#s2g

[misctf]

Twink Rebirth

"You're joining the team next year, right man?"

"Yeah bro, that's the plan."

Tony smirked as one of his new gym bros clapped him on the back. Yeah, that was indeed the plan. But it hadn't always been. Hockey? Him? He couldn't fully believe it.

"You were a natural out there."

Tony smiled as he recalled how swiftly he moved on the ice. How easily it came to him. The speed, the thrill... It felt so familiar... Like he had done it hundreds of times prior... Like he had spent his life training to play in college.

"Felt right, man, ya know?"

Just as natural as all the time spent in the gym, focusing on lifting weights rather than only cardio. In hindsight, he couldn't imagine why he hadn't started lifting earlier. His body had responded quickly, like it yearned to pack on muscle. And looking at himself now, with his bulging muscles, body hair, facial hair... A far cry from the scrawny twink he arrived on campus as at the start of the year.

"Twink death."

His gay besties he had met on his first day on campus would say. He heard that phrase even more when they noticed his new chest hairs.

"Twunk!"

"Jock!"

His besties would giggle, poke at his muscles. At first, Tony would laugh. Talk about how many more guys were checking him out. Brag about how they couldn't get enough of his thicker, muscular ass. But even that seemed temporary. Hooking up with men? Tony noticed his attraction shifting. Beautiful blond women with big tits. And it wasn't just his preferences. Endless celebrity gossip with his besties? He would rather talk about sports and watch the big game. Not to check out the hot guys on the team, but because he actually cared. Majoring in theater? Suddenly finance was becoming more attractive, as if he always wanted to pursue a career in the private sector.

"You've changed."

"Did you dye your hair?"

Tony tried to laugh it off. Tell his besties it was just him exploring a different side of him. But as time went on, this him- this "new" him felt right. No one in his family was blond. So how had he been? His brothers and father were massive sports fans. So why wouldn't he be? His gay besties? He would rather hang out with the jocks down the hall- and not just because he found them hot. Their camaraderie felt right. He bonded so easily with them. And suddenly, partying, poppers, and getting his ass fucked felt wrong. That person, that version of him... it didn't really feel like him. And as his first year in college passed by, he felt that the person he was when he arrived on campus was never actually supposed to be him.

"My head..." He grunted and closed his eyes.

These migraines hurt. Becoming more frequent as the months passed. But the migraines came with flashes of something else. Of a different life. Of growing up different. Playing hockey, his first time with a woman, meeting Christi, wanting to get married to her...

"Fuck." Tony whispered. What was he thinking? Who were these people? It hurt. These memories. He longed for them, longed for something that felt more real than who had been these past few months, "What the fuck is..."

His phone buzzed and he looked down at a message. He involuntarily shuddered.

"Let's meet up when you're back."

Paul. He lived next to his parent's place. Just moved in a few days before Tony left for college. How many times had they hooked up before he left? How many times had Paul fucked him? Tony gulped. Paul was always so dominant. So in charge. Tony had drooled over the man's thick cock more times than he could count. But now? Tony had no interest.

"Alright." Tony replied. He felt he at least owed Paul an explanation for his sudden change.

---------------

Tony stood outside Paul's front door, his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right, that his memories of Paul and their past together were somehow…off. Before Tony could knock, the door swung open. Paul's musculature and hairy torso greeted him. And while it would've usually turned him on, Tony felt... nothing. Even as he remembered riding Paul's fat cock, which bulged obscenely in his shorts. Even as he remembered Paul's calloused hands squeezing his ass. Even as he remembered stuffing his nose in Paul's musky pits...

"Tony? This is unexpected," Paul raised an eyebrow. His gaze lingered on Tony's muscular frame and short dark hair. Tony figured the "unexpected part" had to do with his appearance, "You look…different."

"I…yeah, I guess I do," Tony mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, "I wanted to talk to you about some things…" He trailed off, unsure of exactly what he wanted to say.

"Lets talk indoors." He moved out of the way, inviting Tony in, "Did you have a chance to work out today? I can tell you enjoy it."

Tony sensed the disdain, "I, well..."

But as he stepped inside, a flood of fragmented images popped into his head... He was jogging, shirtless. Appearing as he did now. His muscular physique soaking up the sun. He had stopped for a drink, and that's when he met Paul, seemingly another man out for a jog. They talked and Paul invited him over to use his home gym. After all, Tony's usual gym was closed for repairs.

"I… What was that…?" Tony stopped mid-step and gripped his head, "I've... done this before."

"Huh maybe you have." Paul grinned, "Offer still stands, you coming or what?"

"S-sure..." He replied, numbly.

Paul smirked and placed a firm hand on Tony's broad shoulder, guiding him towards the basement stairs, each step bringing up more fragments. The creaky stairs, the musty smell, the single bare lightbulb hanging from the ceiling…

"Wait Paul, I don't..." Tony froze as they reached the bottom. No gym equipment, just an empty, solitary chair in the center of the room.

"Have a seat, Tony. We need to…talk." He gestured to the chair.

"But..." He remembered being confused... asking Paul where his equipment was. Being told to sit in the chair. He gripped his head, "Paul, please... what's going on?" His voice sounded small and uncertain, but he did as he was told. He sunk into the cold, hard chair.

"It's time to talk." Paul came up behind Tony and rubbed his shoulders, "But you remember that before we start talking..."

"I need to be naked." Tony mumbled, eyes dulling over.

"Good boy." Paul smirked, "Let me help you out of those clothes."

Tony hesitated, then slowly began removing his clothes under Paul's watchful gaze. First his shirt, exposing the chiseled planes of his chest and abdomen, muscles rippling with each movement. Paul circled him appraisingly.

"Look at that. Just like the day I met you. Those pecs, those abs… It's impressive." Paul's eyes roamed lower, taking in the dusting of dark hair trailing down from his navel. "Hairier too... such a shame." Finally, Tony kicked off his underwear, leaving him completely nude, "Impressive..." He gave Tony's cock a few tugs, feeling it grow in his hand, "This won't do at all. Far too large." He sighed, "I guess I can fix this... again."

