hey can u do a tf regarding zoah chrono cross. he's masked and buff and yells
Good Choice. One Zoah helmet coming right up.
It was tantalizing thought. Being turned into the great and powerful Zoah from his favorite video game. That's what he was thinking when he placed that order.
...And he put it on as soon as it arrived, as all my clients do.
He played around with it on, pretending to be his favorite member of the Acacia Dragoons. He did it til' his legs were tired and he could barely stand, panting on his knees.
"Fuck.... that waS GOOD!" He said, the end trailing off into an unnatural yell.
His body was sore, his arms were tired, his legs were aching. He was sweating and panting like he had just finished a major, grueling workout. He felt prideful, though. Pride that a true warrior would feel after spending a long time training their body for future battles.
He flexed his arms, despite their tiredness and despite his lack of energy, he flexed his arms with pride. They were massive, his biceps as big as cannonballs. Staring at his beefy arms, he moaned out:
"FUCK....YES...." Despite the situation calling for a more subdued, quiter tone; he spoke normally and at a normal volume.
His legs still ached, he felt them with his meaty hands, stroking them up and down carefully. They were incredible. Massive trunks of muscle that held up an equally impressive and massive butt. He moaned out again as he gave his crotch a good stroke.
"AMAZING...!" He said, his voice started to get louder, more boisterous and more prideful. The concept of an "indoor voice" was becoming foreign to him.
A small part of his brain was screaming out that this was wrong, that this wasn't who he was. But the rest of his brain was foggy and cloudy thanks to the helmet, the rest of his thoughts consisted of gawking at how strong and beefy he was.
He closed his eyes, feeling the sunlight coming in his room wash over him. His skin rapidly began to tan itself, going from caucasian to a youthful, tan orange, with a few battle scars literally its radiant surface. He gave his massive crotch another few strokes as he basked in the bliss of it all.
He couldn't help but masturbate, he was just so strong...
"FUCK. I'M STRONG." He loudly moaned.
He kept pumping and pumping, the parts of brain the contained memories were being overwritten, replaced and removed. Memories of a boring, modern life were being replaced with memories of growing up and living in the islands of El Nido. Coming to be apart of a group called the "Acacia Dragoons". His strength and stature earning him much renown and respect. He was proud of who he was. He was proud to be called...
Zoah.
He came. His fat cock flung around wildly, spraying thick jizz across the floor and all around the room like an unattended, detached shower head. He growled and groaned as the euphoria of climax washed over his gorgeous form.
The room around him shifted. No longer was he in someone else's bedroom. But in a vast jungle. And he wasn't on his knees anymore, he was walking, traveling through the vast jungle. His body still ached from training, but he pushed through it. He liked training in the jungle. Less chance of people bothering him mid-training.
He stopped when he heard a sound, it was some nearby bushes rustling. He pre-emptively entered a battle stance as an enemy jumped out to attack.
"HEH." He snickered. "WEAKLING."
He rushed forward and launched it into the air with an powerful uppercut, jumping up with it he slammed it back down to the ground hard as if the enemy were a mere volleyball.
THAT, was his signature Toss&Spike attack.
He roared, as he entered a prideful victory stance. The enemy was defeated.
His stomach grumbled, he always got hungry after training. He rubbed his abs and wondered.
"I WONDER WHAT'S FOR DINNER." He thought of a nice platter of meat and smiled beneath his helmet as he simply said: "YUMMY." He patted his stomach again as continued his trek back home...
