Cocky straight guy becomes a twink trophy boyfriend
He spots her across the living room before anyone else really registers sheâs arrived. New face, effortless confidenceâhis kind of challenge. He takes a second, smooths his shirt, then crosses the room like he already knows how this ends.
âHey,â he says, easy smile, leaning just enough to feel close without crowding. âYou look like youâre deciding whether this partyâs worth staying at.â
She glances at him, amused but unreadable.
âI was,â she says. âStill am.â
He chuckles, unfazed. âGive me five minutes. Iâll make it worth it.â
She tilts her head. âYou always open like that?â
âOnly when Iâm right.â
âConfident.â
âUsually rewarded for it.â
âUsually,â she echoes.
He grins, holding eye contact. âStick around. Youâll see.â
She doesnât answer. Just watches him, an amused smirk forming on her face. Jake returns the smirk- god she was hot. He couldn't wait to make her...
âNot my type.â
That actually lands. Jake blinks, thrown off, but only for a second. His smile returns quick, âAlright, maybe I started off wrong. Nameâs Jake.â
âLena.â
âSo what is your type?â
Her eyes travel over him, slower this time. âBulky guys arenât really my thing.â
Jake scoffs, rolling his shoulders. âHow can you not be into muscles?â
He flexes his arm, showing off muscle that no woman could resist. Only the peak isnât as full, the sleeve of his shirt hanging just a bit looser than it did a minute ago. He catches it, but maintains the smile. Figures the lighting is off.
She looks at him, unimpressed, âI said what I said.â
He smirks, leaning closer. âIâm more than just muscle, you know.â
âMhmm... Doubt that.â
"Yeah?â he smirks, "Give me a chance and I'll prove you wrong." He readjusts his shirt, barely registering how it no longer clings tightly to his chest.
âI'm good." She shrugs, "All that body hair isn't winning you any prizes with me."
Jake huffs a laugh. âWhat? Câmon! Thatâs what makes me a real man.â
âIs it?â
âYeah,â he says, glancing down as he casually drags his thumb along his forearm- then pauses.
The dark hair there looks⊠lighter. Thinner. He rubs again against increasingly smoother skin.
âThat's... that doesn't make sense.â he mutters, forcing a grin, though his fingers linger.
His other hand comes up, brushing his jaw. He paused. His usual rough stubble is... gone. Like he just shaved. His confidence flickers and he feels a cold shiver run through him as his chest prickles under his shirt.
Jake straightens abruptly. âWoah that's not...â Lena is smiling, a predatory look in her eye, "I... wait here, I'll be right back" He chuckles, nervously- mind racing. He needed a mirror. Just to check. To confirm.
He takes a half step back. Lena leans in just slightly, smiling.
âNo, stay,â Her voice lifts. âIâm enjoying our little conversation.â She runs a hand along his smooth jaw, "Please." Jake feels his heart flutter, "Just relax, tough guy."
Jake grunts as the tension drains out of him. He should be on edge. He was on edge. But he feels his posture soften, weight shifting onto one leg, hips angling slightly without permission. His stance opens up. Less guarded, more⊠inviting.
âWh-what?â
His lower back arches subtly as he shifts. His stance now blatantly emphasizing his ass. Jake stiffens at that, registering just how exactly he looked standing there.
âNo way...â he mutters, trying and failing to address his stance, "I look so..."
He tries to square himself again. To stand with the same commanding presence he usually did. But the adjustment slips, settling back into that same relaxed pose. His ass jutting out, begging for attention.
âYou did ask me what my type was." Jake's eyes widen as he realizes he's standing at eye level with Lena now, "But it's so much more than the physical. I like guys who know how to be vulnerable."
Jake swallows, âI mean... yeah, I can be vulnerable,â he says, but it comes out softer, less certain. His shoulders pull in as he talks, frame narrowing further, âItâs just, like... I donât usually say this stuff out loud, I just kinda⊠push it down, you know? Be a man about it...â He freezes, âWhy am I saying this?â His voice jumps... higher. Whinier.
Lena smiles, "It's okay to open up, Jake."
Jakeâs hand flies to his throat. âOkay, no... like why does my voice sound like this? This's not... like, not my voice.â It spikes again, edging toward a whine.
"Jake?" He recognizes that voice, "Dude, what the fuck?"
âBrett!â Jake blurts, cringing at the pitch of his voice, but relief floods in anyway. âOh my god... thank god you noticed! Somethingâs like⊠totally wrong!â
Brett steps in close, brow furrowed. âWhat happened to you, man?â
âI donât know!â Jake says quickly, voice light and uneven. âShe just, like... started saying stuff and now Iâm...â
A sharp snap. Brett goes still. His expression melts, eyes half-lidded, mouth slack. Drool dripping from the corner of his mouth.
Jake stares, âWhat? Brett?â
He grabs Brettâs arm instinctively and pauses. His fingers press into Brettâs bicep, lingering a second too long. Thereâs a flicker of something... appreciation?
Jake jerks his hand back and spins towards Lena, âLike, what did you do to him?!â
Lena barely glances at Brett. âDonât worry about him,â she says smoothly. âFocus on something more fun. Like gossip⊠or cute guys.â
Jake tries to hold onto his panic, but her voice threads through it, steady and impossible to ignore. His thoughts begin to blur at the edges, like something is quietly wiping them clean, and before he can latch onto what heâs losing, new ones slip inâlighter, easier, strangely compelling. He finds himself wondering whoâs attractive, who gets attention, who deserves it.
Behind him, Lena leans toward Brett, whispering into his ear. Jake turns without meaning to... and this time, he really looks. The line of Brettâs arms, the way his shirt fits across his chest, the way his slacked jaw and dim eyes look.
âOh wow.â Jakeâs breath slows and he licks his lips.
He'd seen Brett in the locker room after games. Knew what he was packing. He never thought much about that. But now? God... he wanted it now. He wanted Brett.
âNow youâre more my type,â Lena looks over Jake carefully, satisfied. âBut I doubt Iâm yours.â
Jake blinks, still looking at Brett, something warm and fluttery settling in his chest. He lets out a soft, airy laugh, barely even thinking about it.
âYeah, I mean⊠like⊠no offense, but⊠yeah.â He winces slightly at how natural that felt.
Lena smiles. âSo tell me... what is your type?â
Jake doesnât hesitate this time. He glances back at Brett, eyes lingering, a small, giddy smile slipping through. âI mean⊠Brett,â he says, almost giggling. âObviously.â
"He's kinda cute."
âKinda? Bitch, he's hot." Jake can't believe the words leaving his mouth, but they don't stop, "So like... we're..."
"Besties." Lena grins, "I needed a new gay bestie anyway." She looks over at Brett and snaps her fingers, "And what are besties for?"
Brett's face contorts and settles. The dull look in his eyes shifting as he looks over Jake. Replaced by something hungrier. Jake watches as Brett steps closer, slow, deliberate. His eyes stay locked on Jake.
âHey,â he says quietly, voice lower than Jake remembers. âYou look⊠different.â
Jake giggles, âDifferent good, right?â
Brettâs hand comes up, hesitating just a second before brushing along Jakeâs waist. âYeah,â he murmurs. âReally good.â
Jake inhales sharply, but he doesnât pull away. If anything, he leans, eyes flicking up through his lashes.
âWow, okayâŠâ he says, half-giggling. âYouâre, like, being really forward right now.â
Brett smirks faintly, closing the space between them. âYou donât seem to mind.â
Jake bites his lip, heat rushing to his face. âI mean⊠I don't.â
âMy roomâs just upstairs,â Brett murmurs, leaning in slightly. âYou wanna check it out?â
Jake lets out a soft, breathy laugh, glancing back at Lena for half a second before looking up at Brett again. âI mean⊠yeah,â he says, voice light and a little giddy, fingers brushing Brettâs arm. âLead the way.â
Lena watches for a beat, satisfied, âHave fun, you two!â
--------------
Jake moans loudly as Brett slams into him from behind. He arches his back, pushing his fat ass further along Brett's length. His own cock, smaller than he remembered it being, throbbing uselessly. But he doesn't care. Not when he can feel Brett balls deep inside him.
"Fuck yes," Jake gasps out, hands fisting in the sheets beneath him. "Harder, Brett. Fuck me harder." Brett grunts, gripping Jake's hips as he picks up the pace, "Oh fuck!"
