#twinkification

[misctf]

Cocky straight guy becomes a twink trophy boyfriend

He spots her across the living room before anyone else really registers she’s arrived. New face, effortless confidence—his kind of challenge. He takes a second, smooths his shirt, then crosses the room like he already knows how this ends.

“Hey,” he says, easy smile, leaning just enough to feel close without crowding. “You look like you’re deciding whether this party’s worth staying at.”

She glances at him, amused but unreadable.

“I was,” she says. “Still am.”

He chuckles, unfazed. “Give me five minutes. I’ll make it worth it.”

She tilts her head. “You always open like that?”

“Only when I’m right.”

“Confident.”

“Usually rewarded for it.”

“Usually,” she echoes.

He grins, holding eye contact. “Stick around. You’ll see.”

She doesn’t 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...

“Not my type.”

That actually lands. Jake blinks, thrown off, but only for a second. His smile returns quick, “Alright, maybe I started off wrong. Name’s Jake.”

“Lena.”

“So what is your type?”

Her eyes travel over him, slower this time. “Bulky guys aren’t really my thing.”

Jake scoffs, rolling his shoulders. “How can you not be into muscles?”

He flexes his arm, showing off muscle that no woman could resist. Only the peak isn’t 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, “I said what I said.”

He smirks, leaning closer. “I’m more than just muscle, you know.”

“Mhmm... Doubt that.”

"Yeah?” 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.

“I'm good." She shrugs, "All that body hair isn't winning you any prizes with me."

Jake huffs a laugh. “What? C’mon! That’s what makes me a real man.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah,” 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.

“That's... that doesn't make sense.” 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. “Woah that's not...” 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.

“No, stay,” Her voice lifts. “I’m enjoying our little conversation.” 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.

“Wh-what?”

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.

“No way...” 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.

“You 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, “I mean... yeah, I can be vulnerable,” he says, but it comes out softer, less certain. His shoulders pull in as he talks, frame narrowing further, “It’s just, like... I don’t usually say this stuff out loud, I just kinda… push it down, you know? Be a man about it...” He freezes, “Why am I saying this?” His voice jumps... higher. Whinier.

Lena smiles, "It's okay to open up, Jake."

Jake’s hand flies to his throat. “Okay, no... like why does my voice sound like this? This's not... like, not my voice.” It spikes again, edging toward a whine.

"Jake?" He recognizes that voice, "Dude, what the fuck?"

“Brett!” Jake blurts, cringing at the pitch of his voice, but relief floods in anyway. “Oh my god... thank god you noticed! Something’s like… totally wrong!”

Brett steps in close, brow furrowed. “What happened to you, man?”

“I don’t know!” Jake says quickly, voice light and uneven. “She just, like... started saying stuff and now I’m...”

A sharp snap. Brett goes still. His expression melts, eyes half-lidded, mouth slack. Drool dripping from the corner of his mouth.

Jake stares, “What? Brett?”

He grabs Brett’s arm instinctively and pauses. His fingers press into Brett’s bicep, lingering a second too long. There’s a flicker of something... appreciation?

Jake jerks his hand back and spins towards Lena, “Like, what did you do to him?!”

Lena barely glances at Brett. “Don’t worry about him,” she says smoothly. “Focus on something more fun. Like gossip… or cute guys.”

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 he’s losing, new ones slip in—lighter, easier, strangely compelling. He finds himself wondering who’s 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 Brett’s arms, the way his shirt fits across his chest, the way his slacked jaw and dim eyes look.

“Oh wow.” Jake’s 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.

“Now you’re more my type,” Lena looks over Jake carefully, satisfied. “But I doubt I’m yours.”

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.

“Yeah, I mean… like… no offense, but… yeah.” He winces slightly at how natural that felt.

Lena smiles. “So tell me... what is your type?”

Jake doesn’t hesitate this time. He glances back at Brett, eyes lingering, a small, giddy smile slipping through. “I mean… Brett,” he says, almost giggling. “Obviously.”

"He's kinda cute."

“Kinda? 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.

“Hey,” he says quietly, voice lower than Jake remembers. “You look… different.”

Jake giggles, “Different good, right?”

Brett’s hand comes up, hesitating just a second before brushing along Jake’s waist. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Really good.”

