarily distracted. But the sharp tang of your own musk drifts up from your armpits, momentarily derailing your train of thought. Fuck, you smell good. Really fucking good. But since when did you...?
"Brah, c'mon you got this." Zak says, watching you closely.
You shake your head and run a hand through your perfectly gelled, styled hair, before pausing- fuck your aesthetic is probably cooked. You awkwardly pat at your hair.
"Worry about your hair later, you've got a question to answer." The host says.
"Fuck, sorry..." You let out an awkward chuckle, "Just gotta..."
Your body moves instinctively into the proper deadlift position—back straight, knees slightly bent, hips pushed back—as if you've done this 1000s of times before. As you demonstrate the form flawlessly, a new awareness floods your lower body. Your glutes feel… alive. Heavy. Round. Perfect. You grin as you squeeze them unconsciously, feeling the dense muscle fibers contract.
"The answer is hips, bro."
"Let's fuckin' go, brah!" Zak cheers and slaps you on the ass, sending a wave of intense pleasure reverberating through your meaty glutes.
As the crowd cheers, your eyes lock on Zak. The pleasure from him slapping your ass still making you shudder. You drink him in, fixated on the prominent bulge straining against his gym shorts.
"Fuck..." You mumble- he's packing serious heat there.
Your mouth waters involuntarily as fantasies flood your mind- Zak pinning you down, those huge hands squeezing your meaty ass while he drives his massive cock deep inside you. The image of you riding his thick cock sends shivers down your growing frame, and you imagine running your tongue over every inch of his sweat-slick skin. You lick your lips and grin at the thought.
When your eyes meet again, Zak doesn't look away. Instead, his smirk widens as he catches you staring, and the few brain cells he has recognize exactly what you’re thinking. He flexes for the audience, but he turns to give you a quick wink, letting you know all that flexing was just for you... because he wants you to know he wants you too. After all, you know there's not way he could resist you either. With your... bulging pecs? Massive arms? Thick glutes?
"Wait..." You mumble. You can feel the rusting gears in your increasingly empty head turn ever so slightly, drool dripping from the corner of your mouth.
Your head was spinning, brain trying to make sense of all of it.
Something’s off, right? Like... this ain’t how it used to be. You know that. You weren’t… this. But then... what were you then, dude? Cause, like, look at you. Seriously... just look. You’re absolutely shredded. I mean, c’mon, those arms? That chest? You don’t just wake up lookin’ this jacked without bein’… well, this guy. So how could you not be you if you straight-up look like you? Right?
A dumb chuckle escapes your lips as all that thinking overwhelms and shuts down whatever last remaining brain cells you have.
The host snaps his fingers in front of your face, breaking you out of your haze. "Earth to bro, we still got one question."
"Huh? Wha-" You blink slowly, your expression vacant and slack. Drool slips down your chin as you stare blankly ahead.
"Are you smarter than a himbo?" The host grins.
"Nawww, bro, 'course not!" You reply with a big, dumb grin spreading across your face, "Can't be smarter than a himbo cuz… I AM the fuckin' himbo, bro!"
The host laughs, shaking his head, "Well folks, I guess that settles it! Looks like we've got ourselves a new resident himbo to take Zak's place. Give it up for… COLT!"
The audience erupts into cheers and applause as you beam proudly, basking in the spotlight. You feel Zak sling a muscular arm around your broad shoulders, squeezing you close.
"Dude, so fuckin' glad you're joinin' the fam, bro!" Zak enthuses, his hand drifting lower to grope your ass possessively, "Trust me bro, you're gonna love it."
Zak's strong grip on your juicy ass makes you shudder and you can tell by that grin that he's thinking exactly what you're thinking.
The host clears his throat loudly, snapping you out of your lustful stupor. "Don't forget to wave to the crowd, champ!" He gestures encouragingly towards the audience.
With a dopey grin, you raise a hand in greeting, relishing the adoration pouring in from all sides.
"Thanks y'all, this is gonna be fuckin' sick!" You call out enthusiastically, grinning like an idiot.
And as Zak digs his fingers into your massive ass, you lick your lips hungrily. The only thought in your empty head was that once this show was over, you'd be giving him a private encore performance that neither of you would forget…
The old wooden sign reading “Blackthorn Lake House” still hung crookedly from the rusted iron post at the end of the long gravel driveway, half-hidden by overgrown ivy. Joey’s truck rattled over the familiar potholes as the two men drove in silence for the last stretch. It was late May, the air thick with the scent of pine, damp earth, and blooming wildflowers. Duncan stared out the passenger window, one elbow resting on the door, his expression unreadable.
“Feels weird, doesn’t it?” Joey finally said, breaking the quiet. “Coming back here after all these years.”
Duncan nodded slowly. “Fifteen years. I still remember the last summer we spent here like it was yesterday. Mum cried for weeks after we left. She couldn’t even look at the place again.”
The house emerged from the trees like a ghost from their childhood. A large, two-story Victorian-style lakeside retreat with dark timber framing, wide verandas, and tall windows that once let in endless summer light. Now the paint was faded and peeling, the shutters on the upper floor hung at odd angles, and moss clung to the roof tiles. The garden had gone wild tall grass swaying in the breeze, rose bushes grown into chaotic thickets, and the old wooden dock stretching out over the dark water of the lake like a skeletal finger.
They parked and stepped out. The evening air was cool, carrying the gentle lapping of water against the shore. Crickets had already begun their nightly chorus.
“Still standing, at least,” Joey muttered, slinging a duffel bag over his shoulder. “Your mum never sold it?”
“Couldn’t bring herself to. It’s been in the family since my great-grandfather built it. After Uncle Richard disappeared… she just locked the doors and paid someone to check on it once a year.”
They climbed the creaky porch steps. Duncan pulled out an old key that still somehow worked. The heavy oak door groaned open, releasing a rush of stale, dusty air that smelled of aged wood, old books, and faint traces of pipe tobacco that somehow never fully faded.
Inside, time had frozen. The furniture was still draped in white sheets like ghosts. Duncan pulled one off the big leather sofa in the living room, sending a cloud of dust dancing in the golden evening light filtering through the windows.
“Jesus,” Joey laughed softly, running his fingers along the carved mantelpiece. “Look at this. We used to race Matchbox cars right here. You always cheated.”
“I did not,” Duncan protested with a grin. “You just sucked at it.”
They spent the next hour exploring the ground floor together, beers in hand. Every room triggered another memory. The kitchen where they’d made disastrous pancake experiments. The hallway where they’d slid down the banister until Duncan’s mother caught them. The study lined with dark oak shelves still filled with Uncle Richard’s old travel books, maps, and strange artifacts from every corner of the world.
Eventually they made their way upstairs, footsteps echoing on the worn hardwood. The door to the attic was at the end of the corridor, half-hidden behind a tall cabinet. Duncan hesitated for a moment before opening it. Narrow stairs led up into darkness. He flicked on the old light switch. A single bare bulb hummed to life, casting long shadows across the vast, cluttered space.
The attic was exactly as they remembered it low rafters, trunks stacked high, old furniture covered in sheets, and shelves upon shelves of Uncle Richard’s souvenirs. Brass instruments, carved wooden masks, colorful textiles, strange coins, and glass bottles from distant lands.
They sat on an old Persian rug in the middle of the floor, legs stretched out, cracking open fresh beers.
“God, we were so sure we’d end up like him,” Joey said quietly, gesturing at the collection around them. “Traveling the world. No ties. Pure freedom.”
Duncan took a long sip. “Yeah. Remember how we’d play explorers up here? You’d put on that old turban and declare yourself Sultan Joey the Magnificent. I was always your loyal adventurer sidekick.”
Joey chuckled. “We swore we’d never settle down. No mortgages, no office jobs, no responsibilities. Just passports full of stamps and stories worth telling.”
A comfortable silence fell for a moment before Duncan’s voice grew heavier. “Instead, I’m turning thirty in two days with a wedding planned, a promotion that feels more like a cage, and a spare tire I can’t get rid of no matter how many times I join a gym. Kelly’s great, but… sometimes I wonder what the hell happened to us.”
Joey stared at the floor. “Tell me about it. Cynthia’s seven months pregnant. I love her. I really do. But I’m still pouring pints at The Crown six nights a week. No degree, no prospects, just scraping by. We were supposed to be different, Duncan. We had stars in our eyes.”
They talked for a long time about the girls, the jobs, the quiet disappointment that had crept into their lives like fog over the lake. The conversation eventually drifted back to Uncle Richard.
“You know… I still think about him,” Duncan said, voice low. “Mum never talks about it. The official story was that he just… vanished. Packed a bag one night in late August and was gone. No note. No body. The police investigated for months but found nothing. Some people thought he ran off with a woman. Others said suicide. But we both know that wasn’t him.”
Joey nodded slowly. “He was the happiest person I’ve ever met. Always laughing, always planning the next trip. Remember that scar on his arm he said came from a camel bite in Morocco? Or the way he’d tell stories about getting lost in the souks of Marrakech? Who would have thought this would be his last trip…”
Duncan stood up and walked over to a particular shelf. He picked up a small, ornate oil lamp made of aged brass with intricate oriental patterns sitting on a dusty box. It looked remarkably clean compared to everything else in the attic.
"This was his favorite piece,” Duncan murmured. “He told us once that it was special. Said it had… history.” He turned it over in his hands. “Funny. After he disappeared, Mum wanted everything cleared out, but she couldn’t touch this room. Said it felt like he was still here.”
What Duncan didn’t know what no one in the family had ever known was the truth. Uncle Richard had indeed found this lamp years earlier during one of his travels. He had become its master. He had made his wishes. And when the Genie had finished granting them in his own cruel, creative way, Richard had been transformed and rewritten into a new life far from this one. The Genie had neatly erased him from this world, leaving only mystery and grief behind. The lamp had returned here, waiting patiently for the next pair of dreamers.
Joey stood up and joined him, taking the lamp gently. “Crazy to think we used to rub this thing as kids, hoping a genie would pop out and take us on adventures.” He rubbed his thumb across the surface absentmindedly while continuing to speak. “Imagine if it actually worked. We could fix everything. Get our old bodies back. Have the careers we should have had. Live the life we always talked about.”
He tossed the lamp lightly to Duncan. “Your turn to make a wish, birthday boy.”
Duncan caught it with a laugh and rubbed it as well, playing along. “Yeah, sure. Three wishes to turn our boring lives into something legendary.”
