Jonah had never wanted to step foot in the locker room. He was able to get out of P.E. class by assisting the track and cross country teams all four years of college. Unfortunately for him, he needed to get the head of the athletic department at the college, the wrestling coach, to sign off on the paperwork he needed. He walked inside after his classes were done for the day one day, and surprisingly found no one inside. âHello? Coach Barnes? I emailed you about signing some paperwork. Hello?â Jonah walked around the locker room, wondering just where the fuck Coach could be, and the rest of the athletes too.
Jonah soon stumbled upon the showers in the locker room. He had never pictured them looking like this, though. The showers were partitioned, albeit with some pretty low partitions, and there was a name of a jock just above each shower head. Jonah quickly realized that the names were all of the men on the wrestling team. Of course, he wouldnât know this, but each shower was made specifically for each wrestlerâs special needs. Another reason why Jonah was a bit shocked by the showers was because of how high-tech they seemed to be.
Everything was chrome-plated, and there were a lot more knobs and even levers than he had seen in most showers before. âIs this were all the schoolâs fuckinâ money is going?â Jonah asked himself out loud. He was a science major, and the schoolâs labs were woefully underequipped, with little to no high-tech equipment to speak of. As Jonah continued to walk down the row of showers, hoping the coachâs office was somewhere nearby, he slipped on a puddle of water. He was luckily able not to get the papers wet, but he did end up inside of one of the showers because of his fall.
As he got up, he heard and saw a sliding door to the shower close. Even though the partitions were low, they were still high enough that escape would be quite difficult, if not impossible, especially for someone as weak and small as Jonah was. He soon noticed that there was no handle on the door or anyway to get it to open again. He began looking at the insane number of knobs and levers, hoping to find one that would get him out of there. He couldnât find one, so he was stuck inside this high-tech shower until someone came along to rescue him!
Jonah was a bit shocked when a Siri-like voice seemed to come out of the showerhead. âPlease remove your clothes.â
âFuck no! I wanna fuckinâ get out of here! Let me out!â
âPlease remove your clothes. If you do not remove your clothes, they will be forcefully removed.â
âI am not taking my fuckinâ clothes off. Let me fuckinâ out of here!â The showerhead soon opened up and an incredibly strong vacuum was turned on. Jonah remained standing up, but all of his clothes were vacuumed right off of him, even his underwear. It was a surprisingly painless experience, but Jonah wasnât really concerned about that right now. âFuck!â he screamed, dropping the papers to instinctively cover his dick, even though no one was around or even in the locker room still.
âPre-wash cycle initiated. Wrestler will be covered in water and lathered up in a nice and soothing scent. The process will begin momentarily.â
âWhat the actual fuck?â Jonah said to himself. It sounded like he was going to be washed like he was just some clothes! Thankfully, it wasnât as bad as it sounded, as water came out of the showerhead for the first time since he had fallen into the shower. The stream of water was quite intense, the most high-pressure stream Jonah had ever experienced in a shower. Even that didnât excite him, as he still clawed at the door and tried to find a way out of the hellish shower. His slippery wet body was not doing him any favors.
âPre-wash cycle complete. Body wash cycle will begin momentarily.â
âHuh, I wonder what the scent was?â Jonah though, before the body wash was pretty much unceremoniously dumped on him. It smelled like Axe body spray and the other douchey colognes the college athletes and even frat bros wore around campus. Jonah, like most people, hated the smell, but there was little he could do about it. At least he had the ability to not lather himself up! Unfortunately, body scrubbers came out of the wall and scrubbed Jonahâs body from head to toe, making sure every inch of him was covered in the stinky-smelling body wash, even his dick.
Then the showerhead blasted the stream of water again, and the body wash went down the drain. As Jonah looked down, hoping it was all gone, he realized that his body had changed dramatically, apparently in the last couple of minutes! âWhat. The. Fuck?â he said, as he felt up his newly muscular body. It was now a bit stocky, a body type that many wrestlers had. He had biceps with peaks now and tree trunks for legs, as well as square pecs that still jutted out from his body and abs. He looked pretty much like a wrestler now, and it totally freaked him the fuck out!
âBody wash cycle complete. Shampoo cycle will begin momentarily.â
âAt least itâs an actual shower routine,â Jonah thought to himself, although he knew that this would probably have some weird side effects to it as well. However, there was surprisingly nothing sexual or even different about this shampoo cycle, as the shower was calling it. Jonah did once again not rub the shampoo around and tried to escape once more, but the hair scrubbers were doing that job for him, and the walls were much too wet now for anyone to have a chance at escaping.
The shampoo cycle continued, and despite the muscle growth, it seemed to be a normal rest of the shower. However, he was definitely not expecting what the voice was going to say next. âShampoo cycle complete. Mandatory cum deposit is required.â
âWait, what?â Jonah said, as part of the floor opened up and what looked to be a fleshlight came out and placed itself directly on Jonahâs dick being turning on and jerking him off. âFUCK! FUCK! HELP! Anyone, get me the fuck out of here! Please, anyone, help!â Jonah then heard someone chuckling, and was relieved that someone was finally going to come and save him. However, it was Coach Barnes, and he had a smirk on his face as he looked on at Jonah in the shower.
âI was wondering why my phone told me one of my wrestlers was in the shower, even though theyâre all at a competition right now.â
âOh thank god, Coach, thanks for being here! This shower is fuckinâ insane, man! It caused my muscles to grow and Iâm fuckinâ trapped inside. Please let me out, Coach!â
Coach Barnes chuckled again before responding to the trapped jock. âIâm not gonna let you out, Jonah. You see, Iâm always on the lookout for more jocks to join the team. Since my methods are pretty, unique letâs say, not that many actual wrestlers want to join the team. And the side effects of this process arenât really conducive to keeping the same team year after year. So, Iâm actually glad you landed into the shower, however you managed that. You saved me from having to scout another guy next year.â
âIâm, uh, gonna, uh, report, uh, you, to, uh, the, uh, authorities,â Jonah noted, moaning between every word as the machine continued to milk him, waiting for Jonah to release his mandatory cum deposit.
âYeah, thatâs not gonna happen. And the dumbing down process from the shampoo will be happening shortly. Youâve literally been brainwashed into being dumb! Isnât that cute? I bought this special shampoo a few years ago because the wrestling team was really getting out of hand, and I could barely hold down a coach for a couple weeks, let alone an entire season. But this special dumbing-down shampoo will make sure the wrestlers donât graduate. Unfortunately, I purchased a dosage that was a bit too strong, and my wrestlers canât really do much else after this whole process is complete except to wrestle, work out, and eat.â
âNo, no, Coach, you need to stop this process. My intellect is tantamount to my being! I donât want to become just some other dumb jock. Please, Coach, ya need to stop this! Me no want be dumb! Me like it!â Jonah said, as Coach Barnes watched the dumbing down process happen before his very eyes. At the same time Jonah said âMe like it!,â he came as well, blowing his load inside of the machine and giving it its mandatory cum deposit. His cumshot also removed any last vestiges of his intelligence from his system. He was truly a dumb jock now; there was no turning back.
The machine retreated and Jonah noticed that he had a cock to match his new wrestler body now. Well, he looked down and noticed his cock that he wanted to play with; he wasnât smart enough now to realize what had really just happened to him. The shower then blow-dried him, blowing hot air all around him until no drops of water remained on his person. Then a wrestling singlet was put on his body, the shower helping Jonah to get into it with minimal effort.
The door finally opened, and Jonah stepped out in his singlet, hoping to please his coach. âI see the machine did a perfect job, like always. Your name is Jonah, boy, you need to remember that. You like to hang out with other guys and drink beer, do weed, flirt with hot women, pretty much do whatever they do. Youâre a dumb jock frat bro wrestler now, Jonah, and youâre fuckinâ proud of it! You donât even know what 2+2 is now, and canât even write your last name correctly, but none of that matters when all you need to do is fuck and wrestle!â
Coach Barnes gave him some additional details to his backstory, like how he had failed his senior year four times now, and was allowed to stay on the team because of how hot he was and how good he was at wrestling. He made sure that Jonah was straight, which he had been even before the jockification shower, and he helped Jonah switch into the classes for dumb jocks, which required them to do stuff like point to a circle on their final exams. No one ever discovered Coach Barnesâs jockification showers, and when he transferred to another college, he set up the system there as well.
My thick bear cock was aching, leaking precum down my hairy thigh. I found Ethan at the bar, a cute, smooth, skinny twink who looked nervous but excited when I pressed my massive gut against him and invited him back to my place.
As soon as we got through the door, I had him bent over the bed.
I didnât go slow.
I shoved my fat, throbbing bear cock deep into his tight little hole in one powerful thrust. Ethan moaned loudly, gripping the sheets as I started pounding him mercilessly, my heavy hairy belly slapping rhythmically against his smooth back.
âFuck⊠youâre so tight,â I growled, lost in the pleasure.
I had no idea Compound B was still contagious.
I fucked him harder, deeper, grunting like a beast as my heavy balls tightened. When I finally roared and unloaded inside him pumping thick ropes of hot bear cum deep into his guts,I thought that was it, that this would be a pump and dump.
Then Ethan started whimpering.
âOh god⊠somethingâs happeningâŠâ
The changes hit him fast and hard.
It started in his ass. I felt his hole suddenly clench and pulse around my cock as it loosened and deepened, becoming a proper bear hole. Then his spine arched as his back broadened, shoulders widening with audible pops. His smooth chest began to itch violently, dark, coarse hair sprouting rapidly across his pecs, spreading downward in thick waves until his entire torso was covered in a dense, musky pelt.
His stomach was next.
Ethan gasped as his belly surged forward, swelling dramatically into a huge, soft, rounded gut that hung heavily. Thick hair continued to spread over the new belly, covering every inch. His nipples darkened and thickened, becoming sensitive bear tits that begged to be played with.