Jake couldn't help but cry out in ecstasy each time Brett bottomed out. The same kinda sounds he imagined Lena making if the night had gone differently. But now? His world was narrowing, focused only on the feeling of the dick pounding into his thicc, juicy ass. Because for Jake, nothing else mattered in this moment - not his pride, not his former identity. And it never would again.
Constantly annoyed by his androgyny, David stumbles onto a spam ad that leads to his first facial hair and unknowingly condemns his latest overly masc ex to the twinkdom he's leaving behind.
Pretty standard role swap/masc theft! Twinky bottom to hairy top though much of the opposite changes happen off screen. At any rate, hope you enjoy this tale of Twink Theft! -Occam
And so began the same argument that has led to the end of each and every one of Davidâs previous relationships. Sure, he knows heâs beautiful. Angelic many of his one night stands and observers from afar frequently point out. Heâs a model by default and his face card is perfect bait for men to just fall at his feet.
David frequently finds himself with men almost stereotypically masculine, alpha bros and DL hoes are always drawn to his androgyny. But rarely do they ever consider anything but his looks. When the cherubic man can no longer hold back his ire at being considered just a pretty face they fight and then abandon him for some other waifish twink. Leaving him feeling like nothing more than a soft-skinned doll for them to play with and abandon.
Curled up in the passenger seat of his current horndog flingâs car, David looks from underneath his tangle of perfectly coiffed curls as Mattias just stares down the open road. Glancing at the hairy jungles covering the manâs torso and pits, David yearns to feel the scratch of hair against his body. The closest thing he can ever experience to growing it himself.
For half a moment the model believes that perhaps Mattias is reflecting, thinking about their argument. Considering Davidâs point of view at all. When a hand drifts to adjust a bulge clearly visible in his pants itâs clear thereâs only one thing on his mind. And David is certainly not going to let that happen tonight.Â
âYouâre not even listening.â
âShiiiit, I mean câmon babe. Be serious. You couldnât even grow facial hair if you tried. I just dunno why youâre being such a lil bitch about it.â
Bony arms hugging his long legs, draped with pants he purloined from a shoot, David feels a fire burning within him. Heâs not even been allowed to try. His agency would can him on the spot. Staring at the small mustache decorating Mattiasâ upper lip he reaches to feel his own smooth, soft face. Heâs going to try.
âI donât care what you think, Iâm going to stop waxing. Keep complaining, see what else I might decide to try. Asshole.â
Eyes flitting to his passenger, Mattias reaches over to feel Davidâs inner thigh. âSo, uhhh, that means weâre not-â
âFuck off you horny fucking- Spend half an hour thinking about anything but my ass and maybe, maybe I wonât lose your number.â
Clicking his tongue, Mattias throws his head against his headrest and starts rerouting to drop David off at his home. Sure that his dick is anything worth craving he assumes Davidâll come crawling back to him by the end of the week, femme-er than ever. Smirking as he nods farewell to the man, he imagines soft hairless cheeks bouncing on him come Tuesday and quickly redownload Grindr to try and satisfy his still throbbing cock.
Watching yet another mindless jerk abandon him to his insecurities, David is of a different mind. This time itâs going to be different. As soon as the tail lights of Mattiasâ shit box are out of sight, David begins his research.Â
Itâs not long at all before David comes across a targeted ad. Formatted like any other, on the left thereâs a twink that the model swears heâs seen before, on the right is a perpetually bear-faced man. Face overgrown with itchy stubble and capstoned by a burly mustache that makes Davidâs mouth water.
Averse to cumming in his pants from a spam-ad, David does his best to stop imagining the twinkâs journey to become the hairy hunk opposite him. He can just picture the bleach blonde hair giving way to that ruddy brown as his hairline retreats. Stubble growing so quickly itâs not even worth trimming. David bites his lip to stop from imagining his bulky figure out of frame.
Trailing past both the familiar ditzy twinkâs lolling tongue and the alluring garden of chest fur on his alleged new self, David reads the caption. âHow I became a man with ONE simple trickâ
Rather than inviting whatever malware hides behind this jpeg onto his system, David scrawls through his instagram hoping against hope that he does actually know this man. Lo and behold he miraculously finds him, though as of late the twinkâs has been dry.
Refusing to acknowledge the reality that this ad probably just stole an image from this mystery modelâs account, David prepares to cold-DM this man he doesnât really know. Desperate to feel the way he has always craved, desperate to change, he types his message:
âHey Hi! Peyton right? Funny thing :P I just found an ad of u and this like,,, lumberjackey otter? U know anything about this?â
Within the minute the man replies:
âlmaooo ya thas me dude so u wanna fucc or what?â
Shocked at the bizarre response, there are a few false starts before David lands on a message. While he certainly wouldnât be opposed to getting fucked by the man on the right, his eyes are on the prize of being more like him than anything else.
âAhhhh unfortunately I was more just wondering about the trick the ad mentioned. Like,, is that real? Surely thats like a joke huh?â
Across town and annoyed at the boner that wonât be satisfied now that Peyton knows what David wants, the hirsute horndog whines and starts absentmindedly playing with his cock as he prepares to offer David the route to join him. Much like Davidâs string of horny tops, heâs slightly disappointed for the world to lose such a pretty boy, but he would never stand between someone who wants to join him in his most-masculine form.
And he knows itâs not the only change to erupt from Davidâs ascension.
âits easy brother just click the link and type the guys name inâ
âThe guy?â
âthe dude who made u feel like shit lil bro sumone u want to take down a pegâ
Obeying the strange manâs prescription, David takes a deep breath before clicking the ad to find nothing but a small empty text box. Left with nothing to go off besides the manâs words, David pictures the most recent jerk to wrong him.â
Imagining Mattiasâ sneer as David explained the pain he feels when he looks in the mirror, the mustache twitching with his lips is impossible to ignore. He yearns to just rip it off the manâs face and put it on his own. David quickly types his name into the box. And nothing happens.
MATTIAS
Worried heâs fallen for some phishing scam or at the very least made a fool of himself, David quickly hits his keyboard to ask for next steps from Peyton:
âWhat now?â ⊠âHello, you there? I typed his name inâ ⊠âK. Well thanks for nothingâ
After spamming the man who got him this far with a few more dms, unaware that the man has simply muted his notifications to quickly masturbate, David refuses to be awake any longer and falls into his bed. Tomorrow heâll be over it. Itâll be just another day. Heâll go to a shoot, pose, go home, do his regimen, and then go to bed again.Â
 Sinking into his mattress, David stares at his ceiling. Dimly lit by the computer monitor left on he swears he can see Mattiasâ cocky face watching him. After a blink he sees his own, gaunt and smooth, like carved marble.
Seeing his face reflected in the funhouse mirror of his mindâs eye, David doesnât know when sleep overtakes him. When he begins to dream about the man he is going to be, a small smile twitches across his sleepful lips as the slightest itch begins to burn atop them.
The changes he finds in the morning are already too drastic to outright explain, if he could notice anything new besides the slight but unmistakable new mustache, that is. Fingertips instantly poking against the adamant new prickles decorating his face, David rushes to the bathroom to find his new reflection.
Quickly tearing out his phone to get permanent proof of his first facial hair beyond peach fuzz, David is ignorant to how his messy ringlets retracted into the spiky new fade that crowns his slightly retracted hairline.
So focused on the new lip candy as to miss this most prominent of changes, the many more minute alterations absolutely breeze past the excitable new man. Staring at the stubble promising future growth on his chin, he doesnât notice the rougher hands holding up his phone or the ruddier complexion covering his face.Â
Underneath the shirt he fell asleep in the first steps of body hair begin to slowly prickle out. Struggling in a biome designed to prevent regrowth, Davidâs lasered chest and perma-waxed pits tingle as the first brave new curls begin the first steps towards a total rout of his smooth twinkish form.
Unable to do anything but grin as he delights in the first glimpse of a life and body he never truly saw for himself, David rushes to thank Peyton for putting him onto that strange site. He canât believe all it took was some manifestation! Funny how a stupid little text-box prompt could be so helpful!
Blissfully unaware of the ocean of changes brewing beneath his skin, David is waylaid by a handful of notifications. Grin turning to a smirk as he imagines itâs his manager on his ass for being late to a shoot; little does he know heâs got a far bigger surprise in store. Scratching at the barely noticeable itch in his pits, his fingers free the musk that had been baking all night under his heavy shirt.