"Wha... no, I need to... fix?" Tony mumbled, "Paul, I don't..."

"Shhh, just relax Tony. Imagine your limbs growing heavier. You know this feeling, don't you? The weight, the tingling in your limbs… Just like before."

As Paul spoke, Tony felt his eyelids growing heavy, his muscles relaxing against his will. And he did remember - Paul's deep voice echoing in his mind, the commands... to be something else, something better. And oh how eagerly his body responded…

"Yes, that's right. Focus on my voice. Let everything else fade away," Paul purred, circling the chair. "Starting to remember our first session?"

"I… I remember…" Tony slurred, his words thick and clumsy as he slipped deeper under Paul's sway, "You... changed me..."

"So you remember my trade? Hypnotism and psychology." Paul's voice was rich with pride. "And my research then too?"

Tony nodded, "The mind body connection." He slurred.

"And how what the mind believes can alter the body if the technique is strong enough." Paul continued, "And if the subject is weak enough."

Under the deep trance, Tony's mind flooded with vivid memories of his previous hypnotic session with Paul. He saw himself, growing smaller and softer, listening intently as Paul's voice echoed commands about shrinking, losing muscle, hair lightening to a sunny blond. Each suggestion had felt so right, so inevitable, his body eagerly complying…

"I want you to imagine your body starting to shrink, Tony," Paul commanded, "Feel yourself growing smaller, lighter. Your muscles melting away, your strength fading."

Against his will, Tony felt a tingling sensation spread through his limbs. He watched as his arms began to thin, his biceps deflating like punctured balloons. His triceps collapsing in on themselves. What were once his proud, muscular arms- ready for the life of a hockey player- were two sticks that never looked like they'd seen a dumbbell. With a pained gasp, his pecs began to cave in on themselves, flattening at an alarming rate.

"No..." A pitiful plea escaped his lips as he tried to resist, to clench his muscles and maintain his size, but it was no use. It was as if his body wanted this now, goaded on by his captor.

"That's it Tony, let it happen. Feel your shoulders narrowing, your back thinning out. All that bulky muscle just…melting away."

Tony whimpered, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he felt his once powerful back giving way. The thick delts and lats that allowed him to bench press twice his bodyweight now shriveled like raisins. His traps, the source of so much strength and power, disappeared entirely. In moments, his upper body was slim and delicate, hardly recognizable.

"Your six-pack is flattening out, Tony. Feel those defined muscles soften and melt into a smooth, flat plane."

Tony gasped as he felt the distinct ridges of his abdominals begin to blur and merge. The hard, sculpted surface giving way to softness, all definition vanishing. Tony could only run a dainty hand over his flat stomach, wincing at the lack of his proud abdominals.

"Now your legs, Tony. Those thick, powerful thighs and calves. You feel them growing slender and dainty." Paul licked his lips in anticipation.

Tony cried out as he felt the changes rippling through his lower half. His quads, once rock-hard and bulging, began to slenderize rapidly. The dense calf muscles that propelled him across the ice at incredible speeds melted away, leaving behind slim, dainty appendages. Even his feet seemed to shrink slightly, becoming soft and cute.

"Now picture your hair. Not black, but golden. Soft and fine and silky to the touch." Paul reached out and ran his fingers through Tony's locks, watching in satisfaction as the strands shifted hue and texture before his eyes.

"Pl-please..."

"Don't worry, I know. I know having this kind of equipment is too much for a vapid twink to handle." Paul again tugged at Tony's dick, "I want you to feel your cock shrinking, Tony. Diminishing in size until it's barely more than a useless nub."

Tony whimpered in despair as he felt his most masculine attribute beginning to fail him. His once impressive manhood started to dwindle, inch by agonizing inch. Within moments, what remained was a pathetic little nub that shamefully throbbed in Paul's hand.

"Perfect."

But to Tony, this was far from perfect. His mind raced, barely taking note as his body hair vanished, leaving him smooth. Didn't register his skin becoming soft, smooth, and unblemished. All he could focus on were the sudden memories of that first session. How Paul's voice wrapped around his mind like a vice, shaping his very identity. Being molded into a giggling, vapid twink, obsessed with fashion and sex.

"You... stole my life..."

Tears streamed down Tony's face as fragments of his old life surfaced- charging down the ice, stick in hand, heart pounding with exhilaration. Pushing his body to its limits at the gym, building muscle. Flirting with with chicks at parties, high-fiving his bros. None of it matched the empty-headed twink he had become and was being forced to become again.

"Paul…" He whined in a voice several octaves higher than only a few minutes ago, "Don't do this to me. Please." He begged in his slurred, slutty voice, "I remember who I used to be..."

Ignoring Tony's pitiful pleas, Paul slipped a pair of headphones over the smaller man's ears. Instantly, a repetitive monotone filled his senses, drilling Paul's instructions directly into his psyche.

"…you will submit to Paul completely. Your purpose is to serve and please him in any way he desires. Cleaning his house naked, doing his chores, serving as his house boy brings you immense joy and fulfillment. Presenting your holes for his use is your greatest pleasure…"

Tony whimpered as the voices seeped into his mind, eroding his already weakened will. He felt himself slipping, his brain felt fuzzy, less sharp, focused only on the words. The memories of his old life that had been bubbling to the surface were quickly drowning in the new images of a different life. Of Paul and all his needs. Drool trickled from his slack mouth, eyes glazing over.

"'Mh…mwh…yhyhyou?"

Paul raised an eyebrow and grinned, "Are you already that fucking brain dead that you can't talk?" He removed a single earbud, "Try again, use your words."

Tony licked his plump lips, struggling to form a coherent thought. "Wh-why… why... m...m....mmmm.... meeee?"