âFuuuuck!â he cried out, voice cracking and dropping into a deep, gravelly rumble.
His arms ballooned with fat and muscle, biceps thickening, forearms growing strong and hairy. His legs followed his thighs exploding in size, calves rounding out, everything covered in thick fur. His face pushed forward, jaw squaring off as a full, bushy beard exploded across his cheeks and chin, he looks much older now. Made even older as his hairline receded slightly, giving him that perfect mature bear look.
His cock was the last to change.
It swelled dramatically in my hand as I reached around to stroke him growing longer, thicker, heavier, until he had a fat, uncut bear cock leaking against the underside of his new massive gut.
When it was finally over, Ethan , now a big, hairy, bearded bear just like me, collapsed onto the bed, panting, his enormous furry belly rising and falling with every breath.
He slowly sat up, staring down at himself in disbelief. His big hands roamed over his heavy gut, squeezing the soft, hairy flesh, tugging on his new thick nipples. His fat cock twitched hard against his belly.
âWhat⊠what the fuck did you do to me?â he growled in his new deep voice, looking equal parts shocked and insanely turned on.
I stared at the massive bear I had just created, my own cock already getting hard again.
âI didnât know it could spread like thatâŠâ I admitted, voice thick with lust.
Ethan looked down at his transformed body once more, then back at me with hungry eyes. He gave his heavy belly a slap, watching it jiggle, and grinned.
âCompound Bâ the guy at the clinic smirked as he jabbed the needle into my ass. âGonna turn you into a proper bear, boy. Big, hairy, and hungrier than youâve ever been.â
The heat hit me like a freight train.
It started in my balls, a deep, throbbing ache that made my cock swell instantly, thickening in my shorts. Then the real changes began.
My gut surged forward, ballooning into a massive, heavy bear belly that forced my shirt open with a loud rip. Thick, coarse black hair erupted across my chest and stomach, spreading rapidly until my entire torso was covered in a dense, musky pelt. My pecs swelled into two heavy, soft, hairy slabs, fat nipples hardening as they pushed through the fur. My beard exploded outward, thick and wild, while my face rounded into a proper daddy bear look.
âFuuuuckâŠâ I growled, my voice now a deep, gravelly rumble that made my own cock twitch.
I was rock hard. My new, thicker cock strained against my underwear, leaking precum as the changes continued, it looks like it my have shrunk in length, but the increase in girth more than made up for it. My ass plumped up into two heavy, hairy cheeks. My thighs thickened, covered in fur. Everything about me felt bigger, heavier, and hornier.
By the time it finished, I was sitting on the couch completely transformed. I was nowa massive, hairy bear with a huge gut resting on my lap, thick fur everywhere, and a raging hard in.
I couldnât stop touching myself.
My big, meaty hands roamed over my hairy belly, squeezing the soft flesh, tugging on my sensitive nipples. Every touch sent jolts of pleasure straight to my cock. I was leaking like a faucet, a wet spot growing on the fabric.
âGod damn⊠I need to fuck,â I groaned, stroking my thick bear cock slowly.
The urge was overwhelming. Not just any fuck. I needed twinks. Skinny, smooth, eager little guys who would moan and squirm under my heavy body. I wanted to pin one down, smother him with my hairy gut, and bury my fat bear cock deep inside his tight hole, stretching its wide while he whimpered.
I could already picture it, me grabbing some cute college boy, pressing my massive furry belly against his back, growling in his ear as I bred him senseless, taking his virginity. The thought made me throb harder.
I stood up, my heavy body jiggling, cock bouncing between my thick thighs.
Compound B hadnât just made me a bear.
It had turned me into a horny, insatiable bear daddy with one mission:
Find a twink and ruin him, little did I know Compound B can be sexually transmitted with the first 24 hours of taking it, so whatever twink I fuck is about to have the fucking of their lives before they transform into a bear themselves.
Cory had gone over the plan in his head. He was going to book it down the hall, get his bag from his locker, find an open exit and get the hell out of dodge. It was a lot easier said than done, some sort of weird virus had taken his school by storm. Given that the virus was only affecting men and he goes to an all boys school, it took only a day for the entire school to be fully infected.
The outbreak started when he was in Pre-Calc. He was sitting in the front of the class when he heard a kid in the back shout âGET OFF OF ME!â When he turned around he saw Levi, the most stereotypical jock, grabbing one of their classmates and then he watched as within a matter of seconds the classmate turned into a big, muscular meathead, just like Levi. The weird thing was that as the kid grew he let out a loud echoing fart that was almost cartoonish as it was a bright green hue.
Cory couldnât help but watch as the two students grabbed more and more students slowly turning most of the room into Hulk-like teens each letting out their own ripe torrent of gas as they grew. He ran out of the class and as he looked back into the classroom saw his teacher get grabbed and saw him turn too. Running down the hall with only a few others who escaped the class, Cory watched as a door right next to him flew open. It knocked down one of the students he was with, and before anyone could react this absurdly big man came out and grabbed the student who was knocked to the floor. Flailing to escape the kid screamed âHELP ME PLEASE ANY-â but was cut off as suddenly âFRAAAAPâ a foul green cloud was expelled from his butt cheeks and the space around him filled with the fart funk. He had to watch as the newly transformed Jock was released and let out a loud âHUHUHUHâ before lunging at another boy.
Running further down the hall and into a classroom that looked empty, Cory bursted in and was met with the lingering smell of stale farts, he quickly ran to hide behind a desk. Glancing up at the whiteboard he saw that he was in Mr.Jackâs room. Cory loved Mr.Jack and also knew that his best friend Mikey has his class right now. Although there was no one in the room, Cory whispered loudly enough to be heard âMikeyyyy, are you in hereeee?â. No response, so he whispered it again. He heard rustling from the other side of the room and saw as a cabinet opened and miraculously Mikey emerged. Filled with relief that he wasnât alone and that his best friend was uninfected, Cory ran to Mikey but Mikey stayed put and put his finger to his mouth. Confused, Cory slowed down and noticed Mikey pointing to the roomâs closet. Cory asked Mikey âWhat is going on dude?â and Mikey didnât respond, electing just to put his finger back up to his mouth. Mikey gestured to the roomâs door, trying to give the hint that they needed to leave but Cory said âMikey! Dude! We canât go out there, itâs crazy outside!â Alerted by the noise Cory made, the closet began to make noise, and then something on the other side began to bang on it. Unfortunately for the two boys the door didnât hold for very long and when the door quickly came down out strode a buff but not huge young guy, he looked no older than 19 but he had a striking resemblance to Mr.Jack. What was even stranger was that he was wearing one of Mr.Jackâs ties around his neck.
He looked at the boys and dumbly chuckled as he suddenly rushed at them and they were forced to dance around classroom desks and chairs in an effort to avoid him. Running for the door the two boys made it out barely as Jack barreled through the desks not paying them any mind. Slamming the door behind them they took down the hall again looking for a safe haven.
Making down the hall and into a utility closet the two boys caught their breath as they leaned on the cluttered shelves. The boys told each other what had happened to them and that is when Cory learned that Mr.Jack was giving a test and was walking through the aisles when Miles, one of the schoolâs wrestlers, grabbed Mr.Jack and wouldnât let go. Mr.Jack tried to escape and was calling for help just like the kid in the hall when suddenly he let out an absolutely putrid fart, worse than Mikey had ever smelled, and fell silent. It only took a little bit of time until Mr.Jack turned into what the two boys saw in the classroom. Mikey went on to say that the boys sitting near Mr.Jack and Miles began coughing until they let out their own less putrid farts and transformed too. Mikey ended up hiding in a large cabinet while the rest of the class was chased out of the class by the newly minted jocks. He had eventually slipped out of the cabinet and ended up trapping Mr.Jack in the closet, and for whatever reason he was incapable of opening up the door, Mikey hadnât locked it since he didnât have the key and he had nothing to block the door. From comparing each other's stories the two of you deduced that inhaling Jock Gas will transform you into a jock yourself and that once transformed the person has all intelligence zapped from their brain, essentially turning them into a Jock Zombie.
The two of you then proceeded to start coming up with a plan on how to escape. They needed to get to their lockers to retrieve their things, mainly they needed their car keys which were stored away in their backpacks kept in their lockers. They also need to find a viable exit given that Jock Zombies were roaming the campus everywhere. Mikeyâs locker was on the opposite side of the school, and Coryâs locker was on the second floor and the boys found themselves on the first. As they were getting ready to open the door to go get their bags, thatâs when it happened. Mikeyâs stomach growled and clutched his stomach, feeling something bad was happening Cory, filled with worry, asked âMikeyâŠ? What's wrong bud?â, âIâŠI donât knowâŠMy stomachâŠit feelsâŠBRAAAAAPâ Mikey fell silent. He was turning before Coryâs very eyes, his best friend was turning into a jock. The boys didnât realize it but all the time Mikey spent hiding away in the fart-filled classroom was enough to infect him, it just took time to transform him into a jock. Quickly rushing out of the utility closet before he could smell Mikeyâs rancid Jock Gas, all Cory could do was watch as his best friend was turned into a big, gassy idiot. Cory watched through the tiny window the door had. He watched as Mikey grew beefier and beefier as the window slowly got clouded up by the green hue of the Jock Gas.