Half-preparing to send the selfie he took to the man who fought for him to stay femme more than anyone else, David instead finds the handful of texts are from his personal trainer. Of course heâs had one since he was brought on by his agency, but reading the handful of missed messages, David is thrown for a loop.
As far as he could remember their routines have always been on keeping him lithe. Maintaining his stick thin figure. Ensuring his cortisol stays low at any cost. To see message after message tearing into David for not taking strength training and bulking up seriously completely derails his train of thought.Â
Something deep within his chest turns at the idea and without even changing into something more appropriate for the gym, David tears out the door and sprints to his trainerâs side. With every step further from his austere apartment, his body continues to adapt to its new status quo.
Calves designed to be draped with baggy pants burst with muscle as each rushing pace springs with more strength. Working from increasingly strained shoes upward, his calves begin to blanket with a soft garden of hair. Burgeoning curls tug at the air soaring by as they yearn to connect with the thickening patch of pubes surrounding a permanent-semi that David is struggling with as he continues his heady jog.
Before he even arrives at the gym he has already become an altogether different man. The step-above-peachfuzz mustache that languished on his face when he woke up has continued to thicken and now hangs entirely over his upper lip. Across his whole body his bony figure has continued to fill out from the exertion of his sprint to the gym.Â
Biceps bulge onto his thin arms as they cut through the morning air on his run. Sleeves of a shirt not designed to be within a city-block of a gym are quickly strained as dark stains under his burgeoning shoulders show the beginnings of his tangled pits seeding proof of their existence.
Smelling the unpleasant odor of his morning breath joining the aura of body odor steaming in his wake, David feels his underwear strain as his hips readjust and grow mid stride. Panting like a dog he moans from soreness burning as new muscle strands thicken and bulge onto his powerful limbs.Â
Filled with gratitude greater than he can understand to the man who ushered him into this ecstatic change, he once more goes to message Peyton only to find a plethora of new messages from none other than Mattias.Â
âWhat did you fucking do to me you bitch.â
Absolutely no idea what thatâs about, David stares dumbfounded at the screen before his attention span in high-demand is summoned by his trainer as he bumbles into the gym, late. âYou ready to go or what princess?â Butterflies in his stomach quiver at the words, heâs not a princess anymore. And heâs going to prove it to Mattias, his trainer, and anyone else who gets in his way.
His chest burns with a need to grow as he makes his way over to a bench. The act of laying down alone causes his thin chest to bulge larger. The buttons that always hung loosely on his sternum fly off into the gym as pecs fill his sweat-stained shirt to its breaking point before sending lancing tears further down his chest.
Through each new open seam and widening hole, the hidden hair prickling across Davidâs torso makes itself known. Having expanded well beyond a paltry patch connecting a handful of curls swirling around his formerly petite nipples, the swath of tangled jungle covering his bulging pecs races to make itself seen. His growing chest aids in this as the single button still feigning modesty on his shirt bursts free to reveal the curls climbing towards his neck.
Feeling the pump of growth, his heart racing, David grunts and groans as torso firms and expands to compete with his strengthening limbs and eye-catching chest. Quickly filling the shirt like rising dough in a tin, David barely holds back a horny scream as he feels the fabric tear to shreds off his body.Â
Standing nearby for obvious reason, Davidâs trainer simply stares blankly as his once doelike ward has grown into a stag. Watching as his face prickles with thicker stubble surrounding his gritted teeth, staring as arms that he swears were to be deliberately untouched thicken and trail with veins, the trainer has a burning urge to keep him here in the gym as long as possible.
To this end he reaches up to usher David to the next machine, opting to reach for the small of the manâs back for lusty greed alone, he bites his lip as he feels the beginnings of his traineeâs ass hair creeping up towards his shoulders. Unlike the still perma-poised David, the trainer doesnât quite quiet a whimper from feeling up his sweaty back. âMhhmm~â
Shocked to hear as much from someone David wouldâve sworn was straight, David turns in surprise to stare at his visibly horny trainer. Blush paints the broish manâs cheeks and the twitching package he canât hide makes it clear heâs certainly not red in the face from his own scant workout.
Stepping away David watches as his needy hands fall away. Gulping with need, thereâs surely a part of the hitherto professional trainer that knows there is something strange alluring him to David, but when he sees the growing manâs bicep twitch even larger his train of thought has no recourse but to pull out all the stops to keep him close.
David knows heâs hot stuff, and this wouldnât be the first time heâs gotten googoo eyes from a âstraight man,â but somethingâs off. Scratching his head he feels how his hair texture has shifted. As clear as he feels itchy tufts of thick hair in his pits rubbing the sides of his chest as he moves his arm, his thicker fingers feel hair that is both thicker and thinner than it should be.
Texture more akin to fur than the downy curls he once had, in real time he feels whatâs left of his modelâs do retract into a tight and rough buzz. Memories of a hair routine before bed every night dissolve to be replaced by David just rolling into a barber and getting the most basic cut they have to offer.
Glancing towards his trainer he feels something profound shift within his chest. Heâs used to attention sure, but having a truly masc man stare at him with needy jealousy has awoken something within him. His own cock twitches and he reaches down to adjust it. When the trainerâs needy eyes follow Davidâs hand his newfound cockiness only grows.
He can almost feel the thick hair coating his chest thicken as his adorerâs mouth falls open in need. He does feel the cock that heâs only recently begun to fondle grows even more, only a semi thus far if David didnât know any better heâd swear it was already larger than the most turgid erection heâs ever had.Â
Having humored the man enough, Dave feels a profound urge to play with his food for just a second longer before dipping. Glancing at the muscular figure heâs always admired he doesnât feel nearly the same heat that the trainer evidently has for him. Feeling his phone still blowing up in his back pocket heâs reminded heâs got a bitch- er, heâs still got Mattias to deal with.
To point he challenges his trainer.Â
âWhatâs the problem with you?â
Sheepishly the trainer averts his eyes from the center of Daveâs chest where the hair is so thick that one truly can only guess that thereâs skin beneath. Halfheartedly pointing to the next machine he viscerally feels any authority he once had over Dave slip away.
âJust let me go.â
Knowing deep within himself that this is profoundly wrong, that the twink he was hired to keep fit and keep femme has grown into a man like heâs never seen, when Dave pushes past him towards the exit of the gym the only thing he can do is giggle from feeling his sweaty skin against his own. Dave doesnât even look back as he stomps out of the gym, hairy feet exposed as the tennis shoes he had on finally give way to the massive stompers this top heavy body requires.
Left behind, the trainer feels lightheaded as the source of his confusion leaves him be. Slightly worried heâs going to get chewed out for something out of his control, by the time Dave pulls out his phone and begins walking towards Mattiasâ he doesnât even remember having Dave as a client. Itâs not like his employers had any interest in fashion for men who think deodorant is optional.
Finally free from the gym, Dave allows the asshole blowing up his phone some attention. Every message is whinier than the one that came before. Scrolling up to the first, Dave finds it the usual aggressive diatribe heâd expect from a man he chose explicitly for being a macho loser but with every step closer to the present his messages tinge with emotion.
âI no u did this u little bitch when i see u its over
âLook idk what I did but u need to stop it. Please I cant show up to my boys lookin like thisâ
âFine, shit! Maybe I deserved it but you gotta stop. I donât want to be some hairless twink.â
âPleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease.â
Every message only makes the hunger within Dave grow. Reading Mattias beg and whine and cry only makes him feel more. Bigger, hairier, hornier. Each heavy step towards this manâs house hits harder as his thighs bulk up to support his widening chest and the thickening cock between them.Â
The mustache on his face thickens and hangs lower to cover the entirety of his upper lip. The dense thicket on his pecs decides itâs not enough as thick curls launch towards his shoulders and musty pits. His midsection continues to thicken as the thin arrow of a treasure trail that once pointed to his tangled pubes widens to engulf the whole of his heavy new muscle gut.Â
Gym shorts he didnât remember changing into are taut on his ass as it sends a couple tears straight down his ass crack, partly exposing his jockstrap and the dense tangles it struggles to corral to the open air. Dave canât help but continue to read Mattiasâ appeals as he grows. Thick vein bulging down his biceps as a coat of curls races down his muscular shoulders to meet the prodigious jungle on his forearms.