Jake inhales sharply, but he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he leans, eyes flicking up through his lashes.

“Wow, okay…” he says, half-giggling. “You’re, like, being really forward right now.”

Brett smirks faintly, closing the space between them. “You don’t seem to mind.”

Jake bites his lip, heat rushing to his face. “I mean… I don't.”

“My room’s just upstairs,” Brett murmurs, leaning in slightly. “You wanna check it out?”

Jake lets out a soft, breathy laugh, glancing back at Lena for half a second before looking up at Brett again. “I mean… yeah,” he says, voice light and a little giddy, fingers brushing Brett’s arm. “Lead the way.”

Lena watches for a beat, satisfied, “Have fun, you two!”

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

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.

[occamstfs]

Model's New Mustache

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 David’s previous relationships. Sure, he knows he’s beautiful. Angelic many of his one night stands and observers from afar frequently point out. He’s 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 fling’s 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 man’s 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 David’s point of view at all. When a hand drifts to adjust a bulge clearly visible in his pants it’s clear there’s only one thing on his mind. And David is certainly not going to let that happen tonight. 

“You’re not even listening.”

“Shiiiit, I mean c’mon babe. Be serious. You couldn’t even grow facial hair if you tried. I just dunno why you’re being such a lil bitch about it.”

Bony arms hugging his long legs, draped with pants he purloined from a shoot, David feels a fire burning within him. He’s not even been allowed to try. His agency would can him on the spot. Staring at the small mustache decorating Mattias’ upper lip he reaches to feel his own smooth, soft face. He’s going to try.

“I don’t care what you think, I’m going to stop waxing. Keep complaining, see what else I might decide to try. Asshole.”

Eyes flitting to his passenger, Mattias reaches over to feel David’s inner thigh. “So, uhhh, that means we’re not-”

“Fuck off you horny fucking- Spend half an hour thinking about anything but my ass and maybe, maybe I won’t lose your number.”

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 David’ll 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 it’s going to be different. As soon as the tail lights of Mattias’ shit box are out of sight, David begins his research. 

It’s not long at all before David comes across a targeted ad. Formatted like any other, on the left there’s a twink that the model swears he’s seen before, on the right is a perpetually bear-faced man. Face overgrown with itchy stubble and capstoned by a burly mustache that makes David’s mouth water.

Averse to cumming in his pants from a spam-ad, David does his best to stop imagining the twink’s 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 it’s not even worth trimming. David bites his lip to stop from imagining his bulky figure out of frame.

Trailing past both the familiar ditzy twink’s lolling tongue and the alluring garden of chest fur on his alleged new self, David reads the caption. ‘How I became a man with ONE simple trick’

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 twink’s has been dry.

Refusing to acknowledge the reality that this ad probably just stole an image from this mystery model’s account, David prepares to cold-DM this man he doesn’t really know. Desperate to feel the way he has always craved, desperate to change, he types his message:

‘Hey Hi! Peyton right? Funny thing :P I just found an ad of u and this like,,, lumberjackey otter? U know anything about this?’

Within the minute the man replies:

‘lmaooo ya thas me dude so u wanna fucc or what?’

Shocked at the bizarre response, there are a few false starts before David lands on a message. While he certainly wouldn’t 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.

‘Ahhhh unfortunately I was more just wondering about the trick the ad mentioned. Like,, is that real? Surely thats like a joke huh?’

Across town and annoyed at the boner that won’t 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 David’s string of horny tops, he’s 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 it’s not the only change to erupt from David’s ascension.

‘its easy brother just click the link and type the guys name in’

‘The guy?’

‘the dude who made u feel like shit lil bro sumone u want to take down a peg’

Obeying the strange man’s 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 man’s words, David pictures the most recent jerk to wrong him.’

Imagining Mattias’ 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 man’s face and put it on his own. David quickly types his name into the box. And nothing happens.

MATTIAS

Worried he’s 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:

‘What now?’ … ‘Hello, you there? I typed his name in’ … ‘K. Well thanks for nothing’

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 he’ll be over it. It’ll be just another day. He’ll go to a shoot, pose, go home, do his regimen, and then go to bed again. 

  Sinking into his mattress, David stares at his ceiling. Dimly lit by the computer monitor left on he swears he can see Mattias’ 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 mind’s eye, David doesn’t 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 doesn’t notice the rougher hands holding up his phone or the ruddier complexion covering his face. 