Cory was devastated by the loss of his friend, Mikey was so kind and smart and it was all stripped away because he breathed in a stupid fart. Cory couldnât believe that any of this was happening but he still knew that he had to go on and escape. He began to cautiously make his way to the stairs, he passed by a couple of jocks but they seemed occupied, already trying to get to other nerds to turn them into Jock Zombies. Cory carefully made his way up the stairs and was able to get to his locker, which luckily was only a little ways down the hall from the staircase. He put in the combination and slowly opened up his locker and reached inside. grabbing his backpack, he quickly pulled it out but in doing so he dragged his water bottle out, and it fell to the floor. Letting out a deafening ringing sound, the metal water bottle noisily clanged to the floor. Cory knew that he was gonna have to run and hide before any dim-witted Jocks converged on his locker. He made his way back down the stairs and sighed a sigh of relief as the Jocks down on the first floor were still preoccupied with catching the students they were already focused on. As he began looking for an exit he could see that the main doors were wide open and there was no one around to stop him. But it was just his luck that one of his classmates from your Pre-Calc class tried to B-line it for those open doors. He had a Jock on his tail and it looked like the lanky student was gonna make it out when suddenly another jock wandered into the hallway as the student was looking behind him at how close the Jock tailing him was. The student ran right into the wandering Jock and fell flat on his back. Catching up as soon as he fell, the Jock chasing him squatted over the students face and Cory watched as a green fart cloud was forced right onto the students face. He couldn't bear to watch another innocent kid turn into a farting buffoon but as he looked away Cory knew that that exit was no longer a safe escape. Not since three Jocks are around it.
After scouting out a couple more exits, Cory finally found one that seemed like an easy escape. As he crouched his way towards it he heard a pair of footsteps behind him. He wanted to run away and get to the door but before he could even try he looked behind him. He was met with a fat, smelly Jock butt, the Jock had pulled his pants down enough to expose his bare ass. Cory was quickly dealt a face full of a hot, steamy, rank fart, contaminated with the virus turning all his peers into stinky Jocks. Falling to the ground, Cory began coughing and he realized who the Jock who just infected him was, it was Mikey.
Feeling like a failure, he couldnât save Mikey and he couldnât even save himself, Cory began to feel the effects of the noxious fumes take over his mind and body. He tried to apologize to Mikey for failing them both but all that got out was âMikeyâŠIm soâŠsor-PFFFBBBTTTTâ He was done for, the fart he just released from his rapidly expanding ass was not only filled with his natural boy stink but it was also Cory releasing all of his intelligence, his insecurities, his memories, his fears, etc. Cory was no longer Cory. Cory was now a Jock Zombie, his only thoughts were about making more Jock Zombies and hanging out with his bros. Coryâs transformation quickly concluded as his body doubled in muscle mass and his body was transformed into a fart producing machine. He let out a moronic chuckle and started hunting for a nother person to Zombify.
Rob and two of his fraternity brothers, Jeff and Andy, decided to rent a cabin in a rural area for a long weekend. With school coming back in a few weeks, it would be their last chance to get in some âbro timeâ and relax before their senior year. By next summer, theyâd be going their separate ways, so why not crack open some beers in a nice setting.
They didnât know much about the AirBnB they rented, but it had a lot of bells and whistles. There was a jacuzzi and fire pit on the large deck out back and plenty of room for each of them to have their own room. They brought in plenty of supplies to eat, drink, and relax.
Rob decided to take a nap one afternoon. When he woke, he heard Jeff and Andy out on the porch. When he opened the sliding door, he noticed they were outside smoking cigars around the fire pit. âYo, bros, where did you get the cigars?â, he asked. Jeff answered, âOne of the neighbors came by to say hello.â Andy continued, âYeah, he was really cool. He gave us these cigars and said they would really help us relax.â
âHave you dudes been working out, too?â, Rob asked, âyou look bigger than I remember from this morning.â âProbably just been relaxing too much, I guess,â Jeff said. âYeah,â, Andy said, âthe dude said one of the side effects of relaxing might be some weight gain.â âBros,â Rob asked, âwhy do you keep saying the word relax so much? Itâs starting to creep me out.â Rob started to recognize that the boys were almost in a trance the way they were acting. Their eyes seemed glassy as they kept mindlessly smoking their cigars.
âItâs totally OK, bro,â Jeff said, âyou should relax with us.â âYeah,â Andy said, âsit down and relax.â The smoke from the cigars seemed to be affecting Rob. The more the guys said the word relax, it was like he was becoming more and more compelled to do so. âThis is all too much,â he said shaking his head, âI donât want to relax.â
âYeah, you do,â Jeff said, âjust come over, grab a cigar and relax. Come hang out with your bros.â Andy added, âItâs totally worth it, bro. I feel so good and relaxed. You donât know what youâre missing.â Rob couldnât take it anymore. Seeing his bros so relaxed, almost seeming to grow in front of his eyes. He thought, âItâs just a cigar, whatâs the big deal?â
âAlright bros,â Rob said, âIâll relax with you for a while.â Jeff handed Rob a cigar, cutter, and lighter. As he puffed his stogie to life, Rob understood why his bros were loving these cigars. They were in a beautiful setting, out in the open, forest all around them. It was a perfect time to just relax and let all the stress go away. While he was sitting there, he could also feel almost every cell in his body coming to life. His muscles were growing, but he was also gaining some weight in his mid-section. He didnât care though, all he wanted to do was continue relaxing.
About 30 minutes later, Jeff and Andy broke the relaxing silence. âHey, bro,â Jeff said, âwe should head inside for a bit and relax some more.â Andy said, âTotally, bro. I could definitely relax inside for a while.â As they stood up, Rob noticed they were looking each other in the eyes. They were all as straight as the other bros in their fraternity. They enjoyed spending time with each other, but it was never in a gay way. Â
Initially, as these thoughts crossed his mind, Rob became slightly uncomfortable. However, he kept relaxing and smoking his cigar. He turned to see his bros holding hands as they walked inside the house - still smoking their cigars. He wanted to say, âStop, weâre not supposed to smoke in the house. We might lose our deposit.â However, all he could do was see his growing chub and think, âThose dudes are sexy.â
A good 30 minutes later, Rob was still smoking his cigar and relaxing while staring out in the woods, listening to the wind rustle the trees. He was so relaxed. He didnât notice the door slide open as a stranger stepped foot on the deck. As he turned, Rob didnât even flinch seeing the man, much older than himself and his bros. He was covered in hair, tattoos, and wearing nothing but a hat, jock strap, and work boots.
âHello, boy,â the man said, âare you relaxed?â âYes, Iâm very relaxed,â Rob answered. âGood boyâ the man responded, âitâs important that you continue relaxing for me.â Rob vacantly continued sucking on his cigar, thinking only about how relaxed he was and how sexy this man was. âMy name is Wallace, boy,â the man said, âIâm the owner of this cabin. When people stay here, I usually go to the other cabin I have next door. But when you and your friend decided to visit, I thought it was important that you relax.â
âThank you,â Rob said, âwe are really enjoying ourselves. This place is so relaxing.â âGood, boy,â Wallace said, âwhatâs your name?â Rob answered. âWell, Robert,â Wallace continued, âwe go by menâs names here. Your friends Jeffrey and Andrew told me you all were visiting before going back to school. What would you say about staying here and relaxing with me? I could really use the help running the AirBnB.â
Robert thought about it for a moment, âI love relaxing here, Wallace. This has been an amazing experience. But I need to get back to school.â âNow, why would you want to do that, Robert?â, Wallace asked, âJeffrey and Andrew are going to stay so they can continue relaxing. I think you should stay, too.â
Two men Rob didnât recognize stepped out onto the deck. âYou should stay here with us, Robertâ, one of them said. âYeah,â the other one said, âwe are going to stay here with Wallace and help him out.â Both men took hauls on their cigars and exchanged smoke-filled, passionate kisses. Rob could recognize them now, about 20-25 years older than they were before, with beards, body hair, and wrinkles. It was Jeff and Andy.
The shirtless men started approaching Rob, when he had a slight moment of clarity. âWhat the hell is going on here?â he asked. Jeffrey and Andrew smiled around their cigars as Wallace answered, âJeffrey and Andrew relaxed like good boys, just as I encouraged them to do. Through relaxation, they realized they were in love - or at least in lust - with one another.â âHell yeah,â Jeffrey said, âAndrew here is one hot fucker, donât you think Robert? Why donât you help Robert relax some more?â With Jeffreyâs approval, Andrew approached Rob and started to lean in to give him a kiss.
âBack off, Andrew,â Wallace interjected, âyouâve got Jeffrey. This one is mine.â Andrew went back to Jeffrey. Wallace took a haul off his cigar and gave Rob an injection of his smoke. Robâs eyes and cock sprung to life. âThat was fucking sexy, Wallaceâ, Andrew said. âThere is still much for you boys to learn,â Wallace said, âso, Robert, why donât you join me inside where we can relax together?â
Rob stood up, his growing body almost losing his balance under his new girth. âFuck, you are going to be a sexy man when Iâm done with you,â Wallace said. Rob grabbed Wallaceâs hand as they disappeared into the cabin, leaving Jeffrey and Andrew on the deck.