Paul smirked, "Because I can, Tony. Because I want to. Because seeing you reduced to my personal fucktoy and maid is the ultimate rush." He grabbed a handful of Tony's soft, doughy ass, squeezing roughly. "And this time, I'm not letting you leave. No college. No "besties". No breaking free of this new life. You belong to me now, understand? My full-time cumdump and house boy." With that, Paul shoved the headphones back into place, the hypnotic suggestions immediately flooding Tony's shattered mind once more. "Just relax and accept your new life. Serving me is all you'll be good for now."

Paul stroked his hardening cock as he watched Tony slip deeper into the trance, his eyes vacant and glassy, drool running down his chin. The sight of his former straight stud reduced to such a pathetic, brainless fucktoy never failed to arouse him. It was just like before. But this time? There would be no going back. Soon, Tony would be nothing more than a set of holes for Paul to use as he pleased, a living sex doll to fulfill his every fantasy. A live-in, slutty maid.

"I think he'll do nicely," he chuckled darkly to himself. "48 hours of reinforcement should really seal it. Then the real fun can begin." He palmed his stiffening erection, already imagining all the ways he would use his new toy. "Until then, I'll leave you to marinate."

Paul ascended the stairs and flicked off the light switch, plunging the basement into darkness, leaving his newest creation alone. And Tony remained slumped in the chair, a puddle of drool forming beneath his slack jaw. His glassy eyes stared at nothing as the words on the tape wormed their way deeper into his fractured psyche.

"Yesh… I'm P-Paul's… his per-perfect… per-perfect fuck-toy…"

His high, breathy voice echoed weakly in the dark room as he lost himself to the hypnotic haze, surrendering the last vestiges of his former self. His useless nub stiffening, his holes aching with need as he excitedly braced for the life he nearly escaped.

Hope you enjoyed! I’m going to be working on some inbox requests that are long overdue. Should start getting those out soon. Message me with any requests or if you want to run things by me!

[octuscle]

Hey Valentine's day is coming up and I am single with no boyfriend. People say im too shy, overweight, and not the best in the looks department with glasses and that naturally chubby face. Im 35 any way you can help me out?

You're hunched over your cluttered desk in the dimly lit office, the glow of your computer screen casting harsh shadows across your face as Valentine's Day looms like a storm cloud. At 35, single and utterly invisible, you feel like a ghost in your own life—too shy to speak up, too overweight to turn heads, hiding behind thick-rimmed glasses that fog up with every anxious breath. Your round, chubby cheeks flush with embarrassment at the slightest glance, and no one notices you beyond the pitying stares. No boyfriend to whisk you away, no dates scribbled in your calendar, just the relentless barbs from coworkers that slice like paper cuts: "Still flying solo, huh?" or "Maybe lay off the donuts." Desperate for escape, you've scoured the internet for self-help miracles, and that's when it happens—a cryptic notification buzzes on your phone like a lifeline from the void. "Chronivac Preset Activated," it reads, linking to some mysterious app or download that whispers promises of transformation. You bookmark it absentmindedly, your thumb slick with nervous sweat, not daring to hope.

But fate twists the knife deeper: Your boss, with his perpetual scowl and coffee-stained tie, drops the bomb in a curt email. A mandatory business trip on Valentine's Day itself, and worse, you're paired with Mark—the office tyrant who delights in your misery. He's the one who sneers at your belly rolls, mimics your glasses with exaggerated squints, and dubs you "the perpetual virgin" in front of the water cooler crowd. Built like a gym rat with chiseled abs and a cocky grin, he struts around bragging about his weekend flings, his voice booming like thunder. The drive to Chicago stretches ahead like an eternity of asphalt purgatory, a full day's worth of torment that makes the Spanish Inquisition seem like a spa day.

The highway unfurls in a monotonous blur of gray concrete and flashing taillights, the engine's hum a constant drone that does nothing to drown out Mark's cruelty. You're behind the wheel first, gripping the steering column until your knuckles whiten, the air thick with the scent of his overpriced cologne mixed with stale fast-food wrappers. He lounges in the passenger seat like a king on his throne, slurping his black coffee with obnoxious smacks, then launches into his ritual gloating. "Dude, last weekend? Scored these two smoking-hot babes at the club—blonde and brunette, total firecrackers. Rode one like a stallion till dawn, her nails digging into my back. And you? Still batting zero? Yeah, figures, with that pudgy babyface and beer gut jiggling like Jell-O." His laughter erupts like a hyena's cackle, echoing in the confined space, each guffaw a fresh stab to your gut. You clench your jaw, tasting blood from biting your tongue, eyes locked on the endless white lines whipping by. Switching seats doesn't help; Mark drives like a maniac, weaving through traffic with aggressive honks and curses at "idiot drivers" who dare to exist in his lane. You're just another loser in his eyes, the car vibrating with his road rage. To escape the verbal onslaught, you fumble for your phone, heart pounding, and tap the Chronivac link. A progress bar flickers to life, downloading some enigmatic preset that auto-activates with a soft chime. Screw it, you think—anything to mute his endless drivel.

Then, silence crashes in like a wave. Mark coughs awkwardly, his bravado crumbling as he shifts in his seat, stealing glances at you with newfound curiosity. "Hey, uh... so, what's your deal? Like, what do you do for fun outside this grind? Got any cool hobbies?" Your eyes widen in shock, the words hanging in the air like smoke—this isn't his script. He presses on, his tone dipping into unfamiliar intimacy: "You got a crush on anyone? What really gets you going? Damn, you know, you're actually kinda... sexy. That shy vibe, those soft features—it's hot." You scoff bitterly, heat rising in your cheeks. "Knock it off, Mark. Not funny." But his gaze lingers, hungry and sincere, tracing the lines of your body with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. "I'm dead serious. Your smile lights up the room, and those curves? They're driving me wild."