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, David’s 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 can’t 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 it’s his manager on his ass for being late to a shoot; little does he know he’s 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 he’s 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. 

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 trainer’s 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. 

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. 

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. 

‘What did you fucking do to me you bitch.’

Absolutely no idea what that’s 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. “You ready to go or what princess?” Butterflies in his stomach quiver at the words, he’s not a princess anymore. And he’s 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 David’s 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. 

Standing nearby for obvious reason, David’s 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 man’s back for lusty greed alone, he bites his lip as he feels the beginnings of his trainee’s ass hair creeping up towards his shoulders. Unlike the still perma-poised David, the trainer doesn’t quite quiet a whimper from feeling up his sweaty back. “Mhhmm~”

Shocked to hear as much from someone David would’ve sworn was straight, David turns in surprise to stare at his visibly horny trainer. Blush paints the broish man’s cheeks and the twitching package he can’t hide makes it clear he’s certainly not red in the face from his own scant workout.

Stepping away David watches as his needy hands fall away. Gulping with need, there’s surely a part of the hitherto professional trainer that knows there is something strange alluring him to David, but when he sees the growing man’s bicep twitch even larger his train of thought has no recourse but to pull out all the stops to keep him close.

David knows he’s hot stuff, and this wouldn’t be the first time he’s gotten googoo eyes from a ‘straight man,’ but something’s 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 what’s left of his model’s 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. He’s 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 trainer’s needy eyes follow David’s hand his newfound cockiness only grows.

He can almost feel the thick hair coating his chest thicken as his adorer’s mouth falls open in need. He does feel the cock that he’s only recently begun to fondle grows even more, only a semi thus far if David didn’t know any better he’d swear it was already larger than the most turgid erection he’s ever had. 

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 he’s always admired he doesn’t feel nearly the same heat that the trainer evidently has for him. Feeling his phone still blowing up in his back pocket he’s reminded he’s got a bitch- er, he’s still got Mattias to deal with.

To point he challenges his trainer. 

“What’s the problem with you?”

Sheepishly the trainer averts his eyes from the center of Dave’s chest where the hair is so thick that one truly can only guess that there’s skin beneath. Halfheartedly pointing to the next machine he viscerally feels any authority he once had over Dave slip away.

“Just let me go.”

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 he’s 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 doesn’t 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 he’s going to get chewed out for something out of his control, by the time Dave pulls out his phone and begins walking towards Mattias’ he doesn’t even remember having Dave as a client. It’s 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 he’d 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.

“I no u did this u little bitch when i see u its over

“Look idk what I did but u need to stop it. Please I cant show up to my boys lookin like this”

“Fine, shit! Maybe I deserved it but you gotta stop. I don’t want to be some hairless twink.”

“Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease.”

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 man’s house hits harder as his thighs bulk up to support his widening chest and the thickening cock between them. 

The mustache on his face thickens and hangs lower to cover the entirety of his upper lip. The dense thicket on his pecs decides it’s 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. 

Gym shorts he didn’t 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 can’t help but continue to read Mattias’ 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 he’s going to make it to Mattias’ without being criminally indecent. Seeing his thick cockhead near the lip of his shorts he finds Mattias’ most recent messages have switched their tune.

“I’ll fucking do anything babe please, anything but my cock.”

“I wish I had a cock like yours…

“God you’re so hot, I just wish I could be more like you…”

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 wouldn’t. The twink’s 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. 

Deigning to reply at last, Dave just sends two words. ‘Facetime me’

Within a second Dave’s phone is ringing for Mattias. Seeing his old profile picture Dave can’t recognize the middling man before him. Nothing like the twink he knows and loves to fuck, still he lets the mystery man’s face stay on his phone for a moment longer to leave Mattias waiting. Offering the perfect juxtaposition between Mattias’ new and old self.

“Hey daddyyyy~ Are you coming over or what?”

Even the most powerful supernatural effect couldn’t 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. “Are you okay baby?”

His airy whine drives Dave into one final wave of changes as he grunts out a “Be right over. You’d better be ready.” Shorts almost shearing off his meaty thighs as he begins sprinting towards his lay’s 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. 