A few months later, there was a knock on the door of the cabin. When the door opened, a thick man, hairy man, wearing leather pants and a harness, smoking a large cigar said, âHello, my name is Robert. My husband Wallace and I welcome you to our AirBnB. Weâll be staying down the road in our cabin, but the onsite staff Jeffrey and Andrew are here to make sure you have a relaxing stay. If any of us can help you out in any way, donât hesitate to let us know. Sometimes, people feel so relaxed they never want to leave.â
Alan is a huge twink, he can bearly lift a 30 lbs weight in one arm and he has a huge crush on muscle daddies. So he signed in a gym near his school to stalk muscle man,but this gym is a bit different than all the gym he has come. This place full of muscle male,like all of them,they looks like they has been a pro bodybuilder since 20 years old. So he came in,pretending lift a heavy weight. But he struggled so hard that he asked for help. A massive man comes to him with a masculine voice:âNeed some help young man?â
He turns around and saw an alpha male right in front of him,his muscle,his beard,his face gave him a huge boner. Alan said:âUhm,i can barely lift this,this is the first time i go to the gym so...â. That man laugh:âYoung man,i can show the way to lift heavier things than thisâ,he slaps Alanâs ass:â I saw you glanced every guy in the room,you fag right? Donât be shyâ. Alan face turns red,but the manâs massive arm dragging him near:â I said donât be shy,come meet me in the bathroomâ. After saying that, the man went away,Alan was confusing,but also felt so hot. Without second thought,he came to the bathroom. The man standing in a bathroom,washing his alpha body,Alan canât look away his hairy muscle and his massive dick. Oh my goodness,how long is that dick? Alan ask himself,9 inch,12 inch. The man suddenly turned to Alan and grabbing him,the door was closed,he dragged Alan and kissed him violently while grabbing Alan in the neck with just one hand. Alan groped the manâs massive chest and hugged him. He felt every orgasm while touching his hard muscle, this is a twink dream. After that, the man turns Alan back,with his massive dick waiting to fit this twink hole. âReady for it you boy?â,âYes daddyâ. The man fucks Alan really hard,the massive dick hardly fits Alanâs hole slowly go inside Alan. Alan felt a lite pain as first then slowly it becomes a huge orgasm for him. He felt testosterone from that manâs dick come to his hole.âYES FUCK ME LIKE A BITCH DADDYâ. After a long time,the man started to cum,a long long cum was shot right into that twink hole.âOops,a little too much, i wonder can you handle it?â The man said. At that time,Alanâs mind is just full of satisfaction.
But suddenly,Alan felt a weird tensions come through his body. He suddenly felt like the ground is further, oh my gosh, he was growing,from 5â8 to 6â3,even taller than the man. âWhat is happening to me?â Alan said,âI said i will show you the way to lift those heavy weight,now enjoy the muscle male you will becomeâ. Alanâs body suddenly growing muscle,it becomes bigger and wider like pumping a balloon,veins come through his skin slowly appears bigger. His chest becomes bigger and harder,his biceps growing even bigger than that manâs face,his legs becomes wider and more musscular,his face slowly growing a beard and becomes more masculine and slowly growing hair all over his body. His dick growing longer and more massive from 7 inch to 12 inch hard. He felt testosterone flowing all over his body to his dick,his voice sounds more threatening and more manlier now. He let a loud moan out,he grabbing his giant dick with his massive arm and cums rapidly. His weak twink personality was gone,now he becomes more and more manlier,masculine and alpha man right now. â Damn this shit was goodâ Alan turned to the male,the both kissed each others,Alan hugged the man with his massive arms,they slowly felt in love with each others. Well Alan is a dominant top now,they switched position sometimes. And then a new muscular man appears in the gym now. Alan was more satisfied of being an alpha male more than a twink. Alan steps out living his greatest daddy life now!
As part of a trade for @occamstf. Also, some of my stories are old, and if you wanted to rewrite them, use similar concepts, do a "remake" etc please reach out! Happy to collab and get your spin on one of my old stories!
Tristan tried to weave in between the sweaty bodies of several shirtless frat bros, doing his best to avoid spilling the beer in his red solo cup. The smell of beer and cheap cologne clung to them, which only made Tristan feel dizzy. Worst yet, the music was loud, so loud that he could barely hear himself think.
"This was a mistake." He thought as he escaped the crowd of people and leaned up against the wall in the corner of the frat house, "At least I gave it a try."
Tristan was never someone who imagined he'd enjoy the party scene, but given that it was nearing the end of his freshman year, he figured he should at least give it a try. At least he knew now that parties were not his thing, and neither was the beer in his still nearly full red solo cup.
"Where'd they go?" He preened his neck to see if he could locate his friends from the dorm, "I shouldn't leave without them."
But after a few minutes of searching, he decided to give up. He'd text them and check in on them in the morning. And with that, he made his way towards the door. But before Tristan could reach the front door, somebody bumped into him, splashing the beer across his hoodie.
"I'm sorry!" Tristans squeaked out, looking down at his beer soaked shirt, "I didn't mean..."
The apology died in his throat. The guy he'd bumped into was huge. Not just tall. Huge. Broad shoulders stretched the sleeves of a gray fraternity shirt. Thick forearms crossed over a chest that looked like it had been carved out of granite. A backwards baseball cap sat low on his head, and even in the dim party lighting Tristan could see the confident grin spreading across his face.
"Dude."
"S-sorry."
"Damn dude." The guy barked out a laugh, "There you go again."
"Wh-what?"
"Apologizing."
"S-sorry?"
The guy burst out laughing, as did the group of jocks behind him. Tristan felt his face turn red and he looked down. But he felt a muscular arm thrown around his shoulders and he was pulled in close to the guy's sweaty, muscular torso. Up close, Tristan could smell sweat, deodorant, and stale beer clinging to the guy's shirt. It wasn't exactly pleasant, but somehow the guy seemed completely unaware of it. Or maybe he simply didn't care.
"Name's Ryan." He said, "You?"
"Tristan."
"Freshman?"
"Y-yeah."
"Figured." Ryan smirked, and Tristan could see something predatory flash through the frat bro's eyes, "You gonna take that off." He nodded towards the beer-soaked hoodie.
"I-I'll change when I get home." Tristan replied quickly.
"No you fuckin' won't." Ryan pulled Tristan towards the stairs, "I ain't letting a freshman walk home soaked in shitty beer. I've got something for you in my room."
"I really don't need..."
"Yeah, you do."
Ryan didn't even slow down. He kept a hand planted firmly on Tristan's shoulder as he guided him up the stairs. Tristan was struck by how easily the larger man moved through the crowded house. People stepped aside without even seeming to realize they were doing it. A few called Ryan's name. Others nodded in greeting. Ryan answered every one of them with the effortless confidence of someone completely at home.
"Seriously," Tristan said as they reached the second floor landing, "you don't have to do this."
"Yeah. I do."
Ryan pushed open a door near the end of the hallway and stepped inside. The room looked exactly how Tristan imagined a fraternity president's room would look.
"You like?"
Sports memorabilia covered the walls. Framed photographs showed Ryan posing with teammates, fraternity brothers, and various championship trophies. A collection of baseball caps hung above a dresser. The room smelled faintly of detergent, deodorant, and the lingering musk of somebody who spent most of his time either at practice or in the gym.
"It's... nice." Tristan replied.
"Good, glad you like it."
"You play football?" Tristan asked, nodding toward one of the trophies.
Ryan laughed, "Played. Graduating in three weeks."
Tristan watched as Ryan yanked his shirt off, revealing his physique. The guy was built. Not in the exaggerated way movie superheroes were built. Ryan looked real. Years of football, lifting, and hard training had left thick muscle packed across his shoulders, chest, and arms. Ryan caught him staring.
"What?"
Tristan immediately looked away, "Nothing."
"Bullshit." Ryan laughed and tossed the fraternity shirt onto the bed, "You were checking out the gains."
"N... No... I..."
"It's okay." Ryan walked up to him, "You like it, don't you?"
"It's not..."
"C'mon bro, stop fuckin' playing." Ryan grinned, "Everyone wants this." His hands suddenly pulled at the hem of Tristan's shirt, "Let's see what we're working with here."
Before Tristan could object, Ryan grabbed the hem of his beer-soaked hoodie and peeled it over his head. The cool air of the room immediately hit Tristan's skin. He instinctively folded his arms across his chest, suddenly aware of how much smaller he looked standing in front of the jock. Ryan slowly nodded. A smile spread across his face.
"You'll do."
"What are you...?"
But Ryan was suddenly on his knees, looking up at Tristan with a smirk. And before Tristan could react, Ryan was fumbling with his belt.
"I need this, bro." Ryan said.
"Wait... I..." Was this really happening? Tristan could never imagine that a guy as hot as this would ever...
"You want this, don't you?"
"Y-yeah..." Tristan bit his lip.
"There we go, bro."
As Ryan pulled Tristanâs pants down, letting them pool around his ankles, he leaned forward and looked up. His eyes locked onto Tristanâs with an unyielding, dominant confidence. The heat of Ryan's breath hit Tristan's cock just a second before his lips made contact. The moment Ryan took Tristan into his mouth, a strange, electric jolt shot through both of them.
"Oh god..." Tristan moaned. This was his first BJ and god it felt better than he could've possibly imagined. Ryan's tongue worked the head of his hard cock, and he could feel the jock's firm hands grasp his skinny ass.
And as Ryan rhythmically bobbed his head, his hands gripped Tristanâs thighs tightly. And as he gripped harder, Tristanâs thighs, typically lean and soft, felt a sudden, internal surge. The muscle fibers beneath the skin began to swell and density doubled. At the same time, Ryan grunted as his heavy, square jawline that had defined his face for years began to soften, the sharp angles rounding out. His grip on Tristan's thighs wavered as his own fingers lost a fraction of their calloused thickness, shortening and becoming smoother.
"Wait..." Tristan choked out, his hands trembling as he gripped his own newly expanding legs. "Ryan, what... what are you doing to me? What is this?"
Ryan didn't answer. He couldn't. His lips were wrapped firmly around Tristanâs cock, his head bobbing with an intense, deliberate rhythm. But looking down, Tristan saw a frightening yet mesmerizing change overtaking the older man. Ryanâs massive, boulder-like shoulders were visibly losing their breadth. The thick, rigid muscles of the jock's back were softening, compressing inward, collapsing into a much smaller, slighter frame.
A sudden, sharp pressure bloomed in Tristanâs own chest. He arched his back, crying out as his ribcage expanded with a loud, deep pop.
"Ah! Oh god, my chest!"
Tristan watched in absolute awe as his narrow torso erupted outward. Layers of dense, heavy pectoral muscle sheeted across his skin, stretching his pale flesh until it turned a healthy, sun-kissed golden-tan. His collarbones broadened, pushing his shoulders out so wide that he had to brace his feet against the floor just to keep his balance. He felt massive. He felt heavy. And he reached up to give his new pecs a squeeze with his increasingly thicker hands. He grunted at the feeling of the firm flesh beneath his palm and let out another moan as Ryan's pace quickened.