Grunting as he feels his cock strain the front of his shorts he wonders if heâs going to make it to Mattiasâ without being criminally indecent. Seeing his thick cockhead near the lip of his shorts he finds Mattiasâ most recent messages have switched their tune.
âIâll fucking do anything babe please, anything but my cock.â
âI wish I had a cock like yoursâŠ
âGod youâre so hot, I just wish I could be more like youâŠâ
Doubletaking at the idea of this once vainer than life machismo obsessed douche yearning to be like him, less than a moment later Dave smirks and remembers his reality. Of course Mattias wants to be like him, who wouldnât. The twinkâs wrapped around his meaty finger just like anyone lucky enough to get to ride on his cock would be. Scratching his hairy gut he decides he wants to see his prize.Â
Deigning to reply at last, Dave just sends two words. âFacetime meâ
Within a second Daveâs phone is ringing for Mattias. Seeing his old profile picture Dave canât recognize the middling man before him. Nothing like the twink he knows and loves to fuck, still he lets the mystery manâs face stay on his phone for a moment longer to leave Mattias waiting. Offering the perfect juxtaposition between Mattiasâ new and old self.
âHey daddyyyy~ Are you coming over or what?â
Even the most powerful supernatural effect couldnât stop Dave from being stunned in his tracks, shocked at the twink, jittery with need, now performatively shimmying on the facetime call. Staring at the pathetic remains of the mustache and goatee Mattias once prided himself over, Dave feels his cock twitch and drip with pre as it finally escapes his shorts.
Accidentally grabbing a few curls on his thigh as he yanks his shorts back down to poorly hide his throbbing rod, Dave grunts in pain which causes Mattias to gasp as his thicker lips purse into a pout. âAre you okay baby?â
His airy whine drives Dave into one final wave of changes as he grunts out a âBe right over. Youâd better be ready.â Shorts almost shearing off his meaty thighs as he begins sprinting towards his layâs home, Dave pants like an animal in heat as he feels everything about him grow more extreme. No inch of skin is spared as his coat spreads to cover every inch of his sweaty skin.Â
Swinging between his legs, Dave makes no attempt to hide his thick cock during his flight. Prioritizing speed above everything, his hairy feet do their best and miraculously the accidental nudist arrives at Mattiasâ house with nothing but his hairy ass having been seen.
Stumbling into the front door, always left unlocked for him, Dave follows his nose to the floral scented bedroom and finds Mattias just where he wants him. Even thinner and smoother than he was on their call moments ago, Dave smirks at the pouf of manicured curls on his head and the pitiful few strands of hair clinging to his pits, the dregs of his masculinity.
Pouncing on the bed to straddle Mattias, he sees a sparkle in the twinkâs eyes as his massive cock bounces hard in the air. Shocked at just how large it is compared to Mattias thin waist he rests upon the small man and rubs his smooth skin with hands rough from the gym and a life lived with altogether no attention to skincare.
Feeling his cock buck of its own accord as it spews viscous pre onto Mattiasâ hairless chest, Dave experiences for the first time just how powerful it feels to be The Man in bed, in a relationship, in life. Give him a few seconds and he might just cum from the very feeling.
Doing his best to restrain quick-cumming he leans down to whisper in Mattiasâ ear, he feels his mustache scratch the twinkâs regimented cheek. âGet on your stomach and letâs get this started.â Blushing like heâd never have done before, what is Mattias to do but obey the sexiest man heâs ever been with.
đźđč La gigantesca casa abbandonata in fondo al paese era un vero e proprio labirinto di stanze e corridoi; nessuno era mai riuscito a esplorarla tutta. Gli abitanti del posto avevano imparato a girarci al largo, e quei pochi che osavano avvicinarsi tornavano raccontando le cose piĂč assurde â sempre che tornassero.
Ma quel letto era maledetto e proiettĂČ nella sua mente un'allucinazione vividissima: un ragazzo dalla pelle chiara gli succhiando l'uccello, ed era incredibilmente piacevole. Mentre si godeva il momento, rapito dal piacere dell'orgasmo imminente, il corpo di Michael iniziĂČ a cambiare.
Quella stanza era infatti legata a una delle tante leggende della casa: chiunque si sdraiasse su quel letto avrebbe sognato di fare sesso con l'ultimo occupante, per poi trasformarsi fisicamente in lui. Quando Michael raggiunse il culmine e riaprĂŹ gli occhi, tornĂČ alla realtĂ , ma realizzĂČ subito che i suoi amici non gli avrebbero mai creduto. Ormai aveva l'aspetto di un perfetto sconosciuto.
đŹđ§ The gigantic abandoned house at the edge of the village was a literal labyrinth of rooms and corridors; no one had ever managed to explore it entirely. The locals had learned to steer clear of it, and those few who dared to approach returned telling the most absurd stories â assuming they returned at all.
Michael's friends had dared him to spend the night there and he, out of bravado, had accepted. After wandering around for about twenty minutes, he stumbled upon a room that was decidedly different from the others: there wasn't a speck of dust nor an object out of place, and the bedsheets even smelled of fresh laundry. Without thinking twice, Michael decided that was the perfect place to sleep, stripped down, and layed.
But that bed was cursed and projected a vivid hallucination into his mind: a fair-skinned boy was sucking his cock, and it was incredibly pleasurable. As he enjoyed the moment, captivated by the pleasure of the impending orgasm, Michael's body began to change.
That room was, in fact, tied to one of the house's many legends: anyone who lay on that bed would dream of having sex with its last occupant, only to physically transform into him. When Michael reached his climax and opened his eyes, he returned to reality, but immediately realized that his friends would never believe him. He now looked like a complete stranger.
The summer sun beat down on the city park's workout station, reflecting off the glistening, salt-stained skin of Hunter and Trent. They had just crushed their final set, their lungs burning with a satisfying ache. These were men built of granite and gritâHunter, with his dark, aggressive buzzcut, and Trent, whose polished, hairless scalp shone under the midday heat. Their rib-knit tank tops groaned against the sheer mass of their pectoral muscles, every fiber of their bodies speaking of years spent chasing "gains and gals."
Hunter reached into his gym bag and pulled out two chocolate bars. The packaging was suspiciously familiar, mimicking a Twix but labeled in bold, playful lettering: Twink.
"Got these from some kid handing them out at the park entrance," Hunter grunted, tossing one to Trent.
"Twink? They couldnât think of better name for rebranding?" Trent chuckled, his voice a deep, gravelly baritone. He tore the wrapper open with his teeth. Without a second thought, they both bit in. The chocolate was unnaturally sweet, melting over their tongues like a velvet promise.
Suddenly, the heavy air around them seemed to shimmer.
A strange, electric tingle began at the base of Hunterâs spine and raced upward. He looked down and gasped. His rugged, sweat-soaked black tank top was thinning, the fabric pulling apart into a neon-green mesh that clung to his shrinking frame with provocative transparency. His heavy black shorts bled into a soft, pastel violet, the rugged canvas softening into the texture of tight, distressed denim. Trent was undergoing a similar alchemy; his grey shirt turned into a glowing, neon-pink mesh, while his massive, tree-trunk thighs were now encased in sky-blue denim micro-shorts.
"What the hell is happening?" Trent tried to shout, but the words came out in a melodic, breathy tenor, an octave higher than before.
They stood frozen, locked in an intense, wide-eyed stare as the world around them blurred into a haze of heat and pheromones. The transformation was no longer just a change of clothes; it had become something deeply intimate and visceral, a structural rewriting of their very beings.
Hunter watched in stunned silence as Trentâs massive, boulder-like shoulders began to soften. The heavy, corded musclesâonce hard as graniteâseemed to liquefy under his skin, the masculine bulk melting away like wax near a flame. His broad, thick neck slimmed down, revealing the elegant, sharp ridges of his collarbones, which now stood out like delicate marble carvings. There was a strange, delicious heat radiating between them, a magnetic pull that made the air feel thick and electric.
Their faces, once rugged and weather-beaten, began to soften. Their jawlines remained sharp but lost their aggressive edge, their skin becoming poreless and radiant as if kissed by an eternal glow. The dark, tribal tattoos that had defined their biceps simply faded into the air like smoke.
Hunter felt a sudden, frantic tingling against his own scalp. His dark, stubbly buzzcut began to itch with a manic energy as hair sprouted and lengthened at an impossible rate. Dark, silky strands twisted and curled, shaping themselves into a messy, textured crop that fell provocatively over his brow, framing his now-softened features. He reached up, his fingers feeling the unfamiliar softness of his own hair, and his breath hitched.