The moment his fingers completed the second rub, the lamp began to vibrate.
At first it was subtle a faint tremor. Then it grew stronger. Duncan frowned. “Joey… it’s getting warm.”
Joey stepped closer. “What do you mean warm? Let me see…”
Suddenly the brass grew scalding hot. Duncan cried out in shock and pain. “Fuck! It’s burning me!” He tried to drop it, but for a terrifying second his fingers seemed stuck to the metal. Joey grabbed at it instinctively to help, and searing pain shot through both their palms.
They finally managed to fling the lamp to the floor. It clattered loudly against the wooden boards. Both men staggered back, clutching their hands. Their palms were bright red, already blistering, the skin looking raw and angry. The pain was intense, throbbing in time with their racing heartbeats.
“Jesus Christ, what the hell was that?!” Joey gasped; teeth gritted. Tears of pain pricked at the corners of his eyes. “It felt like molten iron!”
Duncan was breathing hard, staring at the lamp on the floor. Thick purple smoke had begun to leak from its spout, swirling unnaturally, rising and twisting in deliberate patterns. The air in the attic grew heavy, charged, as if the temperature itself had shifted.
The smoke thickened, coalescing, taking shape.
A tall, powerfully muscled figure began to form bronzed skin, bare chest, sheer blue silk pants. The Genie’s eyes opened, glowing faintly, and a slow, knowing smile spread across his face.
The two friends stood frozen, pain and terror mixing as they stared at the impossible being now standing before them in the dusty attic.
The Genie tilted his head slightly, regarding their burned hands with mock sympathy. He raised one finger as if to say “wait,” and the purple smoke around him stirred again.
Then, very slowly, he began to move toward them.
The Genie stood before them in the dimly lit attic, towering and impossibly real. He was easily six and a half feet tall, with broad, powerfully sculpted shoulders and a chest that looked carved from warm bronze. His skin glowed with a healthy, sun-kissed tone. The only clothing, he wore was a pair of sheer blue silk pants that hung low on his narrow hips, the fabric so thin it revealed the heavy outline of his cock and balls with every subtle shift of his body. A faint, exotic scent of sandalwood, spice, and something electric filled the air.
Joey and Duncan pressed back against an old trunk, hearts hammering. Their burned hands throbbed with fierce pain.
“This isn’t real,” Joey whispered, voice shaking. “This can’t be real. Duncan, tell me this is some kind of fucked-up hallucination.”
Duncan couldn’t tear his eyes away from the being. “If it is, we’re both having it.”
The Genie’s lips curved into a slow, amused smile. His eyes a deep, piercing amber studied them with predatory interest. “Fear not, Masters. I mean you no immediate harm.” His voice was rich, cultured, with a faint accent that seemed to shift between languages. “You rubbed the lamp together. You freed me together. Therefore, you share three wishes. No more. No less.”
He took one graceful step forward. Joey flinched.
“Stay back!” Duncan shouted, cradling his blistered right hand against his chest. The pain was excruciating, like someone had pressed a hot iron into his palm. Blisters were already forming. Joey’s hand looked just as bad.
The Genie tilted his head, clearly enjoying their terror. “Such small injuries… and yet you tremble. How fragile humans are.” He raised his right hand slowly, deliberately, fingers spread. Purple smoke began to drift lazily from his fingertips. “Allow me to demonstrate my sincerity.”
Joey’s breathing quickened. “Don’t touch us! We don’t want anything from you!”
But the Genie ignored him. The smoke drifted toward them like living tendrils. Duncan tried to scramble backward but hit the trunk. The smoke gently coiled around both men’s injured hands without touching their skin. A strange warmth not burning this time, but soothing, almost silky enveloped their palms.
“Oh God…” Duncan breathed.
At first, nothing visible happened. The pain remained sharp. Then, very slowly, the Genie closed his eyes as if concentrating. The smoke pulsed. A tingling sensation spread across Duncan’s palm, like thousands of tiny needles dancing just beneath the surface. The redness began to fade from the edges inward. Blisters that had started to rise flattened gradually. The raw, angry skin lightened from crimson to pink, then to healthy flesh. The deep throbbing eased into a gentle itch, then disappeared entirely.
Duncan stared, wide-eyed, as he flexed his fingers. No pain. No mark. Nothing.
Joey’s healing was even slower, more theatrical. The Genie clearly wanted them to feel every second. Joey watched in horrified fascination as the blisters on his hand shrank, popped without fluid, and the skin knitted itself back together. The process took nearly a full minute. When it was done, both men’s hands looked completely untouched, as if the burns had never happened.
The Genie lowered his hand. The purple smoke dissolved. “Better?” he asked, voice dripping with mock politeness.
Duncan examined his palm under the attic bulb, turning it over and over. “How… how did you do that?”
“I am a Genie. Healing is among the simplest of arts.” He smiled again, but the expression never reached his eyes. Those eyes held centuries of cruel entertainment. “Now. You have three wishes. I suggest you use them thoughtfully. Many before you have regretted hasty words.”
Joey swallowed hard. His mind was racing. Part of him still screamed that this was impossible a prank, a dream, gas leak, anything. But the healed hands were undeniable. The being in front of them was undeniable.
He looked at Duncan. “We should just leave. Run. This thing is dangerous.”
Duncan hesitated, breathing heavily. “And if it’s real? If we actually have three wishes?” His voice dropped. “Joey… we’ve been talking all night about how we fucked up our lives. This could be our only chance.”
They stared at each other for a long moment. Fear and desperate hope warred on both their faces.
“Fine,” Joey said finally, voice hoarse. “But we think carefully. No rushing. We discuss every wish.”
The Genie crossed his powerful arms over his broad chest and waited, clearly entertained by their mortal panic.
Duncan spoke first, choosing his words with care. “Before we wish anything… what are the limits? Can we wish for anything?”
“Almost anything,” the Genie replied smoothly. “I cannot raise the dead in their original form. I cannot force genuine love where none exists. And I cannot undo wishes already granted. Everything else…” He spread his hands. “Is negotiable.”
Joey ran a hand through his hair, thinking hard. “Okay. Okay. We need to be smart.”
They sat down again on the old Persian rug, keeping distance from the Genie. For nearly twenty minutes they talked in low, urgent voices, weighing possibilities while the Genie watched silently, his smirk never fading.
Duncan went deep into his regrets. “I’ve put on nearly thirty pounds since university. I feel old. Slow. Every time I look in the mirror, I see a guy who gave up. If I could just have my twenty-year-old body back lean, strong, full of energy that alone would change everything. I could actually enjoy life again instead of feeling like I’m already declining at twenty-nine.”
Joey nodded slowly. “I get it. For me… it’s the wasted potential. I dropped out after first year. If I’d stuck with it, gotten my degree in finance like I planned… I could’ve given Cynthia and the baby a real future. Instead, I’m pouring beers and worrying about rent. I wish I had actually succeeded. That I’d become someone.”
They kept talking, circling the same fears. What if the wishes backfired? What if the Genie twisted them? They tried to add safeguards, but every condition they imagined felt clumsy.
Eventually Duncan stood up, lamp in hand. His voice was steady despite the fear in his eyes.
“I wish I had the body I had at twenty.”
The Genie’s amber eyes flashed with dark delight. He bowed his head slightly.
“As you wish.”
A faint pulse of energy passed through the attic, but no visible change occurred yet. Duncan exhaled shakily. “It… it didn’t do anything.”
“It will,” the Genie said softly. “When all three wishes are spoken.”
Joey took the lamp next. His hands were trembling. He thought of Cynthia, of the baby on the way, of all the nights he lay awake wondering how he’d provide. His voice cracked slightly.
“I wish I had gotten my degree and made something of myself.”
“As you wish,” the Genie repeated, the same hungry smile playing on his lips.
Another subtle pulse. Joey felt a strange flutter in his chest but pushed it down. He handed the lamp back to Duncan.
They stood shoulder to shoulder now, holding the lamp together. The weight of the moment pressed down on them. This was their last wish the one that had to count.
Duncan spoke carefully. “We’ve spent our whole lives dreaming about this. Travel. Adventure. Real excitement. No more boring routines. No more feeling like we settled.”
Joey finished the thought, voice firm despite his fear. “We wish for the exciting life full of travel and adventure we were always meant to have.”
The Genie was silent for several heartbeats. His smile slowly widened into something predatory and ancient. For the first time, both men felt a chill run down their spines, as if they had just stepped off a cliff.
“As you wish,” the Genie finally purred, each word dripping with satisfaction.
He raised his hand dramatically.
The air in the attic grew thick with purple smoke and electric tension. A low humming filled their ears. Both Joey and Duncan felt a strange warmth bloom in the center of their chests pleasant at first, then rapidly intensifying.
They looked at each other, eyes wide with a mixture of apprehension and exhilarating hope. For a short moment, they felt like they were on the edge of the greatest adventure of their lives. They had found the long-lost spark that animated their hearts and days.
In front of them, the genie was standing straight, a malicious smile covered his tanned cheeks and with a sweet movement of his wrist and fingers, he snaped.
Purple smoke exploded outward like a living storm, choking them in thick, electric heat. Joey gasped in surprise first shortly followed by an intense sensation of discomfort followed by pain as the agony ripped into his legs.
“AHHHHHHH THE FUCK IS THAT!!! IT HURTS! MAKE IT STOP!” His thighs and calves shattered and swelled violently, bones lengthening with wet cracking sounds while powerful new muscle tore through his flesh. He collapsed to his knees as his feet followed, toes breaking and stretching, arches rising painfully as his shoes split apart.
Joey tried to look around with the hope to see his friend ready to help him or the genie about to snap his fingers again to cancel this clearly bad outcome of their wishes but he saw nothing, only purple glittery smoke bocking everything from his view.
“HELP ME!” He screamed one more time with the hope of finding help but he only heard a villainous laugh back in return echoing through the smoke and mist and coming back to his ears.
What has been granted cannot be taken back, master…
Duncan roared in terror as well. In the blink of an eye, the attic was gone and now all he could see was purple smoke all around him. He could still feel the wooden floor under his shoes but he couldn’t even see it.
“Joey! Joey, are you alright? Where are you?! JOEY!!” he creamed for his friend feeling the anxiety skyrocketing through his veins. “JOE… AAAAHHHHHH!!” his sentence was cut short as he felt a rush of heat followed by pain of breaking bones crashing through his legs.
Joey could feel his legs ballooned next, muscles exploding with brutal force far beyond anything from his youth.