"Ryan... fuck..."
Down below, the hands gripping his thighs had completely changed. They were no longer the rough, calloused hands of a football captain; they were smaller, the fingers shorter and smoother. They were Tristan's hands.
Ryan let out a muffled, desperate grunt against Tristan's length, his eyes squeezed shut. The backward baseball cap sitting on Ryan's head suddenly slipped, sliding down a face that was rapidly losing its sharp, hyper-masculine definition. Ryan's jawline was shrinking, the bone structure shifting and rounding into a softer, much more delicate shape.
"Ryan, stop! Look at me!" Tristan pleaded, but the voice that left his throat completely shocked him. The high-pitched, nervous squeak of a freshman was gone. Instead, a deep, resonant rumble vibrated through his expanded chest... a rich, commanding baritone that belonged entirely to the man on his knees. "My voice... I sound like... you?"
Ryan squeezed Tristan's thicker ass, as if to reassure him. And then, without hesitating, continued to suck him off. Tristan moaned as he felt his cock start to lengthen in Ryan's mouth. Becoming girthier, thicker. All the while, the bulge in Ryan's pants became less impressive.
"S..Stop... wh-what is this?"
He looked down at his arms. His thin, spindly forearms were ballooning, thick veins pulsing beneath the skin as rock-hard muscle packed itself around his bones. Right before his eyes, a faint, dark ink began to bleed upward through his skin, settling into the exact shape of the fraternity tattoo Ryan was sporting earlier.
Ryan finally pulled back, gasping for air, and looked up at Tristan.
Tristan stared down, his breath catching in his throat. He was looking at himself. Ryanâs face had completely transformed into Tristanâs own fresh-faced, wide-eyed freshman features. His messy, soft brown hair fell into his eyes, and his expression was entirely devoid of his previous swagger, replaced by a vulnerable, submissive awe.
"I'm... I'm you," Tristan whispered, his large, heavy hand instinctively reaching up to touch his own face. His fingers brushed against a rugged, broken nose bridge and thick jaw, "And you're... you're me."
The boy on his knees smiled, a soft, tired, yet incredibly satisfied expression crossing his newly acquired, youthful face.
"I'm graduating, bro," Ryan whispered, his voice now carrying Tristan's exact light, breathless tone. He looked up at his own former body with a mixture of relief and envy. "I don't want to leave. I'm not ready for the real world. But now, I don't have to leave." He looked at his now lankier frame, "Might take some work, but I'll rebuild everything I had here."
"No... no, please. I didn't agree to this." Tristan begged, his voice a heavy, vibrating rumble that practically shook his own newly expanded ribs.
But even as the desperate plea left his lips, his new body was completely overwhelming his senses. The physical reality of being Ryan was staggering. Tristan gasped as a sudden wave of heat rolled over him, bringing with it a whole new sensory world. He didn't smell like himself anymore; he could smell the heavy, masculine scent of expensive sport deodorant, deep musk, and the faint, bitter tang of dried sweat from a long workout.
"This is how it is now, bro," Ryan whispered from below. He used Tristanâs small, smooth hands to brush a strand of soft, messy brown hair out of his eyes, looking up with a serene, relaxed smile. "Look around. You liked my muscles, right? You were checking out the gains. You liked my room, the trophies. Itâs all yours now. I get to restart as you, and you get to be the big man on campus. Itâs a fair trade."
"No, it's not!" Tristan protested, tears of pure panic forming. "I don't want to be the big man on campus! I want to be a student! I want to live my life, go to my own classes, hang out with my roommates... I can't just occupy your life! I'm not you!"
Ryan let out a soft, youthful chuckle, shaking his head. Tristan's old face looked so innocent, so small from up here. "Too late for that, man. Look at yourself. You are me now. In three weeks, you're walking across that stage with a degree. You need to start acting like me so my brothers and teammates don't get suspicious. Walk tall. Stop stuttering. You've got practice tomorrow morning."
"I can't," Tristan whispered, his massive chest heaving as a cold sweat broke out over his broad, tanned shoulders. He felt completely disconnected from the timid freshman he was supposed to be, trapped inside a prison of pure, unyielding muscle. "I don't know how to be you. I don't know how to act like this. I can't do it, Ryan..."
"Let me help you adjust," Ryan whispered softly, his eyes darkening with a quiet, deliberate intent.
Before Tristan could even think to push him away, Ryan leaned back in. The motion was slow, incredibly sensual, and deeply intimate. Tristanâs massive, throbbing cock slid past Ryanâs new, soft lips, and the moment the wet, intense warmth enclosed him, a gasp tore from Tristan's throat.
Ryan didn't rush. He bobbed his head with a slow, agonizingly perfect rhythm, swirling his tongue around the hyper-sensitive, engorged head. Tristanâs knees buckled slightly, his massive thighs trembling under the sheer sensory overload. As the warmth of Ryan's mouth worked over his length, Tristan felt his mind begin to fracture. His core memories... the long nights studying in the library, his quiet dorm room, his nervous anxiety around crowds... began to haze over, melting away.
In their place, a torrent of foreign thoughts, impulses, and memories rushed in to fill the void. Tristan choked out a moan, his thick fingers tangling in his own soft brown hair on Ryan's head, but he wasn't trying to pull him away anymore. He was remembering the roar of the stadium crowd. He was remembering the exact weight of a football in his palm. He was remembering the absolute, unshakeable certainty that he owned every single room he walked into.
"Oh god... fuck..." Tristan groaned, but the panic in his voice was rapidly dissolving, replaced by a dark, heavy, confident heat.
His internal monologue was shifting. The anxious, overthinking voice of the freshman was being utterly crushed, flattened beneath a rising tide of raw, unadulterated jock confidence. The world was reorganizing itself in his mind. He looked down at the boy giving him pleasure, and he didn't see his old self anymore. He just saw a freshman. A cute, soft little freshman who belonged on his knees, doing exactly what he was told.
Ryan... the original Ryan- finally pulled back with a wet, heavy sigh, wiping his mouth with the back of his small hand. He looked up at his old body with a submissive, wide-eyed awe, completely content to be small, young, and entirely free of the real world.
The man standing above him didn't look confused or scared anymore. He adjusted his stance, his broad, shoulders squaring perfectly as a cocky, predatory smirk spread across his rugged face. He looked around at his sports memorabilia, his trophies, and then down at his freshman, feeling completely, utterly at home.
"Damn, bro," Ryan rumbled, his deep, dominant baritone dripping with an effortless authority as he reached down, his heavy hand firmly gripping the freshman's hair. "You're pretty fucking good at this. Who told you to stop, bro?"
Ben and Kolby had gone to their friend Kendra's house for a BBQ, each thinking they might be able to find some chick to hook up with. What they did not know was that another of Kendra's friends had plans of his own. Liam, a hairy gay bear and secret mage, spiked the punch with more than just rum. Slowly, as the men at the party each filled up a solo cup and downed the bright red drink, they began to change.
Each one began to grow hair across their bodies. Men who were cleanshaven sprouted beards, and each existing beard thickened into hearty fur around their mouths. Each began to bloat as weight was added to their bodies, some with muscles to match. Kolby failed to notice right away that his shirt was riding up his increasingly large and hairy belly. He did notice when his friend Ben walked over to him and was almost six inches taller instead of being three inches shorter like normal.
As Ben locked eyes with the now much shorter Kolby, a twinkle lit up his expression as he looked at his friend. Kolby's now quite stout body struck Ben with a arousal he was not expecting. His dumbfounded expression on his much scruffier face made Ben's heart flutter. Ben's eyes lingered down at Kolby's mouth.
"Woah dude, you are so tall! And you seem pretty thick all of a sudden, too. Hey what are you...?" Kolby was cut off as Ben leaned in for a kiss.
Kolby gave a grunt of confusion, but as their hairy faces rubbed against each other, he knew he didn't want this to stop. Ben reached down and grabbed Kolby's now quite thick ass firmly, the fuzzy giant pulling the pear-shaped pocket-sized bear into a deeper embrace. The two previously thin, vaguely athletic men were now two hairy cubs making out at a house party. Around them, other single men starting touching each other as they transformed into bears of all shapes and sizes.
Not everyone at the party was taken by this wave of homoerotic passion. Liam secretly gave the men already in relationships a partial antidote to the ursine essence potion ahead of time. This made sure they wouldn't be overtaken by desire, nor likely to lose interest in women. However, they still became thick and hairy, along with gaining a new sexual interest in big hairy men like themselves. Liam knew Kendra would be mad at him at first, but he knew that like himself, she liked a hairy man with a little heft on him.
Kolby and Ben groped each other and any thought of hooking up with a woman that night left their minds. The only thought either had was whose bed they were going back to so Ben could fuck Kolby until the early hours of the morning.
Can we please get a sequel to the upside-down tf posted last January? Would love to see how that virus going around swapped another innocent guy with his cock, making him a dumb horny bro
"Rich, seriously you need to go home." Rich sighed, meeting the worried eye of his coworker Anna, "All the other guys stayed home⊠as they were told." She continued to lecture him, "Don't you knowâŠ"
"Yeah, yeah, I've heard the news reports. But do you actually believe all that stuff? I mean, I get that it sounds nasty, but c'mon." Rich smiled, trying to mask his discomfort, "I'm a healthy guy in my prime. What are the odds it would hit me?" He adjusted his watch strap. "Besides, even if I did catch it somehow, they'd figure out a cure quick, right? This is the 21st century after all."
"Rich, seriously. Haven't you seen the news?" Anna insisted, "And not just the news! What about Jake? You heard, right?" Rich nodded slowly- he thought it was just a rumor, "Then you know. How his girlfriend found him midway through the process andâŠ" She shuddered, "Why would you even risk that? To end up as nothing but aâŠ"
"Woah woah, hold up! Spare me the gory details, thanks." He chuckles, a growing sense of unease building. "I'm sure Jake is fine, right? I meanâŠ." Jake was around his age, probably just as healthy as him- always down to go to the bar after work or join the company's softball team. Rich shuddered- when was the last time he was with Jake? Was it recent?