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 Mattias’ 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 twink’s 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 Mattias’ 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 Mattias’ ear, he feels his mustache scratch the twink’s regimented cheek. “Get on your stomach and let’s get this started.” Blushing like he’d never have done before, what is Mattias to do but obey the sexiest man he’s ever been with.

[oddityfactory]

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So give your boyfriend some Twink Wash today; he'll love it.

[gaytamorfosi]

Il letto maledetto - The cursed bed

🇮🇹 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 più assurde — sempre che tornassero.

Gli amici di Michael lo avevano sfidato a passarci la notte e lui, per spavalderia, aveva accettato. Dopo aver gironzolato per una ventina di minuti, si imbatté in una stanza decisamente diversa dalle altre: non c'era un filo di polvere né un oggetto fuori posto, e le lenzuola del letto profumavano persino di bucato. Senza pensarci troppo, Michael decise che quello era il posto perfetto per dormire, si spogliò e si sdraiò.

Ma quel letto era maledetto e proiettò 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 iniziò 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 riaprì gli occhi, tornò alla realtà, ma realizzò subito che i suoi amici non gli avrebbero mai creduto. Ormai aveva l'aspetto di un perfetto sconosciuto.

🇬🇧 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 — 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.

[raxero-malemetamorph]

Twink Twix

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 grit—Hunter, 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 couldn’t 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 Hunter’s 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 Trent’s massive, boulder-like shoulders began to soften. The heavy, corded muscles—once hard as granite—seemed 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 frames—the sheer effort of carrying all that "alpha" mass—was simply evaporating. Hunter felt his ribcage narrow, his thick, power-lifter’s 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 other’s touch.

In a matter of seconds, the thirty-year-old bodybuilders had vanished. In their place stood two radiant eighteen-year-old boys—the 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 gone—it 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 Trent’s 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 moment’s hesitation, his larger, doll-like eyes searching Hunter’s 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.

[reformhim]

Some Breakups Break You

He should’ve known better than to break up with Owen like that.

Owen had worshipped him—Tyler, 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 “clingy,” and move on.

But Owen had whispered something strange that night as he left. Something Tyler barely remembered. Something like:

“Every time you hook up, you’ll lose a little more of what makes you… you.”

Tyler didn’t think much of it. Until hookup number one.

---

It was a quick grind with a guy from the app—some smooth, lean cutie who begged for Tyler to top him hard. But afterward, Tyler noticed the mirror. His beard—it 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 “Good boy” and “You’re cuter when you’re quiet.”

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.

“WTF did you do to me.”

Owen replied with a single sentence.

“You made fun of twinks like they were beneath you. So now you’re becoming one.”

Tyler cursed. He stormed to the mirror and shouted at himself—his once-deep baritone now a shaky midtone.

---

By hookup number five, Tyler couldn’t grow stubble. Not a single hair on his body remained below the neck. His voice cracked constantly. His cock? Smaller than any guy he’d ever dated.

At the club, a stranger grabbed his ass.

“Damn, you’re cute. What’s your name, boy?”

Tyler turned red.

He tried to bark back, to reclaim himself.

But all that came out was:

“…Ty.”

Soft. Breathless.

He let the man buy him a drink.

---

That night, Tyler sat on his bed, legs crossed tightly, scrolling through Owen’s 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 whimpered—pathetically.

In the distance, his phone pinged with another message from Owen:

“Go ahead. Hook up again. Just a few more to go… and you’ll be perfect.”

Tyler clutched his pillow, grinding his thighs together, biting his lip.

He hated this.

---

Tyler hadn’t left the house in days.

He couldn’t face the world like this—not 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 at—when 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. He’d 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:

“Owen… I can’t stop it. I’ve tried. I’ve shaved, waxed, even chanted dumb shit in the mirror hoping to grow my beard back. I can’t even jack off anymore without crying.

I need you.

Please.”

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:

“Say it.”

Tyler’s thumbs trembled. He swallowed hard.

“Take me back, sir.”

A second later:

“Be waiting at the door. Naked.”

---

He obeyed. Shame in every step. He stood by the door, trembling, eyes wide, arms at his sides like a nervous pet. His cock—what was left of it—was 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.

“You look pathetic,” Owen said, finally.

Tyler nodded.