Across from him, the change in Trent was even more breathtaking. His polished, bald head was suddenly alive with growth, a shock of stylish, sun-kissed blonde hair erupting from the skin. It grew into a perfect "short sides, long top" look, the golden fringe catching the sunlight and casting soft shadows over eyes that were becoming wider and more luminous by the second.
The internal sensation was a dizzying rush of euphoria mixed with a strange, submissive relief. The crushing weight of their heavy framesâthe sheer effort of carrying all that "alpha" massâwas simply evaporating. Hunter felt his ribcage narrow, his thick, power-lifterâs waist cinching inward into a supple, slender midsection. His skin, once scarred and coarse from years of gym sweat and grit, rippled and smoothed out, becoming porcelain-soft and glowing with a youthful radiance. The coarse hair on his chest and stomach simply vanished, leaving behind a smooth, hairless canvas that begged to be touched.
Trent let out a soft, airy gasp as he felt his own center of gravity shift. The massive, tree-trunk thighs that had once squatted hundreds of pounds were leaning out, transforming into long, lithe legs. The most intense sensation, however, was at his hips; his heavy, muscular glutes were tightening and lifting, reshaping themselves into a firm, high bubble butt that strained against the new, light-blue denim of his shorts. He felt incredibly light, almost ethereal, as if the gravity of his old life had finally let go.
They weren't just losing their bulk; they were being refined. Every rough edge was being polished away, every aggressive line smoothed into a curve. They looked at each other not as rivals or workout partners, but with a new, shimmering curiosity. The "gym bros" were gone, replaced by two boys who felt beautiful for the very first time. The air between them hummed with this new, delicate energy, a silent acknowledgment that their lives were no longer about the weight of the bar, but the lightness of each otherâs touch.
In a matter of seconds, the thirty-year-old bodybuilders had vanished. In their place stood two radiant eighteen-year-old boysâthe very definition of twinks.
Hunter looked down at his new, slender hands. His skin was smooth as porcelain, devoid of a single coarse hair. He felt weightless, as if he could dance instead of walking. Trent looked at him, his eyes now larger, framed by long, dark lashes, and sparkling with a newfound mischief. A sudden, pure burst of youthful laughter escaped them both. They sounded free of ego and full of joy.
The brutal, monochromatic world of iron plates, chalk-dusted palms, and primal, guttural grunting was more than just goneâit was a foreign language they no longer spoke. That old life, built on the heavy burden of "maximum effort" and the toxic pursuit of hyper-masculinity, felt like a restrictive skin they had finally shed. The relentless, ego-driven obsession with "gains and gals" had been incinerated by the sweetness of the magic bar, replaced by a pulsing, magnetic anticipation for "clubs and boys."
Hunter looked at Trent, and for the first time, he didn't see a "brah" or a rival; he saw a gorgeous, lithe creature who mirrored his own newfound delicacy. The realization of their new identity as twinks washed over them like a warm, silk tide. They weren't just smaller; they were pretty. They were the kind of boys they used to look down upon from their pedestals of muscle, but now, feeling the incredible lightness of their slender limbs and the smooth, hairless expanse of their own skin, they realized they had never felt more powerful. There was a new kind of strength in being desired, in being supple, and in the freedom of their new, queer reality.
Hunter reached out, his long, elegant fingers grazing the porcelain-smooth skin of Trentâs forearm. The contact was electric, sending a shiver of pure, homoerotic heat through his narrowed frame. He wasn't looking for a fist bump or a slap on the back; he wanted to feel the softness, the intimacy of a man who understood this beautiful, feminine shift. Trent didn't pull away; instead, he squeezed back without a momentâs hesitation, his larger, doll-like eyes searching Hunterâs with a bold, inviting heat.
"You look... incredible," Trent whispered, his new tenor voice vibrating with a melodic sweetness.
"So do you," Hunter replied, a playful smirk dancing on his now-refined lips.
Hand in hand, their slender fingers interlaced perfectly, they stepped off the harsh rubber mats of the workout area, final departure from the temple of testosterone. Their stride was no longer a heavy, wide-set lumber; it was light, rhythmic, and undeniably graceful. Their hips swayed with a new, effortless fluidity, their perfectly shaped bubble butts catching the fading sunlight beneath the tight denim of their shorts. They moved with the confidence of boys who knew they would be the center of attention on any dance floor.
As the sun was setting down, they knew that a long, glittering night stretched out before them, filled with the promise of thumping basslines, strobe lights, and the admiring gazes of other men. The gym era was dead. It was time to head home, pick out the most revealing outfits they could find, and get ready for the club. They were young, they were beautiful, and they were finally ready to live.
He shouldâve known better than to break up with Owen like that.
Owen had worshipped himâTyler, the hot, cocky gym rat with the beard, the thick chest, the sweaty pits, and the aggressive fuck-you energy that turned heads. Tyler thought he could just dump Owen, call him âclingy,â and move on.
But Owen had whispered something strange that night as he left. Something Tyler barely remembered. Something like:
âEvery time you hook up, youâll lose a little more of what makes you⊠you.â
Tyler didnât think much of it. Until hookup number one.
---
It was a quick grind with a guy from the appâsome smooth, lean cutie who begged for Tyler to top him hard. But afterward, Tyler noticed the mirror. His beardâit looked... patchy. His jawline softer. He figured it was just the lighting.
Then hookup number two. And this time? When he stood to piss afterward, his cock looked⊠different. Shorter. Not by much. But noticeable. His chest hair seemed thinner too. He rubbed his hand across his pecs and shivered. That used to feel powerful. Now it just felt⊠off.
---
Hookup three was with a tall, hairy man who whispered things like âGood boyâ and âYouâre cuter when youâre quiet.â
Tyler hated how hard it made him.
He hated that the next morning his leg hair was almost gone.
He hated how tight his shorts had suddenly become around his now-rounder, jiggly ass.
He texted Owen.
âWTF did you do to me.â
Owen replied with a single sentence.
âYou made fun of twinks like they were beneath you. So now youâre becoming one.â
Tyler cursed. He stormed to the mirror and shouted at himselfâhis once-deep baritone now a shaky midtone.
---
By hookup number five, Tyler couldnât grow stubble. Not a single hair on his body remained below the neck. His voice cracked constantly. His cock? Smaller than any guy heâd ever dated.
At the club, a stranger grabbed his ass.
âDamn, youâre cute. Whatâs your name, boy?â
Tyler turned red.
He tried to bark back, to reclaim himself.
But all that came out was:
ââŠTy.â
Soft. Breathless.
He let the man buy him a drink.
---
That night, Tyler sat on his bed, legs crossed tightly, scrolling through Owenâs feed. Owen looked confident. Hairier than before. Smug. Masculine. Tyler felt a shiver run down his smooth spine.
He tried to touch himself, but the shame was so thick, so real. His tiny cock twitched uselessly. He whimperedâpathetically.
In the distance, his phone pinged with another message from Owen:
âGo ahead. Hook up again. Just a few more to go⊠and youâll be perfect.â
Tyler clutched his pillow, grinding his thighs together, biting his lip.
He hated this.
---
Tyler hadnât left the house in days.
He couldnât face the world like thisânot as himself, at least. Not in this pathetic, pale, silky-skinned body that looked more like a boytoy than the dominant top he once prided himself on being.
No chest hair. No leg hair. No beard. Just a faint, helpless blush that never seemed to leave his face and a tight, bouncy little ass that everyone seemed to stare atâwhen he dared to go out.
And that was the worst part. How much he missed being stared at. Not with fear. Not with awe. But hunger. Heâd become the exact kind of guy he used to use and toss aside.
And the only one who truly saw what he had become⊠was Owen.
---
He tapped the message out slowly, every letter like a little death:
âOwen⊠I canât stop it. Iâve tried. Iâve shaved, waxed, even chanted dumb shit in the mirror hoping to grow my beard back. I canât even jack off anymore without crying.
I need you.
Please.â
No response.
He sent another photo: himself, shirtless, blushing, legs pulled up under him, cock soft and tiny against his thigh, a pink tank top barely clinging to his now-slender frame.
This time, Owen responded:
âSay it.â
Tylerâs thumbs trembled. He swallowed hard.