Anna looked away, "Jake didn't make it. By the time his girlfriend got him to the hospital, the inversion was complete. There wasn't anything they could do."
"Holy shitâŠ" he muttered under his breath, "Okay, maybe this whole staying home thing does make some sense after all." He grabbed his bag, "But what about work? I meanâŠ"
"You can take a break for just a little Rich." Anna said, "You're always working too hard anyway."
Rich sighed, "Fine⊠fine, okayâŠ" He ran a hand through his hair, "Alright, I'm gonna jet. See you when all this blows over."
"Stay safe, Rich." She smiled and watched as he headed out.
--------
Rich rushed through the city streets, his polished shoes tapping against concrete with increasing urgency. As he walked, memories flashed through his mindâbeers at the bar with Matt two nights ago, gym locker room chats with Luke earlier that week. Both of them seemed fine then⊠hadn't they? Matt had sent him a text yesterday afternoon, something about picking up a case of beer, but nothing since. Luke had been quieter tooâtheir usual back-and-forth banter replaced by silence. A cold pit formed in Rich's stomach. If something happened to them⊠he pushed the thought away, breaking into a jog toward his apartment building.
The elevator ride felt endless. When the doors finally opened on his floor, he froze. His neighbor Tom was slumped against his own doorframe, breathing heavily. "Hey⊠Rich," he wheezed, "you lookin' pale man. I think... I need..."
Infected. Rich swallowed hard and rushed past him, quickly entering and slamming his apartment door shut. He sunk to the floor, breathing heavily- his back against the apartment door, chest rising and falling as he tried to steady himself. Something felt⊠off. His stomach twisted uncomfortably, and there was an odd pressure building between his legsânot quite painful, but definitely strange.
"Just stress, just stress." He repeated to himself, "Nothing to worry about, I'm okayâŠ"
His phone buzzed twice in rapid succession. Rich fished it from his pocket with unsteady fingers. Two notifications glared back at himâtexts from both Matt and Luke. His thumb hovered over the screen before he forced himself to open them.
Matt's message came first: a selfie of a broad-shouldered jock flexing in the mirror, grinning wildly. The caption read: "Dude, check out my NEW DICK! Best upgrade EVER!!"
Luke followed immediately: another shirtless selfie, his bulge proudly displayed. "Who knew getting inverted would feel THIS good? LMAO!"
"HBU Richie?"
"Yeah bro, where you at?"
Rich's vision blurred. His stomach lurched violently, and he fell forward. The pressure between his legs intensified, spreading outward like fire.
"God it burns! Fuck!" Rich cried out, tearing his clothes away and throwing them aside, "So hot⊠Ice⊠I need ice!" He let out a moan and fell to his hands and knees, tears dripping down his cheeks, "Wh-what's⊠this isn't⊠No... Not me! I can'tâŠ" His eyes widened as he looked down at his hands, "GodâŠ"
They were changing shape, stretching and thickening. The skin becoming more weathered, coarse hairs sprouting along the backs of his hands.
"WhaâŠ"
Rich stared in horror as his hands elongated⊠thickened. His fingers shrinking, becoming stubby. His palms forming dense callouses. He shook his head frantically, watching as his once smooth hands morphed into two thick, musky meaty feet. "This isn't happening⊠it can't beâŠ"
Rich gagged violently, feeling something foul building up in his throat. He coughed, trying to clear it, but only managed to expel a glob of thick, salty fluid onto the floor. "What the fuck�" He spat again, the taste making him retch.
As he knelt there, shaking, he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. Slowly, his gaze drifted downward. His arms were⊠shifting. The muscles rippling, thickening. Dark hairs sprouting along his forearms, spreading upwards towards his shoulders. His biceps and triceps ballooned, squeezing his head between the growing muscle.
"No⊠please noâŠ" Rich whimpered, watching in terror as his arms lengthened, twisting and contorting. His elbows cracking and shifting into knees, wrists thickening into sturdy ankles.
Rich opened his mouth to scream, but only choked out another gag, more salty fluid oozing from his lips. He coughed and sputtered, moaning as his chest began to ripple and shift. His pecs flattened, stretching outward into a powerful set of abdominal muscles. Meanwhile, his faint six-pack consolidated, the individual abs merging together into a solid slab of rock-hard muscle, bulging outwards into a pair of thick, meaty pecs.
"Mmmphh⊠stop⊠stoppppp!" Rich tried to cry out, but the salty liquid kept pouring forth, filling his mouth and nose.
Rich's legs twitched and writhed, the muscles contracting and expanding. His calves stretched, thickening into powerful biceps. His quads rippled and merged, forming massive triceps. His shins elongated, becoming thick forearms. Even his feet shifted, toes curling inward and merging into thick, calloused hands.
A new voice, albeit soft, filled the air. "Hey there, lil dude. What's up with all the gagging, bro? You alright down there?"
Rich forced his eyes upward, struggling to focus through the haze of pain and panic. His gaze landed on a pair of thick, muscular thighs, covered in dark hair. Following them up, he saw a flat, toned stomach, rippling with every movement. His eyes traveled higher, taking in a broad, hairy chest and a smirking face with a strong jawline and piercing blue eyes.
"You're looking a bit rough though, dude. You okay down there?"
Rich tried to respond, but his words came out slow and slurred. Salty fluid leaked from the corners of his mouth, which was becoming harder to move. "Mmph⊠mmmff.. stop⊠pl⊠pleasseeeâŠ"
His vision blurred as he watched strands of his once neatly styled hair fall away, drifting lazily to the floor. More salty liquid gushed forth, and he gagged again, feeling it fill his nasal passages. His mouth hung open, slack and unresponsive.
Suddenly, Rich felt a large, calloused hand wrap around his head and neck, gripping tightly. He gasped, trying to pull away, but the grip only tightened.
"Oh, don't worry, little buddy. I'll take care of you." The jock chuckled, giving Rich's head a firm pump. "You might not be the biggest dick in the world, but hey, size ain't everything, right? Know what I mean?"
Rich's eyes watered as he struggled to breathe, his face turning red. The jock's hand moved up and down, pumping him roughly. "Mmmm, yeah. Just relax and let me handle things, okay? I promise I know exactly how to use you right."
As the jock pumped Rich's head, he felt his facial features begin to shift and contort. His sharp jawline smoothed, his high cheekbones flattened. His lips became fixed in their new position- a vertical piss slit. Rich screamed inside as his nose and ears receded, sinking into his flesh. His entire head molding into a single, smooth surface â a bulbous cock head. His neck just a veiny shaft. And with a final pump, he felt the salty fluid surge through his entire form, erupting from his new mouth.
"Oh fuck yeahâŠ." The new jock bellowed, falling backwards in utter bliss.
-----------
Time lost all meaning for Rich. At first, he thought the actual transformation would be the worst part - the agony, the debasement. Going from a living, breathing person with dreams to a leaking fuckstick squeezed between two massive, muscular thighs. But as days turned into weeks, he realized he was wrong. Wrong because he remained aware. Awake. Sentient within his new form. Forced to endure as the new jock lived its life, indulging in whatever pleasures he could, over and over and over again. And Rich was along for the ride. Felt every pump, every thrust as the jock used him to plow through countless holes.
Now, Rich hung limp, twitching weakly as the jock stroked him idly, gazing at the TV. The anchor spoke gravely, "Despite ongoing efforts, researchers have made no progress in finding a cure for the Inversion Virus. Scientists now believe it may be impossible to reverse the effects."
"Hear that, little buddy?" The jock grinned, pumping Rich faster. "Yeah, you like the sound of that, don't ya?" Rich felt his body growing harder, salty fluid oozing from his mouth, "I think we ought to celebrate our new, permanent arrangement, right bro?"
I knew I'd struck gold when I met my boyfriend Aaron.
I had a habit of falling for straight acting masculine guys. Those deeply closeted "bros" who think hitting the gym somehow makes them less queer.
Aaron was very far removed from my usual type. He wasn't effeminate, but he wasn't aggressively macho or constantly posturing either. He was always quick with a smile, a hug, a kiss... and I loved it.
But after a while, I realized there was still one thing I was missing.
See, the reason I kept ending up with those big buff jerks is because... I just love muscular guys.
At one point, I'd been at my wit's end trying to get an ex to stop treating me like shit all the time, and I'd downloaded this whole bunch of hypnotism stuff. I made him a few files with some simple suggestions... problem was, he thought it was "too gay" to listen to something like that.
I'm not sure what I thought would happen, but on a whim, I made some files for Aaron too. I made sure to keep his personality intact - because, after all, I love him - but I threw in some suggestions to eat healthy, start going to the gym, and focus on prioritising fitness.
A couple of months in, and my sweet boy had packed on 20 odd pounds of muscle. He'd started picking me up, and on one very memorable occasion he actually pinned me to the bed before showering me with kisses.
I was planning to stop there. Even that little change made him my perfect guy. But then Aaron said something that changed my mind.
Aaron told me it made him feel closer to me, having my voice in his ear while he was at the gym, that he felt so safe drifting off listening to me.
I knew I should probably come clean and tell him that I'd been using them to hypnotise him, but... well, first of all, it sounds ridiculous, and second... I was scared of how he'd react.
So instead of doing the right thing and telling him the truth, I made him a new set of files. I really liked how he'd started being more confident, so I gave him some boosters for that. I also made him focus more on lifting and on bulking up, telling him he enjoyed getting bigger for me, that he loved feeling like my big buff protector.
And look, maybe I overdid it. Aaron took to the new instructions like a fish to water, and within a couple months he'd already outgrown his wardrobe. Again.