“You used to be the kind of man who’d spit on a guy like this.”

Tyler swallowed.

“…I know, Sir.”

Owen leaned in, close to his ear.

“And now? What are you?”

Tyler whimpered.

“…Your boy.”

“Louder.”

“I’m your boy!”

Owen grabbed Tyler’s ass, rough, fingers digging in deep.

“I’ll fuck you until you forget your name, Ty. Not that you need one anymore. You’re just mine.”

Tyler moaned. Not in pain. Not in protest. But because this was his life now, he'd never feel like a real man again.

[heytopman]

Trainer from the Trained Pt. 2

“I get it Joshy. You earned this sweat after training me so hard. Now cover up, you look like a whore.” Mike said condescendingly, throwing a noticeably smaller towel in Joshy’s 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.

“Don’t you think this towel is a little fruity?" Joshy asked.

“Fruity? What a funny word. Joshy. Tell me honestly. What did you think of me before this afternoon?” Mike asked.

“I thought you were a fag. At first I didn’t want to train you. I couldn’t stand fags, especially the girly ones, but you actually helped me realize all fags aren’t bad.” Joshy spoke.

“I thought it was something like that. Joshy, listen up. You changed me for the better. Now I’m going to return the favor. You love ‘fruity’ things. All things ‘fruity’ in fact.” Mike said with directness. Joshy instantly knew that to be true. Man did his client know him! “You especially love acting femme. You now talk with a lisp and mostly utilize your higher register. ” With that Joshy’s gait began to change as they walked towards the sauna doors, becoming wider, more languid, showing off his ass as he followed behind Mike’s 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.

“Thank you, thir.” 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.

“Joshy, you were just telling me how fruity you are.” Mike said smirking, loving how the man before him became completely changed in demeanor.

“Oh right.” Joshy chirped. “it’th tho weird, like, everyone thinkth I’m gay, but I’m as thstraight ath they come, girl!” Joshy giggled.

“Joshy…enough fooling. You’re gayer than a three dollar bill. You’re a walking, talking faggot, unable to concentrate when a real man’s package is visible. You’d 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? You’re a fag slut Joshy, just accept it.” Mike snarled. His cock slowly rising like a flag pole as he uttered his latest command at Joshy.

“But I…no…the woman out front? I—I told you how I wanted to bang-“ Joshy sputtered, holding for dear life to his hetero-sexuality.

“Mikey you told me you loved her outfit. How you want to get more into cardio, because you’ve gotten too big.”

“I—You— you’re doing something to me. I gotta get out of here!” 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 jock’s hairy, sweaty chest. The man’s deep musk invading his nostrils.

The wheels began turning in Joshy’s mind as the stench began permeating through his senses. He gasped, realizing it was the smell rewriting his mind. Mike’s 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 Joshy’s head and shoved it into his other pit.

“So you figured it out, huh?” Mike said through a smile. “I have you to thank for it, Joshy. It wasn’t 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 you—something changed, I started producing, what I can only think to call, pheromones…they don’t work on women, but for whatever reason men go crazy around my musk. They fall right in line. Right under my control.” Mikey smirked at the struggling hunk before him.

"I couldn’t believe it at first. I jokingly made commands to friends at work and they’d oddly fulfill them. Small things at first, buying me lunch on their dime and then bigger things like my asshole boss’ need to suck me off under my desk every day after giving me a 15% raise.”

Joshy continued breathing through his mouth, until Mike’s large hand covered it. The smaller, thick body builder held out as long as he could, his face turning red until…He gasped, he sputtered, he lost. Joshy’s hand pulled away from his nose for a deep breath. Mike’s pungent odor filled his nostrils with a burning funk.

“There, there Joshy. Just breath. Breathe deep, slut. Breathe deeper than you ever have before.” Joshy moaned and huffed and huffed and moaned into Mike’s armpit, tears streaming down his face as he succumbed to Mike’s pheromones.

“Mike this is wrong. You can’t just change people.” Joshy pleaded through his huffs and licks. “People have lives!”

“I know-I promise I know. But that’s why I need you. Once I transform you I’m going to use my musk on myself. I don’t want to become the power hungry twats I hated. I just need one guy to ground me and that has to be you. You’re the only one who can reshape me, Joshy. Please.