The Genie hovered closer, smiling with dark amusement. “Begging already? How precious. This is only the beginning, Masters…” his voice echoing to both of them through the smoke.
The burning surged upward. Both men gasped and screamed as their chests expanded with sickening pops. Ribs widened, pectorals ballooning into thick, heavy slabs of muscle that stretched their skin painfully tight. “It’s breaking me apart!” Duncan howled. “Please… make it stop!”
Coarse dark hair erupted in their armpits as fresh sweat glands activated, flooding the attic with a thick, pungent masculine musk, heavy testosterone and raw male sweat. A dense treasure trail raced up from their groins, spreading across their newly carved abs and fanning over their swollen pecs.
Joey whimpered brokenly, “I can’t… I can’t breathe… please…” as he was feeling his overheating body starting to shut down and his vision blurring darkly because of his restarting nervous system and rearranging organs.
Duncan was crying and screaming in pain as he could feel his limbs starting to spasm on their own, muscles activating by forced electric signal sent by his brain drowning in a cocktail of hormones. He could feel his heart beat in each of his cells and could hear the sound of his pumping heart. Duncan was starting to dissociate when he heard the genie snap his fingers one more time. Out of nowhere, he felt his senses coming back to him as he heard the genie talk directly in his brain.
“We don’t want you to miss the best part of the show, do we?”
Out of nowhere, Duncan felt blood coursing through his body in one central position as he could feel his cock straining his jeans and getting trapped against his muscled and hairy thighs.
His cock surged forward with vicious intensity, thickening and lengthening into a massive uncut cock and with one more spasm from his un-controlling body and pumping heart, his cock contracted and torn apart his fly as he felt it slap hard against his hard rock forming abs. in the blink of an eye, it started to feel active and soon he could feel precum pumping out of his urethra and slushing all around his hairy abs.
Joey could feel changes happening to him as well. He was screaming in pain and fear as he could feel his cock straining against what was left of his Calvin Klein underwear. He could feel his heart beat in his hardening cock head as he could feel his foreskin starting to tighten around it because of the pression caused by his blood system. He could feel his nuts pulling lower and lower as sperm started to be product in huge proportions. His cock head was starting to look downward because of its weight and now was permanently bent down and slightly on the left side because of his left ball which were bigger than the right one.
“Please…. Stop, thi… iis” Joey said as he could feel his throat starting to heat up shortly followed by his chin and whole face. His features twisted in agony as his jaw sharpened, cheekbones rose, and his eyes tilted.
“HHAAAAaaAaaAaaaAAaaa… UUUHHHHhhhhHHHhH “screamed Joey as his voice cracked and shattered mid-scream, shifting into a younger, melodic tone thick with a heavy Arabic accent.
“MAkE iT stoP!!” Joey screamed one more time as his voice settled for a younger one.
Duncan’s own face hardened into something rugged and commanding, heavy stubble exploding across his jaw while a thick mustache appeared above his upper lip.
“What is happening?!” he screamed as his voice dropped into a deep, authoritative baritone.
“You two already sound way more in character!” said the genie to himself as he could see the possibilities opening for both of his masters in front of his eyes, appearing and disappearing in the purple mist.
Joey was still crying in fear and pain, his knees still on the ground when he felt the heat coming back.
“GOD NO, NOT AGAIN… PLEASE!!” the heat continued to climb and hike all around his tightened skin, leaving behind a rich golden-bronze hue, turning his skin into smooth coffee-toned perfection while Duncan’s deepened into a reddish sun-bronzed, powerful athletic glow.
Joey was crying as he could see his transformed and tanned hands in front of him, no sound coming out of his mouth because even the sound of his voice was terrifying to him now.
Creeping behind him, he heard the low baritone voice of the genie once again and felt chills running up his elongated spine.
“Something is missing… I don’t see your character fully… But what is it…” the genie continued as Joey turned around trying to face him and thinking that maybe if he did, he would be able to beg him face to face to turn him back but when he did, he saw nothing except the purple void.
“Found it!” he heard once again coming in front of him.
Joey’s eyes opened wide as he saw the genie materialized in front of him and with the flick of his wrists, he felt his torn clothes disintegrate into glitter that swirled in the mist.
Joey was hoping to see the kind face he saw when the genie first appeared to them but all he saw was the manly face wearing a vicious smile.
The genie opened his hands and Joey could feel pressure building in his dick.
“What are you doing?” He asked shaking in fear of what was about to happen.
“Please tell me, what are you do… AAAAHHHHHHH” The genie reached down and roughly seized Joey’s foreskin still covering the head of his enlarged new cock. Joey’s eyes widened in pure panic.
“No! No no no… IT’S GONNA BREAK, STOOOOO!!!” he screamed.
Duncan stared in horror and fear as he could hear the deep accented voice of someone echoing back to him, slightly muted by the mist hugging his modified body. He could feel his body continuing to spasm on its own without him having any control on it. He could feel his dick exhaling drops of precum with every heart beat, smashed against his hairy abs and leaking along his muscled thighs.
The Genie turned his back to Joey and smiled as he saw Duncan was still lost in the haze of his hormones and sensations while continuing to tear on Joey’s foreskin.
“I’m begging you… Please… Stop teari…”
SCRATCH
With one flick of his wrist, the genie torn out the foreskin as it detached in a snapping motion, releasing Joey’s cock that flopped back down against his legs, pointing downwards. His cock head now fully uncovered and extremely sensitive as he could feel the particles of purple dust touching his extremely sensitive skin. Joey was crying in fear as he realized the pain was completely gone.in fact, in a couple of second, all sensations were gone. It felt like his nerves had been numbed by years of frictions and movements against his now hardened cock head. He looked down and realize a neatly crafted scar was circling the base of his cock head.
He tilted his head back up to the genie as he watched the genie looking with a smile at the palm of his hand.
“Why have you done that… What have you done to me…” Joey continued to ask in a febrile voice.
The genie didn’t even look at him. He just continued to smile as he grabbed back his thick veiny cock in the palm of his left hand.
The Genie held the twitching piece of foreskin in his palm, exhaled a stream of purple smoke over it. The piece of foreskin started to levitate and rotate faster and faster in the palm of the genie. Joey could start to feel like his cock head was getting jerked off even though no one was touching it. The faster the foreskin went, the more he felt he was on the edge of cumming.
Joey tilted his head back up with almost out of breath as he could feel the orgasm rushing to him and his mouth barely open to let his breathing flow out.
The genie was looking at him and with a quick movement, he closes his hand on the foreskin.
Joey could feel pressure building in his groin as it felt like he was getting jerked off faster and faster.
Then as he was about to cum, his eyes starting to revolve inside his skull, the genie opened his hand again and all the sensations were gone, leaving Joey out of breath on the edge of orgasm.
In the palm of his hand, the foreskin was gone, reformed as a shiny golden loop earing with a blue sapphire on it.
Joey didn’t understand any of what happened, his brain still trying to function properly as it still was lacking oxygen from the forced edging session.
“What was that… what have you… done… Where is it…” Joey asked out of breath but the genie never answered, he just snapped his fingers and suddenly the golden foreskin earing disappeared in shimmer. Instantly, Joey felt a pressure building on his left lobe as he could feel it heating up with a pinching sensation.
joey was left flabbergasted, not understanding any of what just happened and what happened to his foreskin. He tried to look around, maybe catching his reflection in a shiny surface or something, but he didn’t see any of it. All he could feel was the cold wind on his numb cock head and the sensation of something dangling from his ear.
The Genie laughed softly, stroking his own massive erection. “I knew something was missing, master… now you look exactly like you should have, ready for your next big adventure.”
The genie took a step back and snapped his fingers one more time. Both Duncan and Joey felt like a weight had been lifted from their shoulders and like they could breathe again for the first time since the mist invaded their lungs.
As the two men collapsed, gasping and twitching in their new bodies, their old clothes finished to dissolve away. They stood there naked and, on the ground, as they could see the mist starting to fall to the ground and with them changing the dusty attic into a new room. Something with white industrial lights handing from the rooves. Then tiles started to appear on the walls soon followed by the ancient wooden cabinets turned into metallic lockers covered with stickers and grim.
as the mist finally reach their heads, new clothes started to shimmer into existence around their transformed bodies. A tight pair of black sport shorts for Duncan and a fitted V collar T-shirt with a black baseball hat. Then a pair of well used white trainers and high sport socks appeared on his bigger feet.
On Joey, a white jockstrap appeared on his body, forcing his cock to look downwards again, now fully entrapped inside the cotton prison and almost nudging against his own ass hole. The pouch being extremely prominent. Then a pair of tight-fitting black soccer shoes appeared on his tanned musky feet as socks finished to materialized against his legs climbing up to his knees.
The Genie kept lazily stroking his enormous, throbbing cock, veins pulsing under his bronze fingers as he watched the two broken men on the floor. His smile widened with sadistic pleasure.
“Look at you both… already so pretty in your new skins.” He then grabbed Joey by his thick, dark hair and yanked his head forward. “Open up, stud. Time to taste your new reality.”
Joey tried to pull away, eyes wide with terror. “No! Please don’… I’m not… I won’t…!” But the Genie’s grip was iron. He slapped his heavy, leaking cock against Joey’s plump new lips, smearing sticky precum across them.
“That’s it… fight me. I love when masters start to realize I am the one holding the cards.” The Genie laughed, low and cruel, then forced the thick head past Joey’s resisting lips and deep into his mouth. Joey gagged violently, eyes watering as the massive shaft stretched his throat. The Genie held his head in place and began thrusting with slow, deliberate strokes, fucking his face with relish.
“Mmmph! Mmmghh!” Joey’s muffled screams vibrated around the Genie’s cock. Tears streamed down his bronzed cheeks as he choked and drooled.
The Genie groaned in pleasure and taunted him between thrusts. “Yes… just like that. Suck it, stud. This is what your exciting new life tastes like. Keep crying… I love how your throat squeezes when you panic.” He laughed again, deep and mocking, pushing even deeper until Joey’s nose pressed against his hairy musky shimmering pubes.
After several long, brutal minutes of face-fucking, the Genie’s balls tightened. “Here it comes, boy. Drink every drop like the good little whore you’ve always been.”