Simultaneously, a electric tingle surges through your veins, like liquid fire igniting every nerve. Your arms bulge with sudden strength, muscles coiling like steel cables beneath your skin; your legs stretch longer, thighs thickening with power. You're expanding, growing taller inch by inch, shoulders broadening into a V-shape that strains your shirt seams. A quick flip of the sun visor's mirror reveals the miracle: Your plump, boyish face sharpens into rugged angles, jawline carving out like a sculpture, crowned by short cut  fiery ginger hair. A well trimmed beard sprouts dense, framing lips that curl with newfound confidence. The glasses vanish in a blink, replaced by piercing eyes that gleam with primal allure—you're a towering red-haired Adonis, straight from the pages of a fantasy epic, exuding raw, magnetic masculinity.

And lower still... a throbbing pulse awakens in your groin, a tidal wave of arousal crashing over you. The fabric of your pants tents obscenely as your manhood swells, hardening into a massive, insistent bulge that aches with delicious pressure. You gasp sharply, breath hitching, a bead of sweat trickling down your temple. "Mark, exit at the next rest stop—now. I gotta hit the john, bad." He smirks wickedly, leaning across the console, his hand boldly cupping the swelling mound and kneading it with teasing strokes. "Hold on a sec, big guy. Been eyeing that reason for an exit for miles. You can tough it out—or want me to lend a hand?" His voice drips with husky desire, fingers lingering just long enough to stoke the fire. You swat him away, but the heat builds, your pulse thundering in your ears.

At last, the rest area looms—a dingy oasis of cracked pavement and flickering neon. You bolt from the car, legs wobbling with the rush, the cool breeze whispering against your transforming skin. Midway across the lot, your clothes morph in surreal pulses: The stiff suit pants melt into skin-tight jeans that hug your powerful quads, the belt buckling into rugged leather chaps that creak with every stride, framing your assets like a second skin. Bursting into the restroom, the fluorescent lights buzz overhead, illuminating the graffiti-scrawled walls as you lock a stall door with trembling hands. You tear open your shirt buttons with a rip, exposing a colossal, furred torso—chest heaving like a blacksmith's forge, slabs of muscle etched in veins, nipples pierced with gleaming steel that catch the light. The paunch evaporates, revealing a rippling six-pack blanketed in a lush trail of red body hair, soft yet wild. Panic flares hot in your chest, mingling with an intoxicating rush of power—you're a beast now, dominant and unyielding, every inch screaming alpha.

A tentative knock rattles the door. "You good in there, man?" Mark's voice, laced with concern and something darker. You fling it open, towering over him like a god among mortals, your ginger beard brushing his forehead, a leather harness now cinched tight across your pecs, accentuating every curve and contour. His eyes devour you, pupils blown wide with lust. Your voice rumbles like distant thunder, deep and commanding: "Strip. Now." He complies without a whisper of resistance, shedding layers in a frantic blur—shirt, pants, briefs—until he stands vulnerable in a skimpy leather thong that barely contains his straining excitement, the fabric stretched taut over his arousal. You seize him by the nape, yanking him close, your lips crashing onto his in a devouring kiss, tongue plunging deep to claim every inch of his mouth. He melts against you with a guttural moan, hands roaming greedily over your sculpted chest, fingers tangling in the red fur, tracing the piercings with reverent awe.

This is merely the spark. You slam him back against the cold tile wall, the impact echoing like a thunderclap, your massive hands mapping his body—pinching, stroking, teasing until he's a quivering mess. "More... fuck, please..." he whimpers, voice breaking, eyes glazed with submission. The Chronivac's magic hasn't stopped at you; it's rewritten the world, twisting Mark from tormentor to eager devotee, his once-mocking sneer now a plea for your dominance. You don't rush out of that grimy sanctuary; instead, you claim him right there amid the faint scent of bleach and urgency, thrusting with raw, passionate force that shakes the stall partitions. His cries bounce off the walls, a symphony of surrender, as you drive him to ecstasy in the flickering light.

Hours later, back on the road, the sun dipping toward the horizon in a blaze of orange, Mark huddles beside you—obedient, flushed, his eyes fixed on you with adoring hunger. You're the wheelmaster now, the new you: Valentine's Day conqueror, reveling in your deserved triumph. A casual grope at your own bulging crotch sends a shiver through you, and without a word, Mark leans over, his skilled tongue worshipping you with fervent devotion, the car swerving slightly from the distraction. A firm squeeze at his lap, and he shudders, soaking his pants in a helpless release, his gasp muffled against you. The remaining drive unfolds in epic waves of pleasure, the miles blurring into bliss. And that Chicago weekend? It promises to etch legends into the night, a whirlwind of dominance and desire under the city lights.

[pixellads]

A kiss can take more than your soul, bro — it can steal your youth, your abs, the whole damn package. But hell… maybe it’s worth it!

[mrhexumtfs]

Auntie Milagros' Gift - Part 3

Despite his determination, Alvin makes a terrible mistake with his second wish. And the random swap may be the worse one yet.

First part - Previous part - Next Part

[Alvin's POV]

It was unusually hard to get out of the bed the next morning. As if the discipline Alvin had cultivated during his college years had disappeared alongside his education. Often, he would wake up at nine, yet it was almost midday when he opened his eyes.

How much did I change?

Alvin opened his eyes. Not only was he still sleepy, but he feel unusually lightheaded. Then, as if he needed a reminder, he felt it.

Pressed against his stomach, that beautifully huge cock he has traded his university education for. Throbbing as if it had its own will. Alvin's petite hand couldn't reach it soon enough.

Memories of jacking off at every opportunity filled his mind. Alvin was now significantly hornier than he had been before. When his cock was a tiny nub, he had been too ashamed to seek pleasure with it. He barely ever masturbated. And if he did, he had used a dildo on his ass instead.

He didn't own a dildo anymore.

Why would he? He had a massive schlong. Why would he care about using his ass for anything? Wow, so I was only bottoming because I couldn't top anyone? The thought was at once unsettling yet not entirely surprising. Alvin had adapted to the situation his body had basically forced him into, and found enjoyment on being a bratty twink bottom. But now, he was hung. In this new reality, even if he was a virgin, he had no desire to submit to anyone. He had a huge cock, and he wanted to use it on the best ass he could find.