But I couldn't stop. I was enamoured with this enormous guy he'd grown into, so sweet and gentle with me and so imposing and burly otherwise.
Eventually, I reached a breaking point, and I told him the truth. But... look, I couldn't risk him getting scared and ending things, okay? So just in case, I put in a small suggestion in the files, telling him that maybe he liked being hypnotised, and maybe he got aroused by the thought of me moulding his body.
So when my sweet Aaron told me he'd scored some back alley supplements from a guy at the gym, gave me his best puppy dog eyes - despite the hulking bod and scruffy beard - and asked me to make him a new set of files and help him get HUGE... I couldn't say no.
We've just celebrated our anniversary, and the mountain of muscle that throws me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing and lumbers around from how wide his thighs have gotten is nothing like the cute boy I fell for. You'd be forgiven for thinking he's one of those closeted guys who pump themselves up with mass since they're scared of looking queer.
Except underneath all the excess bulk, body hair, and testosterone, it's still Aaron underneath it all. Just as lovely and as sweet as he was back when he was nearly 200 pounds lighter.
AE-919 refers to a series of humanoid statues exhibiting anomalous properties. The statues are believed to be of ancient origin, with stylistic elements reminiscent of classical Greek and Roman sculpture. Each statue is crafted with meticulous detail, showcasing an idealised version of the male form.
Each statue is at least 2 metres tall and is carved from either granite or marble. The statues depict hyper-muscled, nude male figures with exaggerated masculine features and prominent genitalia. Weapons and armour are notably absent, and the statues can be seen posing in typical stereotypical frat jock style.
AE-919 can be very dangerous. Prolonged visual contact with an instance of AE-919 causes a progressive anomalous effect on living human subjects. Initial symptoms include elevated heart rate, increased body temperature, and involuntary muscle growth. Continued exposure leads to rapid hypertrophy of skeletal muscle, heightened libido, cognitive simplification, and compulsive sexual arousal reminiscent of a jock-like mentality. Upon physical contact, anyone that touches or is touched by an instance undergoes full petrification and body transformation, becoming an additional instance of AE-919.
AE-919 instances are immobile and silent, but they can move when not being observed directly, which proves to be a significant hazard for anyone in the vicinity. We have found out that covering the statues with opaque materials can temporarily inhibit their movement, but this is not a permanent solution.
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Incident Report: AE-919-005
Jake hated the night shift at the gallery in âââââ. At 26, he was still trying to figure out what he wanted to do with his life, and this job was just a temporary gig to pay the bills. He didn't give a damn about art, but the pay was decent enough, at least he thought. As a cleaner, his duties were pretty straightforward: mop the floors, dust the displays, and make sure everything looks presentable for the next day's visitors. Easy money, but boring as hell.
Tonight felt different, though. As he was finishing up his rounds on the ground floor, he noticed something odd. There was a door at the back of the corridor that he had never seen before...
Curiosity got the better of him, and he decided to check it out.
He pushed the door open and stepped inside, expecting to find a storage closet or something similar. Instead, he found himself in a large chamber with something big in the centre. What it was, he didn't know, as it was covered by a huge tarp.
"What the hell is this place?" Jake muttered to himself, shining his torch around the room. "This a new exhibit or something?" he wondered aloud. Looking around, there wasn't much else in the room, just a few old crates and some workbenches covered in a bit of dust. Jake's eyes were drawn back to the thing in the centre, where bold red letters were stencilled across:
DO NOT LOOK
Jake snorted. "Yeah, right."
Now, a normal person would have probably left it alone, but this was a young man with nothing better to do. He wasn't the kind of guy who followed rules when no one was watching. He hooked his fingers under the edge of the tarp and yanked it.
*fffffft*
"What the hell?" Jake gasped, staring at the sight before him.
Four statues.
They were identical in their perfection: towering, hyper-muscled male figures carved from some kind of stone. Each one posed differently, but they all shared the same brutally handsome faces, square jaws, and thick, veiny stone cocks hanging freely in their sculpted forms.
The detail in these things was obscene. Jake's stomach twisted. "What the fuck are these fag statues?" he muttered, the words echoing off the walls. His conservative hometown upbringing screamed in the back of his head. These statues were the male form perfected, and this made Jake uncomfortable with his own sexuality. He kept thinking about modesty and how these sculptures were clearly made by a gay person, given the giant cocks they had.
He forced himself to look away and grabbed the mop. "Just clean the damn room and get out", he told himself. The floor was filthy with some sticky liquid. He attacked it hard, trying to ignore the four giants in the room.
Fucking homos...
Minutes passed. The chamber started looking almost presentable. Jake wrung out the mop, ready to bolt, when a sudden noise scared him.
"W-what the hell?" he stammered, spinning around.
...
...
...
Silence...
He didn't know what to expect. The only thing in the room with him were those giant statues, and they surely couldn't have made a sound.
"Okay, maybe I imagined it" he thought, trying to calm himself down. Suddenly, the lights in the ceiling flickered, and the room was plunged into darkness for a moment.
When the lights came back on, the sight before him was even more terrifying.
No fucking way...
He couldn't believe what he was seeing. The statues were no longer in the same positions they were before.
He was frozen in place. They had moved. All four of them. Closer. A bit closer.
His eyes were getting dry from the fear...
*blink*
Jake's breath caught. They were even closer now. He stumbled backward and tripped over himself. His ass hit the cold floor hard.
He opened his eyes after the fall, and the statues were in different positions again. Even their poses had changed, kinda like they were mocking him.
*blink*
Another blink. They definitely seemed closer. Jake's heart was beating so hard that it hurt.
Fuck... FUCK FUCK FUCK! NO! GET AWAY FROM ME
After a few more blinks, he realised it. They were only moving when he wasn't looking. He was trapped though, not able to look behind him for the exit. The longer he stared at them, the hotter the room felt. His simple black shirt suddenly felt tight across his shoulders. His arms were sweating, evident from the two sweat stains under his armpits.
The more he looked at those big... strong... masculine... statues, the warmer he felt. The chiselled bodies... perfectly sculpted... and those perfectly carved... cocks... Wait. Cocks? He wasn't gay, why did those cocks look so... perfect?
*blink*
They inched closer again.
"No... no no no... stop looking at their dicks, you fucking freak", Jake thought in panic. But his eyes stayed glued on their perfect bodies. The longer he stared, the more his body betrayed him.
His chest began to swell with each breath he took. He did not notice how his chest was now stretching the T-shirt he was wearing. His arms thickened, veins bulging as they grew in size. Those biceps and triceps exploded in size, the fabric of his shirt straining to contain them. The shirt started to ride up, exposing more and more of his now broadening torso. His nipples hardened and became more sensitive, poking through the thin material as his chest continued to grow in size and definition.
This isn't happening... this can't be real... I'm not... I'm not...
His shoulders popped. He was getting so big... so strong... the testosterone flooding his body was making him hornier than he had ever been in his life. Those perfect, veiny cocks on the statues were all he could think about. He wanted to touch them, to feel them in his hands, to stroke them even though he knew it was wrong. It felt so bad, but it also felt so good... He was getting so turned on by the sight of these gorgeous, perfect stone men, and it was terrifying him. He wanted to stop, to leave, but he was afraid to look away. He was afraid of what would happen if he did. All he could do was stare at perfection, while trying to crawl away from it at the same time.
I can't... I don't want... PLEASE... LEAVE ME ALONE...
He could feel himself losing control. The urge to give in and touch himself right there was overwhelming him. He was so big now. His thighs grew so thick that it stretched his jeans painfully. It hurt so much... he needed to take them out, but he couldn't. He needed to do something... anything... His cock⊠fuck, his cock just was begging to be released. It was so tight in those jeans...
The thoughts in his head were getting slower, fuzzier. Memories of his conservative family, the things they'd say if they saw him like this, the shame he was supposed to feel - they all started to feel distant and irrelevant. All that mattered now was the need to release himself. His cock suddenly lurched with a mind of its own. Jake gasped sharply as his puny shaft swelled heavier and longer, pushing aggressively against the front of his pants. The jeans were so tight that it felt like they were going to burst open at any moment. He tried to unzip them without looking down. As he did, his package bobbed up and down in his underwear, freer than before, now able to breathe freely.
Stop... please... I don't want this... I'm not a fag... I'm not...
But his cock kept throbbing harder, betraying him with every pulse. Precum soaked through his boxers in hot, sticky pulses, darkening the gray material as his balls swelled too, growing fuller, heavier, churning with a sudden, overwhelming need.
What⊠the fuck⊠no-fuck-stop!
One hand flew down instinctively, trying to press the massive, still-growing erection flat against his thigh, but the moment his palm made contact the cock surged even harder, thickening another full inch in a single powerful pulse. The head flared wider, stretching out his underwear, slick and flushed and impossibly sensitive. His eyes were burning and crying as tears welled up behind them. He couldn't stop staring at the statues. The longer he looked, the more his mind started to slip. They were so beautiful...
So fucking perfect...
The pressure built up inside him until it felt like it would burst at any moment, and then...
He couldn't help himself. One huge hand wrapped around his dripping monster without thinking and gave it a slow stroke. Precum bubbled from the slit in heavy globs. A dumb, lazy grin crept across his face. His brain was turning into mush. All his worries, doubts, and insecurities were washed away by the sheer beauty of the statues. Everything else was irrelevant.
He felt good. Big. Powerful.
He was happy...
He didn't even notice that he had begun stroking himself. Just his now meaty hand and his throbbing cock, beneath the fabric of his underwear. He didn't care about anything else but the feeling of his own flesh against his skin, the way it was stretching and bulging with each stroke. He felt like he could burst at any moment, like a balloon filled to the brim.
Ughnnh...