With a loud, satisfied roar, the Genie came hard. Thick, glowing ropes of purple-tinged cum flooded Joey’s mouth and throat. Joey thrashed, desperately trying to pull back, but the Genie held him firm while laughing in pure pleasure. “Swallow it all. That’s it… good boy.” Joey continued to resist, gasping for air as he could feel cum rushing directly in his stomach. A weird feeling invading his throat and mouth as it felt like his tongue was numbing a bit.
After a couple of minutes frozen like that, the Genie slowly pull his still rock-hard cock free with a wet pop. Joey immediately tried to scream for help and gasping for air.
“Air, I need air…. Huuuuuuuuuu. I couldn’t breathe…” But the words that came out were completely different: “هواء، أحتاج إلى هواء... هووووو ...!”
His eyes widened in pure panic. He clutched his throat, trying again. “What the fuck?! Why can’t I speak English?! WHAT THE FUCK!!” Only fluent, desperate Arabic poured out: “يا إلهي! لماذا لا أستطيع التحدث بالإنجليزية؟! يا إلهي!”.
No matter how hard he tried, English was completely gone. He kept repeating frantic Arabic pleas, voice cracking with rising hysteria.
“أرجوك… أعدوني! أنا لا أريد هذا!” (Please… change me back! I don’t want this!)
Duncan stared in the distance, his head still spinning and still feeling dizzy from the smoke leaving his older lungs, taking more time to regain his senses.
“Joey? Are you ok? Where are you, where are we?! What happened to us...”
The Genie turned away from Joey’s sobbing of incomprehension. He took a look at Duncan and with a happy smile of work well done, he snapped his fingers.
Duncan suddenly gasped, clutching his head as memories began flashing violently before his eyes. Kelly smiling at him on their first date suddenly appeared clearly in front of his eyes, he felt like reliving this moment in the smallest detail but as his lips left her, he opened his eyes only to realize Kelly was now burning from his memories as in her place stood a very muscled Latino athlete looking at him with eyes full of admiration and hungriness. He couldn’t understand what happened or why that happened, suddenly he blinked and he was no longer on a bench in the park but instead in his living room with his computer on his laps, Kelly hugging him as they were planning their honeymoon, the house they wanted to buy, lazy Sunday mornings together… One by one they ignited and disintegrated. In their place, new memories flooded in with brutal clarity: the thrill of sneaking young athletes into hotel rooms during tournaments, the wet sound of tight asses stretching around his thick cock, the addictive taste of sweat and submission, the roar of stadium crowds mixed with moans in locker room showers.
“No… no, stop!” Duncan screamed, voice breaking.
“Kelly! Stop that please… KELLY!! I … I… Get out of my head! That’s not me… I’m not… I want to marry her… I love her… I… love her? Fuck… I love… her tight… No that’s not me, STOP IT!!! I love… his… ass? I LOVE FUCKING ASS!! NO Please… don’t…. do this…. Kelly… I love…” He fell to his knees as more of his old life was ripped away. The memory of proposing to Kelly burned to nothing and was replaced by the image of him balls-deep in a muscular exchange student after a late training session. Every time he tried to cling to who he was, another piece turned to ash. His personality was shifting, getting confidence, dominance, and an insatiable hunger for male bodies overwriting his old shy, settled nature.
“Please… I don’t want this… I’m Duncan, I’m not…” His resistance grew weaker as the new identity took root. Suddenly a new memory appeared in flashing color in front of his eyes, a new name appeared and engraved itself in his brain. Noah. He is Noah, he has always been and always will be. He is the coach, Noah. The traveler. The predator who lived for the next tight hole and the next victory.
The Genie watched with dark delight, lazily stroking himself again. “Welcome in your new life, master Duncan.”
The man who used to be Duncan, now fully Noah, stepped up as his manly hands caressed his hairy pecs, a dominant smile appearing on his cheeks as he took his first step into his new life, his cock rock hard and pressing against the front of his shorts, leaving nothing to imagination. He took another step and suddenly Joey heard the Snap echoing again. Suddenly, he felt his body starting to levitate from the wet musky tiled floor to the seat of a wooden bench that had seen thousands of athletic asses through the years.
Joey tried to resist but his body was completely immobilizing by the purple magic controlling and positioning him, his legs then were positioned up, giving free access to his tight hole.
Joey tried once again to scream for help but was still in incapacity to talk anything else then Arabic. He heard the genie laugh as he saw Duncan getting closer and closer to him, positioning himself between Joey’s forcibly spread legs.
His thick, veiny uncut cock throbbed angrily, already drooling precum onto the boy’s smooth, tight hole. Joey’s heart hammered in terror.
“Duncan, please don’t do this. We are friend, remember about Kelly. No don’t please, DON’T!!” he begged in fluent Arabic, voice shaking.
“أرجوك... هذا ليس أنت! أنا جوي! توقف!!!” (Please… this isn’t you! It's me, I’m Joey! Stop!).
Noah didn’t understand a word. He just grinned, spat on his cock, and pressed the fat, leaking head against Joey’s virgin entrance. With one brutal thrust, he forced half his massive length inside. Joey screamed, back arching off the bench as his hole was violently stretched open.
“AAAAAH! ألم! أرجوك توقف! إنه يؤلمني!” (It hurts! Please stop! It hurts so much!). Noah groaned in pleasure and kept pushing deeper, inch by thick inch, until his heavy balls rested against Joey’s ass. “Fuck… so goddamn tight. This Moroccan bitch was made for cock.”
Joey’s eyes rolled back as Noah started fucking him with long, powerful strokes, each one slamming harder than the last. The wet, obscene sound of skin slapping skin filled the locker room. Joey’s heavy circumcised cock bounced uselessly against his abs, leaking despite his horror.
Suddenly, Joey noticed movement above them. The Genie hovered near the ceiling, lazily stroking his own enormous cock and watching with cruel delight. Their eyes met. The Genie smirked, raised his hand, and snapped his fingers.
In that instant, the Genie’s form disappeared in shimmer. Then Joey saw from the corner of his eyes the air near the lockers next to the door starting to move and agitate. He then saw the genie’s silhouette appear and stated to melt and shrink, transforming into a tall, muscular young athlete with short black hair and a cocky grin. At the same moment, the locker room door swung open.
Captain Josh and four of his teammates walked in, already half-hard in their shorts thanks to the very intensive training and the overdose of testosterone and horniness running through their veins.
The newly-transformed Genie simply stepped forward and joined them, laughing with them all like he had always been a part of the group. No one else noticed anything strange and then even started to laugh back and talk like they truly know each other from years of practices and friendship.
“Coach! you already started without us?” Josh laughed loudly. “Look at Ahmed. Little slut can’t even wait.”
The players quickly stripped, tossing their clothes aside. Thick, hard cocks sprang free. Joey tried to plead with them, eyes wide with panic.
“أرجوكم، أتوسل إليكم، يجب أن تساعدوني. أنا لست أحمد، أنا جوي، لدي حبيبة وسأرزق بطفل قريبًا. أريد العودة إلى بيتي، ساعدوني، أرجوكم!!” (Please I’m begging you, you have to help me. I am not this Ahmed, I am Joey, I have a girlfriend and soon a baby boy. I want to go back home, Help me, please!!!).
The players just chuckled, not understanding a single word that came out of Joey’s mouth. One of them then took a step forward, his thick veiny cock in hand as he lazily jerked off. Joey opened tilted his head only to realize it was the genie now in the jock’s body.
“أرجوك لا تفعل ذلك، لا أريد هذه الحياة، لم أتمنَّ ذلك... مممم ...” (Please don’t do that, I don’t want this life, I didn’t wish for that… mmMMMmmGGgMGgggGG) Joey couldn’t even finish his words as the genie grabbed Joey by the hair and shoved his thick cock straight into the boy’s pleading mouth, cutting off his words. “Shut the fuck up with that Arabic shit,” he laughed. “Good little cumdump doesn’t need to talk.”
Everyone roared with laughter as they surrounded him. “Let’s go guys, we have a tanned bitch to fuck!” Josh mocked while lining up his cock at Joey’s already-stuffed hole alongside Noah’s.
“Maybe you’ll start to pick some words up after taking so much American cream!”.
They descended on him without mercy. Noah and Josh double-penetrated his ass, stretching him brutally wide while two others took turns fucking his throat once the genie was done with him. Hands roamed over his sweat-slicked bronze body, slapping his ass, pinching his nipples, and constantly tugging on the golden earring. Every pull sent humiliating jolts of forced pleasure through his cock.
“Fucking perfect exchange student,” one player grunted as he hammered into Joey’s throat. “Came all the way from Morocco just to be our team bitch.”
“Bet his family would be so proud seeing him like this,” another laughed. “He truly lives his American dream!”
Joey could only sob and gag around the cocks in his mouth, tears streaming down his face. “مممغhhh— أرجوكم… أنا لست مثل هذا… أريد Cynthia… أريد طفلي…” (Please… I’m not like this… I want Cynthia… I want my baby…). None of them could understand him and they didn’t care. They just kept using him harder, rotating positions, filling every hole, painting his bronzed skin with sweat and spit.
After what felt like an eternity of relentless pounding, the Genie still wearing the jock identity saw that Joey was on the edge of losing himself, his cock played with like a joystick by the one currently fucking him. He felt like he was on the edge but never close enough so he could be forced to cum.
The genie then grabbed the athlete that was hard fucking Joey by the shoulders and tapped his scapula as he asked for him to give him the space so he could finish inside the bitch.
The athlete laughs and then took his cock out of Joey’s opened ass.
“أرجوك... لا أستطيع فعل ذلك بعد الآن... أرجوك...” (Please… I can’t do …that, anymore… Please…).
Once again, Joey was cut short as the genie got his mouth closer to his ear and murmured.
“I hope you’ll enjoy your new life, Master!” Suddenly, he grabbed the earing between his calloused fingers and Joey felt like someone was directly playing with his cockhead and whole length. It felt like he was getting jerked off by the most delicate hand ever, it felt like he was getting sucked by the warmest mouth. His breath started to path faster and faster as he we slowly losing his sight, invaded by a pure feeling of pleasure. In front of his blurring vision, the genie smiled as he started to fuck him faster and faster, enjoying the view of Joey slowly losing his grip on reality and falling into dissociation.
With one more thrust of his cock deep against Joey’s prostate and a pinch of the hearing, the genie came hard and deep inside Joey’s welcoming hole, and as he did, Joey felt the orgasm finally rushing past the point of no return as he could feel his length starting to contract and in an instant, starting to release the only trace of his Britannic DNA.