âTake me back, sir.â
A second later:
âBe waiting at the door. Naked.â
---
He obeyed. Shame in every step. He stood by the door, trembling, eyes wide, arms at his sides like a nervous pet. His cockâwhat was left of itâwas hard from the anticipation, humiliatingly so.
When Owen finally arrived, he smelled like cedarwood and sweat, thick beard trimmed, chest pushing against a fitted flannel. Bigger than Tyler remembered. Or maybe Tyler was just smaller now.
Owen walked in without a word.
He circled Tyler slowly. Tyler stared at the floor, breathing shallow, his cheeks redder with each step Owen took.
âYou look pathetic,â Owen said, finally.
Tyler nodded.
âYou used to be the kind of man whoâd spit on a guy like this.â
Tyler swallowed.
ââŠI know, Sir.â
Owen leaned in, close to his ear.
âAnd now? What are you?â
Tyler whimpered.
ââŠYour boy.â
âLouder.â
âIâm your boy!â
Owen grabbed Tylerâs ass, rough, fingers digging in deep.
âIâll fuck you until you forget your name, Ty. Not that you need one anymore. Youâre just mine.â
Tyler moaned. Not in pain. Not in protest. But because this was his life now, he'd never feel like a real man again.
âI get it Joshy. You earned this sweat after training me so hard. Now cover up, you look like a whore.â Mike said condescendingly, throwing a noticeably smaller towel in Joshyâs direction. Mike grabbed what appeared to be a letter from his shorts as well. He tucked it into his towel as he led the way to the sauna.
Joshy quickly covered up his manhood, flipping his cock upward and tightly wrapping his towel around his midsection. Once his cock was put away Joshy realized just how small his towel was. His thick bubble butt stuck out obscenely, barely covered by the thin fabric.
âDonât you think this towel is a little fruity?" Joshy asked.
âFruity? What a funny word. Joshy. Tell me honestly. What did you think of me before this afternoon?â Mike asked.
âI thought you were a fag. At first I didnât want to train you. I couldnât stand fags, especially the girly ones, but you actually helped me realize all fags arenât bad.â Joshy spoke.
âI thought it was something like that. Joshy, listen up. You changed me for the better. Now Iâm going to return the favor. You love âfruityâ things. All things âfruityâ in fact.â Mike said with directness. Joshy instantly knew that to be true. Man did his client know him! âYou especially love acting femme. You now talk with a lisp and mostly utilize your higher register. â With that Joshyâs gait began to change as they walked towards the sauna doors, becoming wider, more languid, showing off his ass as he followed behind Mikeâs gym pumped form. His lips pursed. He widened his eyes, making them appear more doe like.
Mike held open the large glass door to the sauna. Plumes of thick white steam poured forth.
âThank you, thir.â Joshy lisped, his voice pitching higher. Mike smiled at that, feeling ever more the man.
The spa was exceptional. Atlas Gym sparing no expense on amenities. The walls were covered in aspen, several nooks and benches formed artfully designed areas for members to lounge and talk out plans. However, Mike had different ideas for these spaces. He led Joshy to a particularly secluded section of benches walled off by intricate wicker walls designed to look like birds nests, with woven private rooms and various levels of benches it was perfect for what Mike had in mind. Mike stopped here, removing his towel and letting his long cock splay out over his legs. Joshy opted to keep his towel on, sitting daintly down on the bench and crossing his legs.
âJoshy, you were just telling me how fruity you are.â Mike said smirking, loving how the man before him became completely changed in demeanor.
âOh right.â Joshy chirped. âitâth tho weird, like, everyone thinkth Iâm gay, but Iâm as thstraight ath they come, girl!â Joshy giggled.
âJoshyâŠenough fooling. Youâre gayer than a three dollar bill. Youâre a walking, talking faggot, unable to concentrate when a real manâs package is visible. Youâd do most anything to suck and get fucked by a big dick. Total size queen, you. Why do you think you love the smell of my sweat so much? Youâre a fag slut Joshy, just accept it.â Mike snarled. His cock slowly rising like a flag pole as he uttered his latest command at Joshy.
âBut IâŠnoâŠthe woman out front? IâI told you how I wanted to bang-â Joshy sputtered, holding for dear life to his hetero-sexuality.
âMikey you told me you loved her outfit. How you want to get more into cardio, because youâve gotten too big.â
âIâYouâ youâre doing something to me. I gotta get out of here!â Joshy jumped up, his small towel falling to the floor as he swished and ran with his wrists bent. Mike lept up too, moving like lightning, his long legs carryong him faster to the door. Joshy collided straight into the tall jockâs hairy, sweaty chest. The manâs deep musk invading his nostrils.
The wheels began turning in Joshyâs mind as the stench began permeating through his senses. He gasped, realizing it was the smell rewriting his mind. Mikeâs funk was controlling him. He covered his nose, breathing through his mouth. He tried with all his might to rub the sweat from his face. Mike only chuckled deeply as he lazily grabbed the back of Joshyâs head and shoved it into his other pit.
âSo you figured it out, huh?â Mike said through a smile. âI have you to thank for it, Joshy. It wasnât until we started training together that I realized the power of my musk. My whole life I never hit the gym, always too afraid to take the plunge. But when I began training with youâsomething changed, I started producing, what I can only think to call, pheromonesâŠthey donât work on women, but for whatever reason men go crazy around my musk. They fall right in line. Right under my control.â Mikey smirked at the struggling hunk before him.
"I couldnât believe it at first. I jokingly made commands to friends at work and theyâd oddly fulfill them. Small things at first, buying me lunch on their dime and then bigger things like my asshole bossâ need to suck me off under my desk every day after giving me a 15% raise.â
Joshy continued breathing through his mouth, until Mikeâs large hand covered it. The smaller, thick body builder held out as long as he could, his face turning red untilâŠHe gasped, he sputtered, he lost. Joshyâs hand pulled away from his nose for a deep breath. Mikeâs pungent odor filled his nostrils with a burning funk.
âThere, there Joshy. Just breath. Breathe deep, slut. Breathe deeper than you ever have before.â Joshy moaned and huffed and huffed and moaned into Mikeâs armpit, tears streaming down his face as he succumbed to Mikeâs pheromones.
âMike this is wrong. You canât just change people.â Joshy pleaded through his huffs and licks. âPeople have lives!â
âI know-I promise I know. But thatâs why I need you. Once I transform you Iâm going to use my musk on myself. I donât want to become the power hungry twats I hated. I just need one guy to ground me and that has to be you. Youâre the only one who can reshape me, Joshy. Please.
Joshy looked upon his clientâs handsome, pained face. Seeing honesty in his eyes he nodded. He succumbed to Mikeâs words.
âNow slut. Accept everything I just told you. Tell me what you are.â Joshy took in one final huff, filling his lungs with the potent mix.
"Iâm totally a fag thslut for real menâth dick.â Joshy moaned in between huffing Mikeâs sweaty pits. âIâm, like, totally obsethed with your thmelly pitsth, Mike. Fuck Daddy, can I thuck you off?â Joshy lisped, going weak at the knees as he pawed at Mikeâs fat cock.
âIn a minute Joshy. First tell me honestly about the blonde woman on the elyptical from earlier.â
âShe ith like totally fierce!â Joshy responded in between huffs. âIâm jealous because I need to get on her cardio game. Iâm, like, waaay too big right now.â Joshy sighed.
âNever fret Joshy. Letâs go back to our room and I can tell you some more fun things. We can even strategize next steps for your fitness game and then I need you to read this to me as I huff my own stink. It will ensure I never use this power on anyone ever again, unless it is deemed valid by you.â Mike said assuredly.
God he was so perfect, Joshy thought and nodded like bobble head as Mike led them back to their nested room. His large hand held Joshyâs smaller one. Joshy knew he was stronger than Mike, but he felt so small around the man.
Mike laid Joshy down on a tall wooden bench, designed as a massage table. Mike placed his now swishy trainerâs thick neck and head into a cushioned pillow for support. His face open to the floor below. Massage oil was conveniently located at the benchâs side.
Mike marvelled at the man before him. Just an hour ago Josh drilled Mike like a machine, relentlessly commanding his body through rigourous sets. Now Mike would return the favor to his sweet Joshy.