The issue was finding someone.

Alvin put his glasses on, and searched his phone gallery. It was different, too. A lot more naked selfies of himself. But also more porn. Loads of porn. I'm a gooner now, huh? He laughed at the idea.

Only Alvin could make himself more of a loser by getting a huge cock.

He put on a video he had saved on his gallery. It was a cool one. In first person, the huge jock was fucking a twink. That could be Alvin, in he played his cards right. The idea of becoming a huge jock was more than enough to cum early, and then lay on orgasmic bliss.

Alvin cleaned himself a while after. He put on some clothes, and went downstairs to eat something for breakfast. Although he was closer to lunch time, given the hour. He had the amulet in hand. Alvin hadn't decided what he would wish for, but he felt reassured by having the amulet with him. He had put in on his skinny arm like a bracelet, holding the pendant on his fist.

Downstairs, Alvin's dad was sweeping the floors. As in Alvin's previous reality, Mark was still an exhibitionist. Alvin clenched his teeth, more vexed than amused at seeing his hulking father still going around naked with a one inch cocklet in display. Does the old man really have no shame? Is he that confident?

"Morning, bud! Well, afternoon now. It's past twelve. You deserved to stay up late, anyhow, after all the work we did yesterday," Mark greeted, with a grin. "Do you want me to make you breakfast, or do you prefer to do it yourself?"

Alvin looked at his towering father. He really didn't seem to mind that now he was less hung than a toddler. He had the same grin, the same straight posture. It was maddening! Alvin had expected his dad to be distraught. Or at least be shier about his nudity.

"I'll do it," Alvin replied, rolling his eyes.

As he was walking to the kitchen, he realized his dad didn't remember the previous reality. Meaning, whatever changes Alvin did, his dad would never be aware. He hadn't thought about that. A part of him had hoped his dad would remember what he used to be. But, on the other hand, it was way more convenient if his dad didn't notice the changes. As of now, if his dad realized Alvin had used the magic amulet on them, Mark could easily take it from Alvin. Mark was still a fucking unit, even if he had a tiny cock now.

With a shudder at the idea of losing the amulet, he began preparing himself breakfast. Even if he got hold of the pendant, he'll never have a huge dick again. Alvin smiled at the thought.

Still holding the pendant on his left hand, Alvin used the right one to try to reach the cereal box. Unfortunately, his father had put it on the highest cabinet. Alvin just needed a couple of inches of height to be able to barely reach it. Even jumping he was just too short to take it.

"Ugh! I wish I could grow two or three inches in height so I could reach this stupid box!" Alvin said, before he gave up and went for a chair.

Yet, as he gave a step, he felt it. His whole body trembled, and the same strange feeling that had invaded him yesterday after wishing for a bigger cock filled him whole. Alvin's face grew pale in horror.

Oh fuck! That didn't count! I didn't mean it!

He looked at his fist, holding the pendant tightly. Stupidly he had waisted his second wish! On at most three inches of height!

Worse, he didn't know what he would get alongside the miserable amount of height he had wished for. For all he knew he could get another of his dad's flaws. And Alvin was even more aware of them now. His father, even if he now was college educated, was still a straight dumbass. And old... And surely there was something else.

Alvin got the amulet out of his arm, leaving it in the kitchen counter. A part of him wanted to break it. But he knew only he was guilty of this mistake. He didn't have to hold the pendant the whole time. If he had left it at his room, it wouldn't have acted upon his dumb wish.

Now he had to wait twelve hours to know the consequences of his error. Alvin decided to continue acting as if nothing happened. One, because he was hungry. But also because there was nothing he could do now, was there?

Plus, he didn't know if things would really go badly. After all, there was an equal chance he would get something good. Furthermore, Alvin didn't know if his wish's wording was as precise as he thought it was. Maybe he would swap heights with his dad completely. He hoped so, although even if it wasn't the case, going up to 5'4 or 5'5 was still better than remaining 5'2. A miserable improvement, but an improvement nonetheless.

He could only hope things would go smoothly this time. Maybe, just maybe, the random swap would be either good, or not as dramatic as losing his college education. It did make sense that, after wishing for something as minor as a couple of inches of height, the random swap would also be fairly minimal?

After all, swapping cock sizes could be seen as rather an important change. Although Alvin didn't know he would say it's as important as losing four years of study and effort.

Sitting down to eat, Alvin began soon thinking about going back to bed. He was sore after doing all that physical work for Auntie Milagros' moving. Also, he had to play more with his new cock. Even if his brain was full of memories of already doing so, he knew he hadn't truly done anything with it yet. There was nothing as experiencing things oneself.

There was also, behind this desire, the need to occupy his mind on anything but the stupid mistake he had made with his second wish.

Alvin left the dishes on the sink, ignoring the look his dad gave him, and went upstairs. He could hear his dad sigh as he closed and locked his bedroom door.

[Mark's POV]

The day had gone without complications. At least for Mark. Alvin, on the other hand, had a permanent scowl on his face. Looking taciturn and annoyed at everything.

Still, Mark wasn't unhappy. Despite Alvin's sour mood, he had finally agreed he wanted to go to college. Alvin had told him during lunch. Mark had expected some excitement, but Alvin seemed over the idea. As if, although wanting to go, he was annoyed at wanting it.

What a mysterious mind that of his. Mark sometimes wished he could read mind just to understand what was going on his son's mind. He had never been able to predict a thing. There no greater sorrow in his life than being so distant with his only son. The person he loved the most in the world.

Night soon arrived. Mark had spent most of the afternoon taking care of the backyard, and then working out on the garage (he was always happier after a pump). Once he was done, he showered and prepared dinner. He didn't bother to wear any clothes as he cooked, but a Kiss the Cook apron. Alvin, once again, seemed annoyed by the sight, but what was new?

After dinner, Mark at least did put on some shorts. Although he didn't mind sitting his bare ass on the couch, he knew it was a rather communal space. He didn't need to give Alvin another reason not to leave his room.