A devastating orgasm ripped through him. His circumcised cock exploded hands-free, shooting thick ropes of cum across his own chest and abs while every muscle in his body spasmed around the cocks buried inside him.
In that exact moment, his mind shattered and reformed.
Memories burned away in purple fire: the old house at Blackthorn Lake… the summers with Duncan… proposing to Cynthia… the ultrasound pictures of their unborn baby boy… nights at the bar dreaming of travel… all of it turned to ash. New memories flooded in to replace them, a sun-drenched childhood in Morocco, arriving in Huston at 21 as an exchange student, struggling with English, quickly discovering he was gay and addicted to getting fucked and used like the sextoy he truly was. The endless locker room sessions, the hotel rooms during away games, the thrill of being passed around by the team. He was Ahmed now. A 21-year-old power bottom who lived for cock, especially Coach Noah’s and his teammates’. English was hard for him, but his body spoke fluently.
When the orgasm finally faded, Ahmed blinked slowly, a slutty, satisfied grin spreading across his cum-covered face.
“Coach Noah…” he moaned in heavily accented English; voice hoarse but eager. “المزيد... مارس الجنس معي بقوة أكبر، من فضلك...”.
The players laughed and kept going, knowing their favorite cumdump was ready for another round.
Coach Noah was waiting behind them, his arms crossed as he felt his cock jump in anticipation knowing he would require a private session with Ahmed later on in his office. Only Ahmed and him.
In the months that followed, Noah and Ahmed lived the exciting life full of travel and adventure they had wished for so desperately in that dusty attic.
They flew from city to city, country to country, following the demanding schedule of international university tournaments. New hotels every week. New locker rooms. New opponents, and new teammates, eager to celebrate victories deep into the night.
Noah’s powerful 6’3” body, thick with muscle and commanding presence, was everything Duncan had once dreamed of and more. He thrived as the dominant, respected coach who lived for the game… and for bending young athletes over whenever the mood struck him.
Ahmed, the 21-year-old Moroccan exchange student, had become the star attacking midfielder everyone wanted. He had gotten his degree in the form of a sports scholarship and was well on his way to making something of himself and his life, at least on the pitch and in the bedroom. His bronzed, athletic body and eager, talented hole made him the team’s favorite power bottom. He barely spoke English, but he didn’t need to. His body communicated perfectly.
Every night after training or matches, Ahmed found himself exactly where he now belonged: legs spread wide, moaning sluttily in Arabic and broken English as Coach Noah and the boys took turns wrecking him. The golden earring made from his former foreskin remained his most sensitive spot, one playful tug and he would cum hands-free, shaking and begging for more like the perfect cumdump he had become.
All that remained were sun-soaked memories of Morocco, the thrill of arriving in Huston, and the addictive rush of being passed around by his coach and teammates. He was happier than he had ever been, a gay, cock-hungry 21-year-old who lived for the next load and the next victory.
The wishes had been granted and they would finally live the lives they craved for.
They no longer remembered Cynthia and Kelly.
They no longer remembered the baby and their bored lives.
They no longer remembered Duncan, Joey, the attic, or the terrified man they used to be.
High above, safely tucked away in the ornate brass lamp that now rested on Coach Noah’s office desk, the Genie leaned back in his lamp with a contented sigh. Once known as Uncle Richard many decades ago, he had learned this lesson the hard way himself after wishing for a life full of magical adventures and being able to help people while having a long and joyful life full of pleasure and happy moments. Now he made sure others learned it too, slowly, thoroughly, and without mercy, one wish at the time.
I hope you’re having an amazing day! This is the story you guys voted for, with a little twist from my side. I had a blast writing it, and I think this one might be one of my all-time favorites to this day.
Thank you so much to everybody who voted in the poll, and thank you so much to @bremenmask for sending me this ask. I really appreciated it, and I hope you’ll enjoy it as much as I did writing it.
This story officially marks my first step into my thirties, and I hope they’ll be just as good as the previous decade. I want to thank all the friends I’ve made along this journey, and I can’t wait to meet new ones.
To everybody who has sent me kind messages, please know that even if I don’t reply to all of you, I read everything, and I love interacting with you as much as possible. So please continue to send me messages if you want to talk about ideas or simply if you feel lonely :)
A huge thank you as well to @mystrangetfs for his very useful help in brainstorming and putting this story together, especially for helping me create and find the pictures.
I can’t wait to hear your feedback, and I hope you’ll appreciate this story as much as I do.
When I met him he was the picture of innocence. Clean shaven. Well spoken. He went to church every Sunday. He thought that the little tattoo he had gotten one drunk night in for $25 in Vegas was a scandal. His girlfriend was the love of his life. He was shopping for a ring. That all changed when he bumped into me. I saw a man who was so lost, he had convinced himself he was happy. I saw a man repressed and yearning to let go of it all and start over. I saw a man I could break and rebuild.
It was so easy to just “keep bumping into him.” To familiarize himself with me. After a week he had my phone number. After two he was texting me regularly. I listened to his hopes, his dreams, nodding along, knowing that they were worthless to him soon. Then he came over to my place. I would ply him with a little booze and let his mind adapt to me. My scent was making him woozy at first. He blamed it on the beer, but couldn’t ignore the feelings he was having as I wrapped my arm around him. I joked at his cock getting hard. He blushed with shame, but didn’t leave. He knew he was safe with me now.
By the third time he came over I knew it was time. As he sat on my couch, he didn’t even blink as I took off my shirt. He complimented my body.
“I don’t usually love how tattoos look, but they really suit you. They look really good with your muscles.”
That was all I needed to know it was time. I leaned in close, shifting our position so I was nearly on top of him. His eyes grew wide. I let my hand graze his growing hard on. He was so cute when he still had shame. I handed him a pair of glasses I had picked out special. Told him to try them on. He didn’t hesitate. And it was over for him.
Instantly the spirals kicked in front of his eyes, as the bone conducting speakers in the arms came to life. It was moments before he started whining and whispering. Saying he didn’t understand. He didn’t want this. But as I positioned him right under my ripe arm pit, licked at his smooth chest, and stared playfully fondling his fat balls, the whispering was replaced with moans. And as I slowly shifted from rubbing his crotch to full on stroking it, the moans gave way to drool. He was ready to give it all up. To give in. It was time to finish his mental transformation.
I ordered him to my bedroom. I told him to strip naked. I told him to worship me. He complied with every order. He shoved my socked foot right into his face, licking at the thin layer of fabric separating himself from his master, filling himself with my scent. I lifted my arms and like a moth to a flame he began huffing and slobbering on my pits, cleaning them better than they had been in months. As I lifted his face out and sloppily made out with his blank, obedient face, I let his tongue slip into my mouth and savored my first real taste of him. His mouth tasted of my cheap beer and something faintly sweet. I knew the flavor of intense brain asphyxiation.
By now his neuron receptors were shutting down, simplifying in their logic. Everything that didn’t fit was being drooled right out of his stupid face. My words slipped right in as though they were his own thoughts. You would look so sexy if you started working out. You want to look sexy for me. You should get a few more tattoos. Let me pick them out. It feels right to let me use your body as my canvas. It makes me happy, and you want to make me happy. You love worshipping your master. It is better to be owned. His scent has marked you, so you are his to control. You get rock hard with your nose pressed against the sources of your master’s scent. Here I flipped over and presented my furry, sweaty asshole to him. The smell immediately drew him in. His inexperienced tongue lapped at my slit as his nose was filled with my strongest pheromones. Assisted by his drool and my grinding, I myself let go of a faint moan. But that’s all he needed as encouragement to double down as he explored with his tongue, eager to please his reason for existence. But I couldn’t let that be the end. There was one more release I needed to give my new toy. As I repositioned myself I gave him one last command. You love to cum in me. He automatically lifted my legs and lined up with my sloppily eaten out hole. He was only to happy to oblige.
It has been a few months now. As his muscles grow and fill in, his stubble turned to a beard, and his tattoos stretched across his body, he grows ever more devoted. His eagerness to please makes him excel even where experience was lacking. But experience comes with time, and while he may be a slow learner now, he takes direction very well. And without an inhibitor left in his life, the only limits may be my imagination. And lately I have been imagining a lot. If one ruined life can be so much fun to toy with, why not see what two can do?
Hey, I am a scrawny white guy stuck in the middle of Midwest America. It is really cold right now. What I wouldn't trade to be somewhere warm and sunny. Maybe be another ethnicity
Shivering as you slid deeper underneath the covers, you let out a soft sigh as you felt the cold air nip at your toes. While you were used to cold, frosty winters, this season seemed particularly brutal. Even with the heaters turned on, you could only toss and turn underneath the covers in some desperate attempt to warm yourself enough so you could fall asleep. But sleep didn’t seem like it was coming for you any time soon, and you weren’t exactly eager to pass the time counting sheep.
Reaching over towards your nightstand, you picked up the VR headset your friend lent you for the weekend. He was originally planning to return it to the manufacturer, citing a weird electrical problem and glitchiness that was messing up his gaming experience. But since you didn’t have your own VR set, he offered to let you play with his for the weekend. Your friend had been raving about this new RPG where you could customize your own avatar and build up a fictional person for yourself. The game boasted of being a fully immersive experience, to the point that users could control themselves without even moving in real life. It was the perfect thing for you to play while you huddled under your blankets to stay warm. According to your friend, there was a weird glitch making the game “unplayable,” but there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with the device itself.
As you slipped on the virtual headset, you selected the game to load up. The icon art seemed really simple and silly, showcasing a crudely drawn picture of a sunny day, a palm beach, and some ocean waves. The game was listed as Spring Break! A Vacation Getaway, with a tagline that promised to “whisk you away to paradise!” Snorting a bit to yourself at the basic premise, you tapped through to set up an avatar. Unfortunately, it seemed as though there was no option to customize your own avatar, as each character was uniquely linked to a device. The option for a new game or a new character was greyed out, and there was no other option but the avatar your friend had already built for themselves.
You sighed as you selected the premade option, letting the game load in. The pitch-black loading screen was quickly replaced by a blindingly bright light, to the point where you had to squint your own eyes to shut out the glaringly white visuals. As your eyes adjusted to the sudden change, you found yourself staring at a completely different image from your normal, scrawny self. The avatar in the bathroom was far bulkier and broader than you, and its tanned skin indicated hours spent basking in the warm sun. You gaped at the model your friend made, bringing a hand up to rub and squeeze at one of the pecs jutting out underneath your shirt. Just the mere act of brushing up against the fabric felt so real, to the point where you could almost feel a mountain of muscle underneath your massive paws, even if this was all fake.