"Joshy I want you to completely relax for me. Accept what I say easily.â Mike languidly spelled out. The large bodybuilder sighed out contentedly, his eyes closing, his breathing deepening as he took more of Mikeâs musk into his lungs. Mike coated his hands with oil and began to rub the pronated man before him, their sweat acting to further lubricate his strong motions.
âJoshy you are my boyfriend. I am the only man for you. You are my little fag slut, bottom of a trainer. Your cock never gets hard and the pleasure you receive centers from this fat ass.â Mike laid out plainly. beginning to work open Joshyâs soon to be loose hole.
âOh fuck daddy.â Joshy moaned. âYou feel thooo good.â Mike smirked down at the writhing man on his two fingers. He began pistoning in and out of his new boyfriendâs pussy, that girly lisp music to his ears.
"Over the next few months, Joshy, you will completely reshape your fitness program. I like twinks with fat asses and flaccid cocks. Your sole effort will be to shed this bulky muscle, except that of your legs and ass; There I need you to redouble your efforts. Grow big Joshy. Grow a fat, muscle ass for daddy with huge thighs and calves to match. A fat ass with a hyper sensitive pussy.â Mike said, his fingering increasing in speed, a third thick finger added to play Joshyâs boy button.
âFuck. Feelth thoo good! Yeth daddy, fuckâbut wait. My manager. The team. Iâm thupothed to be sthrong.â Joshy moaned out as his pussy continued to open.
âIâll take care of themâŠIn fact I think it is time for you to move on from this company altogether. With you by my side we can start our own gymâ Mike said thoughtfully. Without so much as a word, Mike pulled out his fingers from Joshyâs aching twat and continued to roughly massage his new boyfriendâs body. âIâm going to worship these big muscles for the last time theyâll ever be at this size. After today your diet and fitness goals change Joshy.â
Mike poured over Joshyâs thick thighs, kneading into his muscular ass with relentless precision. His strong hands found there way up his posterior chain and into his large, hairless mid back. Mike worshiped the manâs gorgeous shoulders, and crawled his hands down each thunderous arm. For Joshyâs part all he could do was moan femininely as his boyfriend worked his body over.
Joshyâs eyes were closed during most of the massage, but they flew open at the feeling of something wet and spongey at his lips. There under the open massage head rest stood at attention the most beautiful cock he had ever laid eyes on. Joshy moaned as he accepted it into his faggy, slut mouth. The cock quickly became too much for the new gay man. He choked and sputtered, his face glossed with tears and spit. Just when it felt it was too much Mike spoke.
âJoshy, relax. Fag slutâs like you donât have a gag reflux.â Instantly Joshy accepted the thick cock down his throat. His sputters replaced with girly moans. Mike continued his assault on his boyfriendâs throat even as he reached his hands back to his muscular bubble butt. Joshy began to moan uncontrollably, his body overcome with a sense of fullness as his throat was filled with cock and Mike re-inserted his three fingers into his wet hole. Mike began to piston his cock in and out of his new boyfriendâs throat all while playing his boy button with expert precision. In that moment Joshyâs ass convulsed around Mikeâs three fingers. He saw stars as his soft deflated cock began to uselessly puddle cum from his large balls. At the sight of his manâs orgasm, Mike unleashed a torrent of cum down Joshyâs throat, moaning deeply with each thrust.
The two separated from one another. Mike grabbed the aforementioned letter he had written for Joshy to read to him.
âBabe. I need you to read this to me. It will ensure I never become corrupted by my power. I will forever be devoted to you and our community. Itâs all up to you now.â Mike smiled. He handed Joshy the letter, took a seat on the bench and began to huff his own musk in earnest. His pupils dilated, his jaw went slack, and Joshy began to read in his new girly voice.
⊠Six months later âŠ
Joshy moaned loudly. Bouncing his fat ass up and down like a basketball on Mikeâs thick, muscular body. His manâs huge, 9â rod disappearing up his sloppy hole with masterful skill, his now slender body covered in a sheen of sweat. The muscle he retained glistened on his hairless frame, his pecs bounced in time with each quivering landing he made. Joshyâs dick now permanently soft and leaking, slapping his manâs thick, jizz covered abdomen.
âGod babeâfuckâjust-like-that! Fuck!â Joshy squealed almost losing it as he rode his manâs dick. Mike, feeling himself getting closer, took control. Playtime was over. He grabbed his manâs fat ass and began thrusting upward, lifting his man like a human fleshlight, his huge hairy guns bulging with muscle as he pounded the eager bottomâs hole. Suddenly Mike stopped his thrusts, watching his manâs angelic, blissed out face as he bottomed out. He held him there, moaning uncontrollably in heat.
âWhose ass is this babe?â Mike smirked, keeping a firm grip on Joshy until he answered.
âFuck! Yours!â He moaned and with that Mike again began hammering away.
âThatâs-right-this-ass- is- MINE!â Mike grunted. His cock began to pulse, it wouldnât be long now. With all the strength he now had, he easily rolled the lighter Joshy onto his back, his cock never leaving his manâs hole. Now in missionary he began pounding in earnest. Joshy reached up, tweaking Mikeâs thick nipples as his hole was pummeled. Joshyâs own dick was left untouched, the fullness in his ass was all the pleasure he needed.
Mike hit a fever pitch. His thrusts becoming erratic, Joshyâs hole squelching as Mike pistoned in and out.
âFuck Joshy. Fuck, you make daddy so happy fuck. FUCK! Gonna breed that slut hole babe. Fuckkk babe. TAKE IT!!â Mike screamed and babbled incoherently. Pulse after pulse of cum erupted from Mikeâs dick. His huge body giving Josh its full 250 lbs of weight while Mikeyâs lean 160 lbs took it like a champ!
âDaddy fuck!!! Youâre so fucking big!! Fuck me daddy. Fuck my HOLE fuckkkk meeeeee!!â Joshy squealed, his 3â flaccid cock gushed forth as his hole quivered around Mikeâs shaft until it finally clenched down, not wanting the fireworks to end.
Mike left his still hard cock in Joshyâs thick ass, as the two lovers panted and gently kissed. Mike slipped onto Joshyâs side, cradling the smaller man in his huge arms. They spooned as his cock continued to spontaneously convulse in his manâs hole.
Life was bliss for the gym owning power couple. Pretty soon after Joshyâs initial changes began, Mikeâs own changes took effect. Mike purchased a local failing gym in the gayborhood and became its CEO. He made careful hypnosis files for himself to let Joshy mold him into the perfect Dom Daddy. As he sniffed his own musk and heard his voice, the changes were sealed and day by day he became the monster Daddy he was today. They both promised themselves to love and honor the other. Not only did they come to honor one another, they became the conssumate daddies of the gayborhood.
The couple gave back to the community, fostering change and Mike made good on his word. Joshy was his guiding lightâŠeverywhere except the bedroom and neither would have it any other way.
Joshy became a changed man. He went from a staggering 200 lb 5â9" bodybuilder to an insatiable 160 lb twunk with all his weight centering around his lower half; Though he still kept some definition in his bouncy chest and muscular arms. He strutted around the gym in tight feminine clothing, showing off his thunder thighs and fat pulsing ass. He loved all the attention he received, though he only had eyes for MikeâŠthat is unless Mike ordered him to suck off his co-workers and bodybuilder managers. As devoted as they were, they received endless pleasure in pleasuring others. It was all a part of their new pheromone fueled personas. Sniff, sniff.
Curious about what's happened to Ethan and what's coming next? Check out the master post here!
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The year can pass by so quickly before you can blink,
So be sure to spend some time with your newly formed twink!
Taking a break from all the holiday cheer going on at home, Ethan slipped out of the house early in the morning to head to the local schoolâs racetrack. Running was always an easy way to help clear his head, and he didnât need any fancy equipment to do the activity. And so the young man stood at some of the metal bleachers, carefully stretching out his muscles to warm himself up as he took in a deep breath of the cold, winter air.
It was still quite early in the day, with the sun not yet risen and the track relatively empty. As far as Ethan could see, there was only one other man already running. Ethan didnât know who the stranger was, but his eyes did take in the otherâs shirtless, bulky form as he ran past. The young man swallowed thickly, grateful that there was little light to hide his rather obvious staring. The other man seemed much older than him, giving off the appearance of a big, beefy daddy who obviously put in his time at the gym. Even as the man ran around on the track in circles, clearing his laps over and over, Ethan stared at the bouncing pecs with each step. If he was a step closer, he was certain that he could have a better view of the beads of sweat dripping down those juicy mounds.