Thus, he lay on the couch. The big TV turned on as he began looking for a movie to watch.

"What are you watching?" Alvin said, from upstairs. Alvin was already on his pajamas.

It was about eleven after all.

"I've yet to decide. Do you have a movie in mind? We could watch something together. Come, bud, watch a movie with your old man," Mark said, with a grin.

Alvin seemed about to refuse, indignation clear on his face. But then he looked at the clock. His face relaxing, eyebrow raised. Mark didn't know what was going inside his son's brain, but kept looking until Alvin decided what he wanted to do.

"Sure. But I get to decide the movie," Alvin agreed, stomping down the stairs.

Mark laughed, and gave the control remote to Alvin once his son arrived to the living room. It was hard enough already for Alvin to agree to spend time with him. Mark wasn't going to make it harder by refusing Alvin's demands.

Alvin picked The Mummy. Mark would had no complaints to such movie. It was fun, and the main female lead was hot. Not as much as Cassie, but no woman is that hot. Mark remembered going with Cassie to watch the movie at the cinema. Although that time they didn't pay as much attention. Mark had gotten on his knees to eat her pussy out around the one hour mark, and after that they began having sex. They had figured out the best position for his tiny cock to not slip out. Plus, Mark's thick fingers were an incredible helper at making her cum.

They were kicked out, even though it was a late night function. Nevertheless, Mark got to play with a dildo on Cassie's cunt once they got back home. A really good night, all things considered.

Mark settled down after Alvin pressed play. He had arranged some chips to eat while watching the movie. The bowl at the middle of the coffee table. Alvin didn't eat, however. He looked anxious, looking way too much at the clock.

Is he going to sneak out again? Mark wondered, confused by his son's behavior. It didn't make any sense for Alvin to be this unsettled. It couldn't be the movie. Alvin was a horror fan. The Mummy had its punch, but nothing who could terrify anyone. Alvin had watched the movie as a kid, without issues.

He opened his mouth to ask, but one look shut him up. Alvin's eyes throwing daggers at the mere idea of Mark asking anything.

Mark decided to keep his peace. He'll talk when he wants to. I hope.

A couple of minutes before midnight, Mark leaned down towards Alvin, with a complicit smile.

"That Evelyn girl, very hot, right? Good tits," Mark said.

"Dad!" Alvin reprimanded, his eyes going between Mark and the clock, his hands turned into tight fists. "Look, she's beautiful, but I don't care how hot she is!"

Mark nodded, after cringing at himself.

"Right, the gay thing. Sorry, bud. Uh… Well, then who do you like? That Rick guy... I guess he's hot, right? I remember girls liking him back in the nineties. Is he hot for you?"

Alvin facepalmed.

"Dad! I don't want to speak about who I find hot or not!"

"Is that a no? Because he's a good looking guy. He'd be sad to learn you don't find him hot. Although I don't know how he would hear about it."

Alvin trembled in rage. Mark wondered if his son was about to strangle him. However, Alvin took a deep breath, as if giving up.

"He is hot. He is hot, dad. Happy? I find him hot. Although I like Ardeth Bay better."

Mark nodded. He was about to say something else when the clock struck midnight.

A cold feeling went through his spine. He suddenly felt as if he was sinking on the couch. He tried to straighten his posture, only to find himself already sitting properly.

The cold feeling disappeared quickly. He felt smaller, however. Not much smaller. In fact, it was barely a difference… Right?

What was he thinking? He had always been this size. Sure, he'd like to be 6'5". But being 6'2 is great. If he was taller he'd have a lot more trouble fitting in places that he already does. No one would ever complain about being 6'2". If only Alvin had inherited his height, the poor boy was stuck at 5'2... At 5'5". Yes, Alvin was 5'5". Mark had a hard time accepting Alvin was a grown up, and his short height only exacerbated the problem.

Mark shrugged, ignoring his own momentary confusion about his and his son's heights, and he focused on the movie again.

He looked at the actors, but his eyes were less and less on Evelyn. What was so alluring about her just a few minutes ago?, He couldn't say. She hadn't changed at all. She was gorgeous still. But not even her tits were attracting his attention.

On the other hand… That Rick guy was something else. Mark had always known Brendan Fraser was an attractive guy but… Wow! He hadn't noticed by how much.

His tiny cock hardened inside his shorts, as he imagined what it would feel like to be fucked by Rick O'Connell…

What? I'm not gay! Mark thought, almost jumping from his seat with widened eyes.

"You know, maybe that Evelyn is actually really hot," Alvin said, absentmindedly.

Both father and son looked at each other in shock. What was happening to them? Alvin never called a woman hot. Never. He almost looked disgusted amy time anyone called any woman hot. Alvin would never use the term with a woman! And Mark… He had never thought on a man in the way he just had… Never in his life...

Or had he?

His life looked different on his mind, once again. Cassie… They weren't in love. Not really. They were best friends! Mark tried his hardest to love her, but he just couldn't. She did love him, though. So they agreed to marry each other. As a front. They could just be best friends who married each other.

But Mark? He was gay. A complete and raging homosexual. No one could know, however. No, if Mark's parents learned of it back then? He didn't even want to imagine it.

Although he did imagine it. Years after Cassie tragically died, Mark came out of the closet. His parents initially rejected him. They even tried to get Alvin's custody from him.

Eventually, however, they accepted him. After all, he was their son. The same son who was the king of High School. The same one who was a Football Star, the first of the family to go to college. One who had his own business, which was thriving. He had given them a grandson already, so it was almost as if Mark had never been gay at all.

The community had a also a slow time accepting him. But he was beloved once again by most. Perhaps because he hadn't dated anyone since Cassie's death, focused only on his work and raising his son.

A straight son. Mark was glad. As much as he didn't have any issues with being gay himself, he was glad Alvin wasn't. It was way easier to be straight. You didn't have to hide your true self as much, if at all.

And the idea of Alvin having little Alvins was so cute he wanted to laugh with glee.

"I love you, bud. You know that, right?" Mark said.