It was certainly stimulating enough for your own cock to twitch a little in excitement, and you began to flex and pose with your friend’s avatar in the mirror. If you couldn’t make up something for yourself, this was certainly the next best option. You couldn’t help but marvel at how immersive the experience really was, and you didn’t even have to leave the warm comforts of your bed to enjoy this beefy body. Of course, there was a rather devious thought that slipped into your head as you marveled at the man’s muscles. With games like this, they often censor the most private and explicit parts. But since it was only you in the privacy of your own room, there were plenty of questions that you simply had to answer for yourself.
Peeling back the tight clothing off your beefy body, you grunted as you took in the view of your new frame. Even without fully undressing, you could feel the absolute weight and heft that was with your new body. You cheekily brought up one hand to grope and squeeze at your pecs, and the extra sensitivity from your new body made you inadvertently moan. You had to take in all the aspects of your new body, and you unzipped the slacks to see what else you were working with.
You savored the sight of the rather hefty and sizeable bulge that was causing your underwear to hang low from your body. Even without a full arousal, you could practically see the outline of your extra thick cock pressed up against the cloth. The girthier size made you naturally reach down in excitement, and your fingers also cupped the heavy balls tucked into the undergarments. Fondling your new family jewels only informed you of all that extra potent and virile seed that was practically begging for a release. Your friend must have made this avatar’s libido high, if that was even a customizable option, given how much this body seemed to ache for release.
Fishing out your virtual cock, you eagerly began to touch and stroke yourself. Even the mere sensation of your fingers touching it felt so real, and you shuddered in anticipation of what the climactic finish would look like. Soft grunts slipped out of your lips as waves of pleasure reverberated out from the headset towards your own body. You found yourself mimicking the avatar’s actions, palming your own arousal to the same rhythm. You had no idea how this game was causing you to feel such stimulations, but you couldn’t seem to bring yourself to care. It was simply too addicting, watching the beefy, naked man in the mirror rub one out. Droplets of precum began to drip from the swinging pole between those meaty thighs, and you made the avatar use it as lube to stimulate its own erection.
Suddenly, your immersion was quickly interrupted by a pixelated message window popping up in front of your view. While you were still able to see through the translucent virtual message, you growled in mild annoyance at the message blocking your moment of personal desires. It didn’t stop you from continuing to tug and stroke away at your virtual self, though, but the message was quite unclear in what it was suggesting.
Upload incomplete. Halted progress at 62%. Stimulation resuming the upload…
This must have been the glitch that your friend mentioned, which was clearly obstructing the best parts of the virtual experience. Whatever was going on with the loading bar was certainly progressing with each passing moment as you drew closer to a climax. At this point, you didn’t even care what was going on. You were far too invested in savoring every last bit of this beefy, muscular hunk of an avatar. The whole body was practically thrumming with sensitivity, and your hips bucked upwards into your hands as you found yourself nearing an orgasmic bliss. Both you and the avatar seemed to sync up in movements now, although you weren’t exactly focused on the game’s unique and clever technical design. Instead, your pants began to grow louder as you watched the beast of a man begin to unravel in the mirror. Staring down at your juicy body in the game, you watched as the heaving pecs bounced and jiggled with each stroke. The thick, veiny biceps bulged as you flexed while stroking that swinging baton of a cock.
And suddenly, you found your hips bucking upwards as thick ropes of cum spurted out from your cock. The avatar’s load seemed to be far more in volume than yours, but no less explosive. You shuddered as both bodies jolted and twitched with each spurt out of you. It was satisfying in a way that was simply too hard to explain, and your eyes could only roll back from the immense pleasure. But at the peak of the climax, a sparking electric shock zapped your temple, and a flash of pain caused your vision to go completely white. You had a fleeting thought, almost wondering if you had gone and truly broken your friend’s game. But suddenly, some text began to focus into view as the white light faded away.
Upload completed. Progress at 100%. Loading into a new reality.
As you slowly came down from that orgasmic high, you couldn’t help but groan a bit in mild embarrassment at your rather lewd and sexual exploration of this avatar. The clarity was starting to hit your head, and you couldn’t help but chuckle lowly at your actions. However, the deep, rumbling bass in your voice caused you to furrow your brows in confusion. You didn’t always have such a dominant-sounding voice, did you? Bringing up one of your thick hands to rub at your Adam’s apple, your eyes began to widen in surprise as you found the avatar’s body mimicking every action that you were doing. Of course, you had been guiding and controlling it before, but something felt far too real now.
Shuddering at the almost uncanny feeling you were getting, you raised your meaty hands up to pull off the virtual headset device. However, your fingers only brushed at the sides of your face, and you stared back at your body in the mirror. There wasn’t anything there to take off. In fact, with the headset on, the bathroom you were in felt very real. You could feel the warm, tropical air rubbing against your skin, the cool breeze of the air conditioner blowing on your broad back, and the cold sensation of the tile under your bare feet. Stumbling away from the mirror, you quickly moved out of the room, flinging the door open to reveal a rather lavish and extravagant master bedroom.
A quick stumble about the place quickly revealed that you were standing in what appeared to be the top of a penthouse. Your confusion was only coupled by how real everything felt to the touch: the doors, the windows, the view. If this game was still boasting of an immersive experience, they had really gone all out. But there was a sinking feeling behind your heaving pecs as you jogged about the place, as you began to realize that there wasn’t a clear indication on how to quit out of the game if you couldn’t pull off the headset. And in the slight moment of realization as you ambled back into the bathroom, a new virtual message popped into view.
Biophysical assets loaded in. Uploading cognitive assets…
Before you even had the chance to read through the text on the loading bar, there was a sharp and searing pain in your head. Your temple throbbed with a heavy, beating pulse, as if you could hear your own pounding heartbeat. Even in such a strong and muscular body, you couldn’t help but stumble forward, clasping onto the countertop with a loud grunt. Your eyes squeezed shut from the needling sensation, as though something was burrowing into your skull. Through your teary eyes, you could just make out a new loading bar beginning to fill with progress.
And with a rather audible pop and crackle inside your head, a flood of new memories began to rush in. It was like a torrent of information, with a force so strong that it began to wash away whatever information you had about yourself. Memories of yourself growing up in the American Midwest were replaced by memories of your hometown in Vietnam. In fact, as far as you could remember, you had never been to America as a kid. It wasn’t until you started pursuing your career in mixed martial arts that you began competing over there. It had always been a goal of yours to make a name for yourself, and with all this growing fame and popularity going to your head, it made sense that you had such a large and lavish penthouse all to yourself to call home.
You grunted as your confused and pained expression began to shift into something more cocky and hot-headed. Your hairy eyebrows knit together as you gave a rather loud and audible growl, bringing your arms up to flex your muscles. There was some part of you that had this weird idea that you were some skimpy, scrawny white nerd. But there was no way people would mistake “The Beast” for skimpy and scrawny. You shook your grizzled head, bringing a hand up to rub at your scruff. You were probably thinking of some fan of yours who had flown out from America to watch one of your fights. With all those eager twinks lining themselves up for you in the locker room after you bested your opponents, it was hard to keep track of their faces. None of them ever seemed to complain anyway; you always made sure they left with quivering legs and holes filled to the brim with your potent seed.
Smirking at yourself in the mirror once more as you caught a whiff of your musk, you could feel your head begin to clear up that mental fog. You flexed your back and rolled out your shoulders, only reaching back to squeeze and rub at some of your sore muscles. Perhaps you just went a little too hard with your morning workout. It was easy for a jock like you to get lost in the sauce when you lifted weights. Everything came so easily for you there. Outside of that, you let your managers handle the rest of the logistics in your life. There wasn’t any other room in your head to think of complicated shit; you were built to fuck and fight.
The soft ping of the loading bar completing its upload made you blink in confusion. You didn’t get why there was some weird floating text before your eyes. Blinking your eyes seemed to do the trick, though, and the virtual bar disappeared in a shimmer of pixels. All you could remember was the final line of text.
Enjoy your spring break paradise!
You shrugged your broad shoulders as you picked up your phone, seeing a few texts from your coaches asking if they were gonna see you later. Tapping your fat thumbs along the screen, you managed to work out a semi-coherent reply. There was no way they’d think you’d miss a gym session. It seemed like both you and the bros didn’t get enough sleep last night with all the weird shit that was going on. You figured you could swing by the massage parlor before you had your second lifting session of the day. It was practically a ritual for you at this point, since you had practically done this your whole life.
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.
The sun was a massive heavy orange ball sinking low into the dirt fields, turning the whole sky into a messy mix of bruised purple and gold. It was one of those humid evenings where the air feels like a wet blanket, sticking to everything it touches. Elias, an older guy pushing fifty with a back that constantly ached and knees that popped like gravel in a blender, didn’t even hear the tire go at first. There was just that sudden weird drag to the left, the steering wheel becoming a stubborn piece of iron in his tired hands.
He muttered a curse, his voice sounding thin and scratchy in the quiet cabin.
He guided the fading sedan onto the crunchy gravel shoulder. He was in the middle of nowhere. No houses, no lights, just flat fields stretching out forever. He sat there for a second with his hands still on the wheel, feeling every single bit of his fifty years. He was just so tired. Tired of the driving, tired of the back pain, tired of the quiet house he was heading back to. He stepped out of the car, his joints feeling stiff and brittle. The back tire was a total disaster. Shredded rubber flapping against the rim. He popped the trunk and just stood there staring at the spare tire. He hadn’t changed a tire in twenty years, and his brain felt thick and foggy from the summer heat.
That was when he heard it. A low vibrating hum that grew into a window-rattling roar. A sleek black sport bike ripped through the quiet air, moving so fast it was almost a blur. The rider saw him and slowed down, the bike growling and popping as it decelerated. The guy turned the bike around in one smooth easy motion and rolled up, stopping just a few feet away. The engine idled with a deep rhythmic thrum.
The rider swung a leg off the bike like it was nothing. He was young and loose, moving with this heavy, confident gravity. He didn’t take his helmet off. It was a matte black AGV with a mirrored visor that hid his face completely.
“Need a hand, man?” Jax asked. His voice came through the helmet, slightly muffled but deep and grounded.
Elias wiped sweat from his forehead. “Yeah. Tire’s gone. I’m a bit out of my element here, honestly.”