Joshy looked upon his client’s handsome, pained face. Seeing honesty in his eyes he nodded. He succumbed to Mike’s words.

“Now slut. Accept everything I just told you. Tell me what you are.” Joshy took in one final huff, filling his lungs with the potent mix.

"I’m totally a fag thslut for real men’th dick.” Joshy moaned in between huffing Mike’s sweaty pits. “I’m, like, totally obsethed with your thmelly pitsth, Mike. Fuck Daddy, can I thuck you off?” Joshy lisped, going weak at the knees as he pawed at Mike’s fat cock.

“In a minute Joshy. First tell me honestly about the blonde woman on the elyptical from earlier.”

“She ith like totally fierce!” Joshy responded in between huffs. “I’m jealous because I need to get on her cardio game. I’m, like, waaay too big right now.” Joshy sighed.

“Never fret Joshy. Let’s 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.” 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 Joshy’s 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 trainer’s thick neck and head into a cushioned pillow for support. His face open to the floor below. Massage oil was conveniently located at the bench’s 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.” Mike languidly spelled out. The large bodybuilder sighed out contentedly, his eyes closing, his breathing deepening as he took more of Mike’s 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.

“Joshy 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.” Mike laid out plainly. beginning to work open Joshy’s soon to be loose hole.

“Oh fuck daddy.” Joshy moaned. “You feel thooo good.” Mike smirked down at the writhing man on his two fingers. He began pistoning in and out of his new boyfriend’s 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.” Mike said, his fingering increasing in speed, a third thick finger added to play Joshy’s boy button.

“Fuck. Feelth thoo good! Yeth daddy, fuck—but wait. My manager. The team. I’m thupothed to be sthrong.” Joshy moaned out as his pussy continued to open.

“I’ll take care of them…In 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 gym” Mike said thoughtfully. Without so much as a word, Mike pulled out his fingers from Joshy’s aching twat and continued to roughly massage his new boyfriend’s body. “I’m going to worship these big muscles for the last time they’ll ever be at this size. After today your diet and fitness goals change Joshy.”

Mike poured over Joshy’s 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 man’s gorgeous shoulders, and crawled his hands down each thunderous arm. For Joshy’s part all he could do was moan femininely as his boyfriend worked his body over.

Joshy’s 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.

“Joshy, relax. Fag slut’s like you don’t have a gag reflux.” Instantly Joshy accepted the thick cock down his throat. His sputters replaced with girly moans. Mike continued his assault on his boyfriend’s 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 boyfriend’s throat all while playing his boy button with expert precision. In that moment Joshy’s ass convulsed around Mike’s three fingers. He saw stars as his soft deflated cock began to uselessly puddle cum from his large balls. At the sight of his man’s orgasm, Mike unleashed a torrent of cum down Joshy’s 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.

“Babe. 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. It’s all up to you now.” 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 …

Joshy moaned loudly. Bouncing his fat ass up and down like a basketball on Mike’s thick, muscular body. His man’s huge, 9” 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. Joshy’s dick now permanently soft and leaking, slapping his man’s thick, jizz covered abdomen.

“God babe—fuck—just-like-that! Fuck!” Joshy squealed almost losing it as he rode his man’s dick. Mike, feeling himself getting closer, took control. Playtime was over. He grabbed his man’s 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 bottom’s hole. Suddenly Mike stopped his thrusts, watching his man’s angelic, blissed out face as he bottomed out. He held him there, moaning uncontrollably in heat.

“Whose ass is this babe?” Mike smirked, keeping a firm grip on Joshy until he answered.

“Fuck! Yours!” He moaned and with that Mike again began hammering away.

“That’s-right-this-ass- is- MINE!” Mike grunted. His cock began to pulse, it wouldn’t be long now. With all the strength he now had, he easily rolled the lighter Joshy onto his back, his cock never leaving his man’s hole. Now in missionary he began pounding in earnest. Joshy reached up, tweaking Mike’s thick nipples as his hole was pummeled. Joshy’s 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, Joshy’s hole squelching as Mike pistoned in and out.

“Fuck Joshy. Fuck, you make daddy so happy fuck. FUCK! Gonna breed that slut hole babe. Fuckkk babe. TAKE IT!!” Mike screamed and babbled incoherently. Pulse after pulse of cum erupted from Mike’s dick. His huge body giving Josh its full 250 lbs of weight while Mikey’s lean 160 lbs took it like a champ!