Alvin's face was truly strange. Almost as if he had seen a ghost. Yet he nodded weakly.

"I must go. I want to go sleep. Night," Alvin said, promptly leaving the couch and going upstairs. Almost as if he was running away.

As for Mark? He had forgotten entirely the life where he used to be straight. He turned off the TV, and went to his room.

He was all hot and bothered after fantasizing about Rick O'Connell. He went to his nightstand, and took out his trusty pink dildo. Also a bottle of lube.

Fucking his own ass was way better than stroking his cocklet. Especially because he could fuck himself in front of a mirror, and see his muscular ass all in display…

There was nothing hotter for him.

[Alvin's POV]

Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

It had to be a joke. It truly had to be a joke! Please? This couldn't be true!

Alvin punched the door, incredibly mad about how his second wish had turned out.

He was taller. By three inches. A quarter of a foot. It was risible. What a waste! Sure, he didn't mind now being 5'5" instead of 5'2". It was way better. Not awesome, but better.

But he didn't want to be straight! Fuck! Really? He had never wished to be straight! And worse, he couldn't even fix it. Unlike college, he was now a breeder for life!

It wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't because his body was so much the one of a twink. Even with his huge cock, he was still short! And skinny! And doughy! And he was now so much more frustrated about all of it… He was still a virgin. No woman wanted to date him. They always forgot he existed the moment they saw his dad. They stopped talking to him when they learned Mark was gay.

And in dating apps? They either didn't believe his cock was real. Or didn't appreciate his dick pics. Why didn't they?! Alvin loved dick pics when he wss gay! What is wrong with females?

He shuddered as he realized he thought of women as females. Really? He was that kind of straight guy? His dad wasn't that much of an asshole when he was straight, so why would Alvin...?

Alvin didn't like that train of thought.

Really, he had a cursed luck. Of all things he could have gotten from the random swap, he got one of the worst trades. He couldn't take his dad rugged beauty? His muscles, the rest of his height? His good eyesight? His job?

No. Instead he was a gooner. A straight loser. Something his dad had never been. But because Alvin was still Alvin, becoming straight didn't make him a stud like his dad was.

In fact… Oh no.

His room. It was different. So much different.

Alvin had never liked anime. But his current self apparently did. He had a body pillow of Elysia from Honkai Impact the third. He had posters of her, and her expy Cirene. He played gachas now. He was a waifu collector. He wasted his money on the game and on bad porn of his waifu.

Alvin hated feeling his cock going hard at the sight of the 3D model of Cirene he now had in display. He had paid like a thousand bucks for it.

The memories of being a bratty and successful bottom were very dim now. He still had them. But his fondness for that life was dwindling. The idea of anything entering his ass was rather… Unsettling. He was very much a man, he wasn't gay.

Alvin stopped dead. But he was. He used to be gay! He liked it. He would do anything to be gay again!

He wanted to cry. But the idea of doing so made him cringe so hard he wanted to punch himself for even considering it. Of course! Because he was a straight guy who hated the idea of not being seen as manly...

What a rotten luck he had.

"Wait! I haven't done my dailies!" He said suddenly, running towards his phone to open the gacha game he liked the most.

He refused to look at the amulet at his nightstand. Alvin knew the pendant had no responsibility for Alvin's bad wish and worse luck. But who else could he blame? He didn't want to look at it. Tomorrow he would use it, try to improve his situation somehow.

Now he had to focus of farming with his Mono Remembrance premium team. He handy spent hundreds of dollars on his pink haired waifus for nothing, had he? He would jerk off to them later, he just needed to ensure he got his daily jades...

Next part

[hey-sacramento]

so help me fuckin god if this isn't Smosh Summer Games

[skuls-s]

nothing like telling a "friend" about a car accident and have them say "graaace" twice like they're kiat as disappointed as your parents ate

[cinema-whore]

NOOOOOOO WE DONT NEED ANOTHER VIDEO APP

[rakurairagnarok]

Batting for the other Team

It’s finally done!! This was a request from @bigbren1979 . I hope you like it my dude!! Please enjoy. I also have some interesting news coming up later today!!! Stay tuned!!

Brett Lawrie was a massive success on the baseball field. People loved seeing this very attractive man swing away, both men and women. Unfortunately for both of them, he was already taken, having a wife and kid. Even worse, Lawrie was a massive homophobe, making fun of and harassing all the gay guys that worked out at the gym. He didn't make it very obvious so he would not get into trouble, but everyone knew he really hated them all. 

Sadly for Lawrie, he messed with the wrong guy today. 

Andrew was having a beer with his friends in the local bar, when he saw Brett entering, clearly drunk. He sat down with his buds in a booth and immediately shouted for a waitress. When a guy approached the table, Lawrie and his friends immediately started calling him names. “Get us some beers, faggot” he said while spewing in his face. Andrew watched the scene unfold with his fists clenched. That bastard, always pestering the queer folk around town. He was about to get up to say something to the sportsman, when a thought entered his mind. A sly grin spread along his face as he sat back down and enjoyed the rest of his evening.

The following morning

Andrew walked into the gym, looking for his target. He found Brett on  the leg extension machine. Andrew moved over to the baseball player and smiled. 

“Hey man, You’re Brett Lawrie right? I’m a huge fan, dude! That last game was fantastic! Your swings were top tier!” Lawrie smiled. 

“Thanks bro! It was such a great game. I’m glad there are still some actual baseball fans around here, and not just fags.” Andrew bit his tongue and smiled. 

“Yeah man, been a fan for ages!” Lawrie beamed as his ego was stroked to high heaven. Andrew rummaged through his bag and took out a workout shaker.

“Hey man, so I wanted to give you this, it's a protein shake I developed myself. Gives you this hugeeee boost. Best workout you've ever had, trust me. And unlike  pre-workout, you don't even have to wait!!” Lawrie took the bottle with big eyes and took a swig. 

“Bro… this tastes divine!!” he took another sip and, kind of reluctantly, gave back the bottle to Andrew. Andrew saw the remorse in his eyes and smiled. 