“It’s chill, I got you,” Jax said, stepping closer. The smell of him was intense. Heavy leather, gasoline, and a sharp hot sweat that seemed to radiate off his gear. “It’s easy once you get the rhythm. Here, crouch down with me. Just watch my hands.”
Elias knelt on the gravel. Jax reached out and gripped his shoulder. His heavy riding glove felt incredibly warm through the thin fabric of Elias’s old shirt.
“First thing is the wrench. Don’t stress it. Just feel the weight of the metal. Hear that sound?” Jax tapped the wrench against the rim. Click. Click. Click.
“Just focus on that sound, Colton,” Jax whispered, his voice a low, steady drone from behind the dark visor.
Colton. The name felt familiar. Elias didn’t even correct him. It felt like a word he’d forgotten and just found again. He watched the wrench. Click. Click. Click.
“Just keep turning it,” Jax said. “Don’t think about the rest. Just the metal. The road. The rhythm.”
Elias found himself staring at his own hands on the metal. Every time Jax spoke, a little more of his old life felt like a dream he was waking up from. He tried to remember his last name. He tried to picture his living room. It was there for a second, but then it got hazy, like looking through dirty glass. He tried to hold onto it, but the effort made his head ache. Why was he trying to remember a house? Houses were just boxes. It was easier to just listen to the wrench.
As Jax kept talking, guiding his hands on the bolts, the physical world started to shift.
His old dusty work boots grew heavy and stiff. The leather became hard and non-breathable, turning into professional black biker boots with thick rubber soles and plastic armor. Inside, his feet were widening, his toes getting thick and calloused. The heat inside the boots was instant and intense. His socks soaked through with a heavy, sour, extremely pungent foot sweat. It was a thick cheesy smell wafting up from the unvented boots, mixing with the hot engine oil.
He noticed the foul smell. It was undeniably rank. But then Jax shifted closer, and the younger biker smelled exactly the same. Thick, unwashed, heavy with the scent of the road. The smells blended together perfectly. It didn’t gross him out. It felt like they matched. Like they belonged to the same pack.
“Check the bolts, Colton,” Jax murmured, his gloved hand lingering on his arm.
Colton’s knees stopped aching. They felt like steel springs. He used to be taller, but he felt his bones compacting, his center of gravity dropping to a solid powerful five-ten. Perfect for hugging a gas tank. His old work slacks thickened, the fabric transforming into a pair of heavy charcoal-grey sweatpants. He felt his rear end firm up, expanding just enough to get that plump bubbly biker shape that filled out the soft cotton perfectly.
In the front, a heavy thick bulge was filling out, the soft grey cotton leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. Colton shifted his weight on his heels, feeling the low-hanging heaviness between his legs.
His upper body broadened, his chest expanding as his old shirt split and merged into a tight black gym shirt with faint grey details. It clung to his new biceps. It felt like he’d been wearing it since yesterday’s heavy lift. It was damp with old sweat, smelling like a locker room and heavy unwashed musk. His armpits were soaking through, releasing a thick masculine scent of raw onions and salt.
His stomach gave a deep, bubbling rumble. His diet was rewiring itself—he couldn’t remember the last time he ate a salad. All his body knew was cheap gas station burgers, protein shakes, and monster energy drinks. A heavy pressure built up in his gut. He didn’t even try to hold it in. He shifted his weight and let out a long, loud, vibrating fart that sounded like a dirt bike idling.
“F-fuuckkk..ughhhh..I just fucking farted..” Colton said, moaning.
It was incredibly pungent. A thick, heavy, eggy stench that lingered in the humid air like a physical cloud. He remembered his farts always reeked. So did Jax’s farts.
Jax didn’t wave his hand or back away. Instead, he stepped right into the cloud. He reached up and popped his helmet’s visor open. “Good one, bro,” Jax chuckled, taking a slow, deliberate sniff, letting the foul eggy air invade his helmet.
Colton looked up, a dumb happy grin spreading across his face. A warm surge of pride pooled in his gut. He liked that Jax liked it. He liked that he could be completely filthy and gross and Jax just claimed it. It was a weird, intense kink that suddenly felt completely natural to him. He wanted to smell like Jax. He wanted Jax to smell him.
He stood up, brushing his calloused hands on his sweatpants. This was the moment where things started to get really blurry.
He looked at the sedan parked on the shoulder. He stared at it for a long time. It looked wrong. It was too wide. It had four doors. Why would anyone need four doors? He tried to remember driving it, but the memory cut off mid-thought. He remembered hands on a steering wheel, but they didn’t feel like his hands. His hands were meant for grips, not a wheel.
The blue paint of the car seemed to swim in the humid air. The edges of the metal softened and folded inward. It was compressing, getting darker. He blinked, rubbing his eyes with a thick thumb. When he looked back, the four wheels were gone. It was a sleek black Yamaha.
He didn’t freak out. He didn’t even gasp. He just looked at it and felt a wave of relief. Right. The bike. Obviously. It was his bike. He knew the scratch on the gas tank. He knew how the clutch felt. It had always been there.
Colton didn’t want to move away from Jax. He naturally gravitated closer, their shoulders almost brushing. There was a deep quiet gravity between them. He didn’t need to make decisions anymore. He tried to think about that other life—something about a wife? A job? but the thoughts just slid off his brain. It felt gross to even try. His whole sexuality, his whole personality, had narrowed down to a single point. He just wanted to be right here, right next to Jax. Wherever Jax went, he went. They rode together, they slept together, they shared everything. It was a loyalty so deep it didn’t need words.
Thoughts were getting real simple in his head.
Hot out.
Bike looks good.
Jax is ready.
Just ride.
Jax grabbed a matte black AGV helmet from his bike and tossed it to Colton.
Colton caught it easily. His hands knew exactly how to hold it. He pulled it over his head. The inside was cramped and hot. It smelled incredibly stale, reeking of old hair wax, old sweat, and his own pungent unwashed musk. The pads squeezed his cheeks tight, making his lips pout a little behind the mirrored visor. To anyone else it would be claustrophobic. To Colton, it was a cocoon. It was his zone.
He stepped toward his Yamaha. He swung a heavy muscular leg over the seat. His bubbly sweaty rear settled onto the firm seat, the grey sweatpants bunching up perfectly to show off his thick thighs. He didn’t have to think about where to put his feet. His heavy smelly boots found the pegs by pure instinct. He leaned forward, his back curving naturally, and his hands gripped the handlebars. The calluses on his palms aligned perfectly with the rubber grips. He had done this a million times.
He revved the engine. The vibration traveled up his arms, settled deep in his chest, and buzzed against his crotch. It felt like a heartbeat.
He looked over. Jax had walked his bike over, but before he mounted it, he stepped close to Colton’s Yamaha. Jax reached out with a heavy black glove and rested his hand firmly on Colton’s plump, grey-clad butt. He gave it a slow, possessive squeeze, his thumb pressing into the soft cotton.
Even through the helmet, Colton could feel Jax’s smirk. Colton just revved the engine again, a low moan escaping his lips inside his helmet, his body leaning into the touch.
Jax patted him twice, then swung onto his own bike.
Good.
Ready.
Follow Jax.
Jax kicked his stand up and rolled forward onto the dark asphalt. Colton didn’t hesitate for a single second and followed.
yayyy biker story!! You guys have been harassing me with requests for one so there you are. Hope you enjoy ! <3
Dorian was on his way home from work with a pit in his stomach. Unfortunately, there weren't any traffic jams, so it seemed Dorian would have to face his boyfriend without delay.
Dorian and Patrick loved each other more than anything, but somewhere along the way, the sexual spark had started to fade. To Dorian, this was fine, but Patrick's libido was much higher. Dorian agreed to an open relationship, but Patrick always said he wanted Dorian more than anyone else. To try and reignite the spark, they made Wednesdays their sex day — and ever since, Dorian dreaded going home on Wednesdays.
As expected, Dorian got home right on time. As he opened the door, the usual smells from the kitchen were already missing. Patrick always made the most delicious meals for them both. Today, no noise came from the kitchen.
As Dorian walked towards the kitchen, he heard some murmuring from upstairs. When he arrived in their bedroom, Dorian saw a behemoth of a man standing next to their bed.
"Who the fuck are you, and where is Patrick?" Dorian wanted to yell, as he realised that he did in fact know the man in front of him. It was his boyfriend. Now that he thought about it, for the last hour or so, he memorized to versions of Patrick. The nerdy one that he knew was the "original", because Patrick and Dorian were like twins. Since this afternoon, another version appeared: the one Dorian saw in front of him right now.
As the man turned around, Dorian noticed how absolutely jacked the man was. His back arched out into a V-shape that Dorian never dreamed of seeing in real life. It was only when Dorian saw the man's pecs that protruded from his tight 8-pack abs that he realised that the man who was standing there was completely naked.
"Hey, bro, how are you? Look what finally came today!" the new Patrick said as he waved something that looked like a phone in the air.
The second Dorian saw the phone, he remembered that weeks ago Patrick had been going on a tangent about this reality-changing programme. Dorian had zoned out occasionally, so the details were fuzzy. He started to get dizzy as the version of his boyfriend that worked out daily fought for memory space with the memory of his nerdy boyfriend.
"Seems like that reality-changing thing works!" Dorian said.
"Okay, you zoned out again when I spoke about it, didn't you, bro? Anyway, now I am absolutely your type!" Patrick, his calm and collected Patrick, was jumping up and down like a little kid.
"Oh honey, you know it was never about your looks. I love you for who you are, in fact I fear that this Chronivac-thing is changing your personality. This whole bro-type personality? It's not you, you know?" Dorian looked his boyfriend directly in the eyes and felt sad that he made the man he loved look for such radical solutions to his lack of libido.
"I didn't want to change myself for you, bro. I just hoped that, with a higher libido, I wouldn't mind our relationship being open as much. You know?"
"Also, not a fan that you can change all of reality, and I wouldn't even know. So from now on, the phone will always stay near me, and we can only use it when the other person is looking as well."
"Ugh, why don't you trust me, bro? It's not like I'd make you into anything you wouldn't like." Patrick whined.
"I just don't want anything about me changed for now, babe. We don't know what else is altered without us knowing."
"Babe", Patrick finally called him babe again, "it's not like Chronivac would lie to us, it's not a genie in a lamp situation. I just feel more...relaxed? Also, kinda turns me on to talk like a jock." Patrick smirked.