“Daddy fuck!!! You’re so fucking big!! Fuck me daddy. Fuck my HOLE fuckkkk meeeeee!!” Joshy squealed, his 3” flaccid cock gushed forth as his hole quivered around Mike’s shaft until it finally clenched down, not wanting the fireworks to end.

Mike left his still hard cock in Joshy’s thick ass, as the two lovers panted and gently kissed. Mike slipped onto Joshy’s side, cradling the smaller man in his huge arms. They spooned as his cock continued to spontaneously convulse in his man’s hole.

Life was bliss for the gym owning power couple. Pretty soon after Joshy’s initial changes began, Mike’s 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 light…everywhere except the bedroom and neither would have it any other way.

Joshy became a changed man. He went from a staggering 200 lb 5’9" 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 Mike…that 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.

[next-gen-men]

December 22nd - Twinkification - Felipe

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 school’s racetrack. Running was always an easy way to help clear his head, and he didn’t 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 didn’t know who the stranger was, but his eyes did take in the other’s 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 didn’t 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 didn’t think he would have a pace that could keep up with the older man, but he wasn’t 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 hadn’t 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 wasn’t 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 man’s 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 other’s 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 other’s eyes instead of those juicy pecs framing that perfectly shirtless torso.

“Sorry, didn’t hear you. What’d you say?”

“I was asking if you minded if I took a drink from your bottle. I’m all out of water, and I can’t get into the school to get some more water,” 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. “Yeah, no worries, man. Just don’t drink it all. I need some, too,” he teased as he flashed the other man a wide smile. His eyes naturally drifted down towards the other’s 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.

“Thanks, man. Really appreciate it. I always end up so thirsty on these runs,” the stranger said with a slight chuckle as he handed the bottle back. “Didn’t think I’d run into anyone else out here this early in the morning, so I’m glad you were here. I might’ve passed out from dehydration,” he joked as he rubbed the back of his sweaty neck.

Ethan waved his hand, gesturing that the act was no big deal. “Ah, no worries. I get what you mean. I’m Ethan, by the way. Didn’t think there was anyone else out here this early either. Do you come running out here often?”

The older man smiled warmly as he extended a hand for a handshake. “I’m Felipe. And yeah, it’s been part of my routine. That’s why I was surprised to see you out here on the track,” 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. “I’m gonna go finish up these ryan, but it’s nice to meet you again, Felipe,” 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 ‘getting back out there in a bit,’ 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 man’s face was tucked down, one hand clutching at his stomach as if he were in pain. Ethan didn’t recall seeing him finishing up his stair run, but then again, he hadn’t 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 other’s lips.

“Felipe?! What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

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. “W-What… What did you do to me?” he moaned as his body trembled and shuddered. “W…What was in that drink?” Felipe’s moans turned into soft, light whimpers, his deep voice starting to become more dainty as he gasped from the strange, bodily sensations. The older man’s 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 Felipe’s morphing visage, his eyes only widening when he heard the man’s words shift from something confident into a flouncy, flirty tone accented with a lisp. “I-I didn’t put in anything! You saw it! It was unopened. I drank from it too!” he stammered as he tried to defend himself. He didn’t know what was happening, but he didn’t want the other man to assume that this was his fault.

But Felipe didn’t 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. Felipe’s 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. “H-Help… Help me, E-Ethan…! I… I need—” There was a stutter, a slow swallow in his throat, and then a dazed look in his eyes replacing the frantic panic. “I need… cock… Oh fuck, I’m so hungry…!” 

The twinkified man’s 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. “Oh fuck… I feel so empty… I need a big daddy to stuff me!” 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. 

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. “Oh fuck… I bet you could eat me out real good… I’ve got too many thoughts in this head, and I just need you to fuck ‘em all out of me.” 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 other’s hungry eyes over his slimmer form.

“Come on then, big boy. Maybe if you catch me, I’ll treat you to something real nice. Let’s say it’s a reward for giving me such a big, juicy bottom!” Felipe hummed, only laughing as he started running away from Ethan on the track. “Try and catch me, if you can! Lemme see how bad you want a piece of this cake!”

Ethan didn’t 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.