“You know what man, you can keep that one, I got another one in my locker.” Brett looked up. “Are you sure… you don’t-” 

“I insist dude.” Andrew retorted and handed him the bottle.

Brett gazed at it and quickly took another mouthful. He stared up at Andrew and then immediately downed the whole bottle after which he  let out a massive belch. “Jezus that was fucking great man. Thanks a lot” 

Andrew grinned “No probz bro. Be sure to see me after your workout though. I can hook you up with some more” 

Lawrie nodded. “Yeah sure thing bro!” Andrew turned and started to walk towards the weights, starting his own workout.

In the meantime, Lawrie continued with renewed vigor. He had actually been almost done but the shake had given him an energy reset. He was ready to keep going. He continued to workout his legs and ass. His girlfriend loved his massive ass. When Lawrie was headed towards the Squat rack, he felt his stomach rumble. He chuckled. “Oh dear, there come the preworkout gasses. Oh well, people should know I've been here, they'd better be honored to smell me.” He said with a smug look on his face. But the farts and burps never came. Even when squatting down with 50 pounds on each side of the bar, not a single puff of air came out of him.

Instead, his body slowly started to swell up a bit. His lean body started to fill out with some fat and muscle. His rough slender arms started to fill out his shirt. His stomach roared again, this time enlarging his pecs into soft, warm cushions of flesh. Another rumble and he shrank down a few inches, but as he was squatting down at the same time, he didn't even notice. The former 6 foot athlete, was now an adorable 5 '7. With another rumble came another set of changes. His 30 year old face started to lose some years. Patches of aged skin started to smooth out, the few wrinkles he had pulled away, and his beard receded into a soft stubble. His stern face melted away into a soft and cute face with boyish charm. His short hair started to grow out and turned wavy. Lawrie bit his lips as they slowly plumped up, making him look very cute, but also very, very gay. He squatted down once more and the ink on his body started to wash away with all the sweat that ran down his frame. He now had smooth and youthful looking skin. His final squat and his body hair all but disappeared leaving behind a slight dusting of hair along his new juicy pecs. Having some energy left, Lawrie decided to put on some weights and continue the squats. With every squat his ass felt like it was on fire. Each rep made his ass bigger, and more jiggly. His below average rod also started to grow. Not just hard, but longer, and thicker too. His balls grew too, with every rep making them bigger and faster. Lawrie’s ass was getting bigger by the second, almost ripping his shorts. He was also getting smoother, all the hair sucking into his balls and shaft, leaving a perfect smooth member. 

He finally put down the bar and stood there, panting and sweating. “Fuck… that was amazing” he thought to himself. He grabbed his towel and headed to the locker room, ready to get some more of that delicious drink. As he opened the door he was met with an alluring smell that he could immediately place; it was the drink. He looked around and saw Andrew sitting on a bench, legs spread apart, with a towel around his waist, covering his manhood. 

“Hey bro… I “ Lawrie fell silent. His usual rough voice was gone. Instead, when he talked a youthful, squeaky voice rang through the room. 

“Hey man, you're finally done. Took you long enough. But damn you look good!” Lawrie looked down, and saw his clothes didn't fit him the same as they did when he put them on this morning. They were hanging lower on his body, but he filled them out much more.

He looked up in the mirror and screamed. Instead of the handsome, rugged face he knew, a new young, cute, and very queer looking face looked back at him.

“What did you do to me” He asked, in that annoyingly gay sounding voice. 

“You just love to make fun of all the gays around here, so I thought, why not make you experience it for a change” he spread apart his legs a bit more, and Lawrie got attacked by a fresh, warm wave of the smell. 

“Y-you …. Put something in the drink” Lawrie stammered, feeling a thread of drool run down his chin. 

“You look adorable like that, but yeah you're right. You want more right, that’s why you came? Want it from the source?” Andrew threw off the towel and Lawries knees buckled. The smell spread around the locker room, and more drool came spilling out of Lawries mouth. Andrew slowly walked over, his thick dick standing at attention. As he came closer there were no questions needed about what the source was; Lawrie only had eyes for Andrews dick. Andrew stopped just in front of Lawrie, his dick on eye level with the former star player. 

“Fuck you’re cute now.” Andrew cooed. He ran his thumb along Lawries soft jaw. “You want a taste, baby?” Lawrie gulped and bit his lip. 

“N-no I’m.. “ 

“Lick it boy” Andrew commanded, and Lawrie immediately complied. He opened his mouth and swallowed the rod. The bear groaned as the boy started to expertly suck him off. Lawries eyes opened wide as the familiar flavor of his drink started to fill his mouth. 

“That’s a good boy” these words filled Lawrie with a weird warm and fuzzy feeling. “You wanna make daddy cum, don't you?” Lawrie wanted to spit out the dick and curse out the man in front of him but instead he looked up into the bear's eyes and nodded. 

“Very good boy, you're such a cutie. I’m gonna take such good care of you” As Andrew said that he shot a load down Brett Lawries throat. This in turn made the boy cream his own pants, shooting out all the old negative parts of the married baseball player. What was left was Barry, Andrew’s soft boyfriend pup, who was such a massive slut for his Daddy's cock. 

“That was amazing daddy… did I do good?”

“You sure did pup… but I’ve got a question… What is your sexuality?”

“Im very gay Drewie. I’m so very gay for your cock… And those of your hot friends…”

Andrew laughed and he pulled his boyfriend up, giving him a warm embrace. “That's my boy. Lets get you cleaned up and home’

Later

It's been a few months since Brett Lawrie has been missing. The gay community of the town didnt really mind though. In his place, they got a new slut with a very cute face. Andrew’s new boyfriend made a very cheap onlyfans, and had plenty of time for visitors. His instagram is full of his dumb, cute face.  

Brett doesn’t remember much from his old life, only that it got substantially better when he and Andrew met. He now gets endless attention, money, and dick from him so he doesn't have much to complain about.