He didnât come to the track just to ogle and stare, though, and with his body sufficiently stretched and warmed up, Ethan began with a light jog around the track. He didnât think he would have a pace that could keep up with the older man, but he wasnât looking for a race either. Ethan slipped on his AirPods, only humming along softly and bobbing his head to the music as he ran a few laps.
The pacing was steady and methodical; Ethan had run track and field when he was younger, but the training and drills were ingrained in his mind even if his body hadnât kept up with the sport. He kept his breathing controlled and his pacing steady, running a mile or so as a simple warm-up. Ethan wasnât planning on doing anything particularly difficult, as he was only easing back into the idea of running.
On his fourth lap around, the young man glanced up to see the other man resting at the bleachers, taking hearty swigs from his water bottle. Ethan stumbled a bit in his run, clearly distracted by the way the older manâs throat bobbed and gulped down the crisp, cold water. Grunting as he adjusted his shorts, the younger man turned his eyes away reluctantly when he saw the stranger doing some intense cardio training, going up and down the stairs in the stands. He needed to focus.
Another couple of laps, and Ethan paused to see the older man waving at him from the side of the track. Jogging over, the young man hunched over a bit to catch his breath. Was he found out? Did the other man catch a glimpse of him ogling at that hot, sweaty body of his? But to his surprise, the older man only gestured towards his unopened Gatorade bottle that he had grabbed from the gas station earlier. He stared blankly at the otherâs lips moving, only fishing out his phone to press pause on his music. Carefully tugging out his earbuds, Ethan made sure to stare up at the otherâs eyes instead of those juicy pecs framing that perfectly shirtless torso.
âSorry, didnât hear you. Whatâd you say?â
âI was asking if you minded if I took a drink from your bottle. Iâm all out of water, and I canât get into the school to get some more water,â the older man explained, gesturing towards his empty bottle as an explanation for the strange request.
Nodding in response, Ethan only reached over to grab his Gatorade, popping open the colorful drink to hand it to him instead. âYeah, no worries, man. Just donât drink it all. I need some, too,â he teased as he flashed the other man a wide smile. His eyes naturally drifted down towards the otherâs throat as the man graciously accepted the drink and began taking a few swigs once more. Fuck, the young man thought as he started fantasizing about what the other man could do with his mouth.
âThanks, man. Really appreciate it. I always end up so thirsty on these runs,â the stranger said with a slight chuckle as he handed the bottle back. âDidnât think Iâd run into anyone else out here this early in the morning, so Iâm glad you were here. I mightâve passed out from dehydration,â he joked as he rubbed the back of his sweaty neck.
Ethan waved his hand, gesturing that the act was no big deal. âAh, no worries. I get what you mean. Iâm Ethan, by the way. Didnât think there was anyone else out here this early either. Do you come running out here often?â
The older man smiled warmly as he extended a hand for a handshake. âIâm Felipe. And yeah, itâs been part of my routine. Thatâs why I was surprised to see you out here on the track,â he said with a light laugh. The conversation was light and simple between the two, a simple exchange of pleasantries as they passed the bottle back and forth. It was just two strangers meeting each other and getting to know each other before they inevitably returned to their own workouts.
Once the bottle had been proficiently drained between the two of them, Ethan gestured his head out towards the track. âIâm gonna go finish up these ryan, but itâs nice to meet you again, Felipe,â he said brightly. The sun was starting to crest over the horizon, with soft daylight illuminating the school field. The older man nodded in agreement, gesturing towards his own stair routine. With some idle talk about âgetting back out there in a bit,â Ethan soon moved away to resume his pace around the track, earbuds back in place.
He only had a few more laps left when he caught the strange sight of Felipe hunched over the metal fence. The older manâs face was tucked down, one hand clutching at his stomach as if he were in pain. Ethan didnât recall seeing him finishing up his stair run, but then again, he hadnât been purposefully paying attention anymore. The young man quickly jogged over, concern etched in his brows as he neared Felipe. He took out his earbuds, calling out to the older man to see if he was okay. But all he heard were the soft grunts and moans that slipped out of the otherâs lips.
âFelipe?! Whatâs wrong? Are you okay?â
The shirtless man groaned as his knees buckled, causing him to sink to the ground. His hands still clutched at the fence, his eyes wide with a funny look as he stared up at Ethan accusatorily. âW-What⊠What did you do to me?â he moaned as his body trembled and shuddered. âWâŠWhat was in that drink?â Felipeâs moans turned into soft, light whimpers, his deep voice starting to become more dainty as he gasped from the strange, bodily sensations. The older manâs face seemed to soften and grow younger with each passing second; his facial hair sinking back into his skin to reveal a smooth, moisturized glow.
Ethan gaped as he stared at Felipeâs morphing visage, his eyes only widening when he heard the manâs words shift from something confident into a flouncy, flirty tone accented with a lisp. âI-I didnât put in anything! You saw it! It was unopened. I drank from it too!â he stammered as he tried to defend himself. He didnât know what was happening, but he didnât want the other man to assume that this was his fault.
But Felipe didnât seem to be listening anymore, his eyes rolling back in his head as his body shook and trembled with pleasure. His muscles began to twitch and shift, then slowly sank into his skin. What once boasted of a strong, powerful body full of heaving brawn and a masculine musk, now showed a slim and slender body. Felipeâs body was still accentuated with a shredded look, although the well-defined abs morphed into a smoother, fairer stomach. His juiggling pecs slowly shrank into a smaller heft, with just enough size to be played with, but not enough to stimulate the whimpering man.
Felipe mewled as his body fell forward against the chainlink fence, and Ethan watched as the older man aged down into a younger, slimmer man. He had a beautiful face, adorned with pretty, twinkling eyes that screamed of mischief and plump lips that begged to be wrapped around something thick and long. Felipe struggled to speak, his lispy moans fighting the draining years out of his head. âH-Help⊠Help me, E-EthanâŠ! I⊠I needââ There was a stutter, a slow swallow in his throat, and then a dazed look in his eyes replacing the frantic panic. âI need⊠cock⊠Oh fuck, Iâm so hungryâŠ!âÂ
The twinkified manâs tongue slipped out from his lips as he began wetting those fat lips. Saliva dripped out of his open mouth, drool trickling over his nipples and down the smooth curves of his stomach. âOh fuck⊠I feel so empty⊠I need a big daddy to stuff me!â Felipe whined as he thrust his hips forward. He ground his bulge against the fence, although the two young men watched as the hefty pouch began to shrink in size. Felipe once boasted of a fat, juicy member, something that would form a sizeable and visible imprint on his running shorts. But now, the young man only had a tiny cocklet, something that could only be pleasured by the thought of cocks driving into his greedy holes. Whatever size and bulk he had before moved quickly into his ass cheeks, and Felipe giggled at the warm feeling spreading over his bottom. He purred as he wiggled his hips, glancing over his shoulder to see his juicy bubble butt pushing down the waistband of his shorts. It could barely be contained with how much fat and bounce there was, and yet, Felipe knew that this was his best asset. Whenever he walked, his hips would sway seductively, and flashing a flirty wink would always drive the closest man nuts for him.Â
Slowly standing up from his kneeling position as he glanced over at Ethan, the twink grinned as he licked his lips hungrily again. Felipe picked up the empty Gatorade bottle, popping off the cap to let his tongue slide slowly along the rim of the bottle. âOh fuck⊠I bet you could eat me out real good⊠Iâve got too many thoughts in this head, and I just need you to fuck âem all out of me.â The young man giggled as he mimed the act of being tongue-fucked with the bottle, only letting it fall to the side once he saw Ethan palming at his growing bulge. Carefully climbing over the chainlink fence, Felipe made sure to show off his plump assets with an extra bounce and shake. He turned his hips in a slow sashay, only gazing at the otherâs hungry eyes over his slimmer form.
âCome on then, big boy. Maybe if you catch me, Iâll treat you to something real nice. Letâs say itâs a reward for giving me such a big, juicy bottom!â Felipe hummed, only laughing as he started running away from Ethan on the track. âTry and catch me, if you can! Lemme see how bad you want a piece of this cake!â
Ethan didnât think he was going to get such a long cardio workout in today, but Felipe made sure he worked out long and hard, until both of them were later sprawled out with a fine sheen of sweat over their naked bodies.