After Patrick got dressed (a tight shirt and shorts), both he and Dorian made a simple meal together, ate it and settled on the couch. The Chronivac was with them in the kitchen, on the dinner table and at the table near the couch. Dorian watched over it like a hawk, checking every few minutes whether the thing was still there. It was followed by a quick glance over at Patrick.
"Okay babe, not liking the lack of trust you have in me." Patrick blurted out frustrated. He stretched his hands towards Dorian. "I thought tonight was still datenight?" He made his pecs bounce under the tight shirt he was wearing.
"Sorry, honey, I have to trust you." Dorian pulled back from Patrick's grasp. "Sorry, today has been much. You understand, right?" Dorian turned his attention back to the TV.
"To be fair, babe, I don't understand. Sorry, I need a minute, and sorry for what I'm going to do," Patrick said while storming off to the bathroom. The last part of the sentence kind of lost on Dorian, who was getting his phone out of his pocket to text his best friend, Lisa.
"Okay, wow, sooo Patrick got this reality-changing device. It's cool, but scary."
Dorian pressed send and looked to the place where the Chronivac was just a few minutes ago: empty.
"Patrick, what are you doing?" Dorian cried out in panic before his whole world seemed to be turning upside down.
Several seconds later, Patrick arrived back in the living room. "Sorry, bro. I had to do this."
"You can always go to the toilet, silly", Dorian said as he straightened the strings of his jockstrap and turned his ass in the air. "What's that phone you got there?"
"Oh that's my chronivac..." the rest that Patrick said was sort of blocked out for Dorian as he got distracted by the growing bulge in his stud boyfriend's sweatpants.
After the best sex for the couple in ages, the pair went to bed and Dorian checked his phone one final time to make sure his alarm for work was set. His boyfriend was toying with that special phone again.
"OMG, you have to tell me more!" A text from Lisa popped up, but Dorian couldn't remember texting her. When he read about the reality-changing programme, a killer headache formed. Suddenly, he remembered what Patrick promised and what happened earlier tonight. He could feel his consciousness slip. Dorian mustered all his power to reply to Lisa.
"I think Patrick is abusing it. Come help me, please." Dorian barely sent the message before letting his phone slip from his hands. This drew Patrick's attention. Dorian saw how his boyfriend picked up the phone and saw the message.
"Again, honey, I'm sorry. This cock won't be taking care of it self, and I am so f'ing horny. I can't let you find out again" Dorian panicked and wondered what was going to happen as he got swallowed in seas of darkness.
Dorian awoke startled, as if just woken up from a scary dream. Light pierced through the curtains already.
"Fuck bro, I missed my alarm", he said while yawning.
Dorian lazily grabbed at his morning wood and fully woke up in shock.
"how large is my...." was the last thought he had before his mind was flooded with new memories that immediately weren't new to Dorian.
D, as he often refferred to himself now, thought back to the hot sex last night as he let his naked foot-long cock flop free from the blankets.
D flexed his football-sized biceps as his cock hardened. Like every morning, he winked at the camera that livestreamed his bed 24/7. He had to please the audience, Patrick always said.
D got up from the bed and immediately saw himself in the full-length mirror directly in front of the bed.
He knew he saw this every morning, but as if he saw it for the first time, Dorian was blown away by his physique. First of all, his beautiful young face that made him look boy-ish, with blue eyes that swallowed every top as he looked up while sucking on a dick.
His baby face could be misleading if it weren't for the bullneck that followed straight underneath it. Every muscle group stood out in its own marvellous way. His bowling-ball-sized shoulders made him look like a tank, while their curves made way for arms that were larger than most people's legs. His python arms were raised to his sides because of a back that could make some planes jealous.
D admired and flexed every muscle, but he knew what his audience was waiting for.
"Are you guys ready to see the root of my popularity?" D said with his back turned to the camera, seemingly forgetting that his audience could see everything because of all the other mirrors.
"Ladies and gents, but mostly gents. Here is my root!" D laughed as he turned around, moving his hips back and forth in such a way that the top of his dick slammed into his pec shelf.
As he was wanking off, D talked to the camera about all the times he had to skip a class because his dick was simply to hard. That his mind clouded over because he got too horny and had to hold himself in.
"Now, I hardly ever have to leave the house. We even have a pool since we moved to Patrick's mansion! He even told me that's because of you guys I can just lounge around naked or in my jockstrap all day now."
Thinking about his jockstrap pushed D over the edge. He moaned a lot and yelled, "I love my life!" before he jizzed over the mirrors and his own hair.
After he came to, D turned to the camera again.
"Thank you guys, I'll be leaving the camera view now, but I promise you can see tons of content on my OF-page today, tomorrow, every day!" He giggled and jumped around for a few more seconds and then left the room.
D had just started showering when Patrick came into the bathroom.
"Honey, Lisa is here and wants to talk to you. I will let her in, so take your time. It doesn't seem too urgent anyway."
Patrick left the bathroom, and D thought he could hear him mumble something about twinks. It didn't matter, as thinking of Lisa gave D, no Dorian, a headache again. Why had he asked Lisa for help again?
You read the text over and over, and stared at the pic below. It was totally out of character for your intellectual, anxious boyfriend to send you a text like that out of nowhere, even at the gym. And the picture he had sent with it…
You couldn’t quite put your finger on what was different, but he looked incredibly sexy. The coloured hair, the tattoos, even the way his shirt clung to his body, it was somehow different than what you expected but you still knew it was him. His eyes were just the same as always. Fuck, did he really want to get dirty right now?
Another text popped up. “Bro, my pits are fuckin rank, cum 2 the last stall”
This must be some kind of surprise roleplay. You were both into those dumb, musky jocks and fantasised about public sex, even though you'd never tried it. And you could feel yourself starting to chub up in your gym shorts, too.
Fuck it. “On my way, baby.”
“Call me dude, bro.”
A moment later, you pushed open the door to the bathroom. It felt so dirty to walk casually past the urinals, watching yourself in the mirror as if your body was moving on autopilot. Were you walking differently than normal? Could people tell? The air itself felt different, pregnant with horny anticipation.
You knocked gently on the last stall, and the latch slid open.
“Hey bro,” said your boyfriend, pulling you into the close space. Was his voice deeper, more smokey? He looked even bigger than he had in the picture, his eyes full of desperate lust.
“What’s up dude?” you replied, using the nickname like he’d told you. “How’s the lift going?”
“Oh, you know me,” he crowded you against the wall, raising one arm so all you could see was the tangled, wet hair of his armpit, “I got too fuckin’ horny and had to call my bro in to help.”
This was really happening. You had your boyfriend’s fresh, musky pits right in front of you. Five minutes ago he’d been on the elliptical, and you could still feel the heat of his exertion radiating onto you. You angled your head forward, straight into the dense, sweaty forest, and took a deep whiff.
Your boyfriend stifled your moan with his pit as he crushed you against the flimsy stall wall. “Let it in, bro,” he ordered you, his free hand reaching down to fondle your cock straight through your shorts.
As you started licking, you felt something like a finger reach down the back of your shorts and tease your ass. You gasped at the intrusion.
“Shhh,” your boyfriend told you. “Keep quiet, bro. Let it in.” One hand was behind his head, the other beginning to undo the drawstring of your shorts.
You pulled back, looked up at his face. You trusted the expression in his eyes. It felt so good to lean back in as your boyfriend started to stroke your cock and the something behind you ran a cold finger around your rim.
The sensation quickly slipped into your ass, and you barely held back a keen as it massaged your prostate. You felt so full all of the sudden, but all you could focus on was the pleasure and the sharp, musky stench overpowering all your senses.
“C’mon bro, keep going, you’re almost there,” came your boyfriend’s voice as your rock-hard cock started to fill your shorts with precum. “Fill up so good.”
Your belly felt swollen now, and so, so cold, even enveloped in the warmth of your boyfriend’s body. Suddenly, the cold clawed upwards into your chest, and you looked down in shock.
Your belly was overfilled, and your pecs were bouncing of their own volition. They were bouncing and growing, thick dark hair covering them as the areolae expanded. “What’s-“ you gasped, but then your boyfriend’s hand shot to your new muscle tits. His callused, wide, masculine hand. The pleasure of his touch shot through your brain and your voice cut off in a choked gasp.
Suddenly, you could see what had happened to your boyfriend. The tattoos, the hair, the muscles, the voice. They weren’t him, they were something else inside him. Something dumb, musky, and perverted.
“C’mon bro, you’re so close, let my bro and me play a bit,” the thing in your boyfriend rasped in your ear. Meanwhile, you felt your lats jerk wider, hair growing wild in your armpits as the intense scent of your musk began to fight with your boyfriend’s.
You looked into his eyes and realised they hadn’t changed. Your boyfriend was looking out, watching your biceps thicken and your neck widen, and he was loving it. Every motion, every touch, every hushed gasp in the public bathroom, was exactly what he had always wanted but never been able to actually do. And you wanted it too.
Your arms, out of your control, pushed your shorts down your thickening thighs, letting your massive cock flop out. One massive, thick-fingered hand pulled out your boyfriend’s hard cock and put them both end to end, stretching your foreskin over his cockhead and starting to stroke. Now it was your boyfriend’s turn to stifle his yell as you lost control of your face to the thing inside you.
“Fuck yeah, dude,” your mouth said, the voice deep and slow. “Found such a good body for your bro. He’s so fuckin’ happy in here, lettin’ me flex and bate him and givin' into the musk.”
Your boyfriend grunted and grabbed your lips in a bruising kiss. “So’s this guy, bro,” he purred. “Fuck, I can’t wait to make you smell these feet, bro.”
A moment later, your boyfriend hissed and you felt his hot cum flood your foreskin, tipping you over the edge. Foreheads pressed together, you rode out the orgasm with ragged breaths and shifting feet, flexing muscle on muscle to prolong the pleasure. When you finally released your foreskin, your boyfriend cupped his hands to get both your loads as they spilled out, and met your eyes as he tipped it into his mouth. You felt a shuddering aftershock as your boyfriend looked out past the thing possessing him, delirious with pleasure.
“Let’s crush the rest of the workout, bro,” he whispered, giving you one last cummy kiss.
“You’ll smell me from across the gym, dude,” you said, lifting one arm and sticking your tongue out.
You didn’t know how long you and your boyfriend would be passengers in your own bodies, but you were ready to settle down and enjoy it.
@idesofrevolution sent a pic of him and his boyfriend at the gym and this is my response. Your move, Frost ;) Good boys will go check out his Ko-fi.