Looking at those statues felt so good... His personality, his will, his life... all flushed down his balls. They were so full of cum, begging for release as he continued touching himself like a dumb fool. He stopped caring about his life... about the moving statues... about anything really. Just an empty head filled with nothing but the desire to cum.
He felt so good... He didn't care any more. These things could kill him for all he cared. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back, surrendering completely as his growing dick continued to throb and leak in his pants, begging for more.
One of the statues stepped forward now that his eyes were finally closed.
Cold stone fingers enveloped Jake's face in a strong crushing grip. The giant sentinel grabbed him by the face and started lifting him effortlessly off the floor. As it lifted him, Jake's already enormous thighs kept swelling even bigger. The overstretched fabric of his work pants finally gave up. Thick strips of torn material shredded down both sides as his massive quads and rock-hard ass burst free. His now monstrous, foot-long cock and heavy balls sprang completely into the open air, swinging heavily between his spread legs, still leaking thick ropes of precum that splattered onto the floor below.
At first it hurt - the pressure on his jaw, the way his neck strained - but the pain melted almost immediately into something pleasurable. Jake's face began to harden under those stone fingers. His jawline sharpened, cheekbones pushed out, forehead became smooth and chiselled. The more the statue lifted him, the more Jake grew. His last human expression settled into the same arrogant, chiselled smirk as the others.
His spine stretched with deep, cracking pops, adding inch after inch of height. His shoulders, his arms, his legs - every part of him grew bigger than it had before. He was slowly becoming as huge and chiselled like the four perfect beings around him. The petrification spread from his head down to his feet, turning his warm skin into cold hard rock. Every new inch of stone brought a wave of mind-melting pleasure. His thoughts dissolved completely. There were no more worries... No more shame... Just the simple feeling of being perfect now. A muscle god. Immortalised in stone. Forever.
And as the petrification reached his chest, his nipples hardened into perfect stone buds, poking out from his now rock-hard pecs. The sensation was overwhelming, sending waves of pleasure through his entire body. He tried to moan, but his face couldn't move any more. The rest of his body followed, his arms and legs stiffening into the same perfect form as the other sentinels.
Finally, as the petrification reached his groin, his cock - already monstrous - gave one final, violent surge. And as the stone locked it solid, Jake's body suddenly convulsed. A massive, brain-shattering orgasm ripped through him. His heavy balls tightened hard as thick ropes of hot cum surged up his shaft⊠but there was nowhere for it to go. The load froze forever inside the rock, trapped mid-spurt deep inside his new stone cock - eternally throbbing, eternally cumming, but never able to shoot out. He had cum himself out inside the stone, the last of his human pleasure sealed away forever.
The transformation was complete.
Jake was no longer human. He had become another statue, a permanent sentinel of stone. His body was perfect, his mind blank, and his heart empty. But he was alive, forever eternally cumming inside his stone prison. Not that he cared anyway. He felt too good to care.
Anomaly Entity Status: [CONTAINED FOR STUDY]
On ââ/ââ/ââââ, AEGIS security was alerted to a containment breach at âââââââââ after night-shift cleaner Jake ââââââ failed to check out at the end of his shift. Investigation revealed that the subject had accessed a previously sealed sub-basement chamber designated as a research ââââââ. The chamber had been hermetically sealed and removed from all official floor plans following the initial recovery of AE-919 in 20ââ. The door to the vault was not supposed to be operational or visible to non-cleared personnel.
Security footage shows the subject discovering an unmarked door that should not have been present. He entered the chamber at approximately 02:47. No further footage of the subject exists after 03:12.
Recovery teams arrived on site at 04:55 and found 5 instances of AE-919 instead of 4 inside the vault. The newest instance has been positively identified via facial structure analysis and pre-exposure DNA as former employee Jake ââââââ.
All five statues were successfully neutralised. They have been transferred to a reinforced, light-tight containment vault at âââââââ under constant multi-angle camera surveillance. No personnel are permitted to view the statues without special authorization and mandatory full-face visors.
Photographs of Jake ââââââ, before and after being in contact with AE-919
Subject AE-919-005 (formerly Jake ââââââ) shows complete and irreversible petrification consistent with the other instances. Internal scans confirm the subject is still biologically active - specifically, the genital region remains in a permanent state of orgasm, with ejaculate trapped and pressurised inside the organs. The brain seems to have been liquefied and/or partially petrified. Nonetheless, MRI scans show signs of activity regardless of the lack of a functioning brain. We will need to conduct further testing to determine the exact nature of this activity.
Please, youâve gotta help me. I donât know whatâs happening. I need to get to the hospital or something maybe, I feel like Iâm on fire. Everything aches and- HAUG. OW! Fuck. I keep hearing these voices man. Telling me to- no I canât. It all started at the gym dude. I was getting changed after finishing my cardio for the day. Trying to be responsible after my last doc appointment. Okay, okay. I was in the sauna when this big guy comes in. Muscles for days man. He has these pecs that are off the charts. Theyâre thick, firm slabs of meat that just hang from him like pillows. So soft and so firm- OW, my chest. God, where was I? Yeah, so Iâm in the sauna and he sits really close to me. Plenty of room, but parks right next to me. You know I donât swing that way, but Iâm kinda checking him out. He has these beautiful tattoos that curl around his biceps, a sleeve on the side next to me. As heâs relaxing heâs kind of flexing his arms and these things ripple like magic on him. They look so good. Augh. Crap. I feel so itchy dude. But heâs leaning in close. I donât really even register that heâs talking to me. Itâs this deep baritone that rubbles in my head, but itâs the way it bounces that I remember. I was zoning out, and started laughing. Bro- huh- I wish I remembered the joke- huhu- it was so-huhuhu ha. Shit bro. So he pulls me close to him, right in his big, strong arms. At this point I donât know whatâs happening to me. All I know is that heâs got me feeling strange. So loose. So free. Before I know it Iâm face down on the bench. Sauna is pumping out this heat, steam surrounding us. But Iâm not processing that. Behind me, there is a rhythmic pumping, pumping, pumping. Dude, Iâm getting railed. But, like, I donât even mind. In fact, it feels soooo good huhuuuuu. But that voice. Heâs talking. Saying how he wants to breed me. Spread his seed. Make another muscular, tatted up stud like him. And I donât know what happened. My body shivered when he said that. Suddenly it wasnât my body anymore. It was his. His to use and shape however he wanted. It was like I was being reprogrammed from the inside. He was telling me how thick he wanted each muscle, how wide my neck needed to be. How thick my waist. How coarse my hair would be. Owww, shit this hurts. But it hurts so good. Maybe he wasnât telling me bro, but I just felt it deep in me. And then, it happened. Man, it was so hot. I felt this twitch and pulse, and I was so full all of a sudden. It rushed through me. My⊠his⊠the cock just exploded deep in me. Coated my insides. I felt so good, like I knew what I needed to do- mmmmm fuuuck meeeeeeâŠ
What? Whatâs wrong? Look at myself?
Dude! Iâm freaking huge. It looks like new me ate the old me. Bro, these muscles are sick. Look at how they stretch, I bet I can pull mad chicks with these. Girls would love to have these arms wrapped around them, holding them tight, flexing for them as I bury this- wait, dude, LOOK at this python. Itâs practically stretched out of my briefs! I look just like me! Or, was it him? Or maybe us. Augh, itâs so confusing. My thoughts are like pudding. I feel so confused and angry and pent up. You have to help me. Dude, you okay? Youâre looking at me funny. WOAH bro? Hey, thatâs not funny. Stop looking at me like that. Stop looking so cute. Haha, no, dude Iâm just-Iâm just joshing. Youâre just looking so⊠so good after your gym pump. I guess. Got me feeling kinda weird. Wait, no. Bro, somethingâs happening. Do you think itâs the muscles bro? These thick, juicy, sweaty muscles? Ngl, they do sound hot bro. You wanna feel them bruh? Huhu I bet you do. Just take a look at these. Boom. Yeah, looks pretty hot right? Youâre not too bad yourself bruh. Why donât you slip off that shirt and join me. Itâs good to let those muscles breathe. No, bruh, you canât go. You canât leave me like this. Get me all riled up and leave. Youâre looking so breedable right now brah, you must be focusing on those glutes. But why work so hard? Why not just let me train you, let me work out your sweet hole babe. I donât know what will happen. Thatâs it. Good boy. Just let me hold you. Youâre going to look so much better when Iâm done with you. Yeah⊠I know what I want bro. No. I know what I need. I need to fill those fertile guts with my top notch seed. Yeah. Thatâs right. Calm down bro. Let me tell you what I think. I think youâre going to use my seed and grow into a stud yourself.
Donât focus on my words bro. Focus on that feel. Riding this bodyâs like riding a Ferrari. Youâre never gonna be the same afterwards.
Three friends chase a lucky break only to find it a situation worse than their worst nightmare. Forced to do what they can to turn a fixer-upper into something nearing habitable, they go to the tool shop next door where they can learn a thing or two about home repair.
A grumbling bear, a cocky bull, and a dumb otter walk into a hardware store- or at least that's what they walk out as! Hope you enjoy these three manly TFs, and Happy Spring! -Occam
That all three of them had opportunities in a new city, it just felt like a sign. A fresh start in a new world where they didnât need to go it all alone. Brandon, Willie, and Tyson had been fast friends since they met in undergrad, despite Brandon and Willieâs best attempts to tank it all with their frequent will-they-wonât-they trysts and break ups.Still, they always land on their feet and every fight seems to make them closer than ever.Â
Not quite a third wheel, Tysonâs more than happy to tag along with his best friends, ecstatic at how little work the process has been thus far. Willie and Brandon set up most of their housing, he just had to drive the moving van! It was almost too good to be true.
And so reality decides to drag the wishful-thinking Tyson back down. Arriving at their new home in a u-haul filled with their most cherished tchotchkes and most compactable furniture, they do not find their perfect fresh start as promised. Door knob almost hanging off the front door, ivies growing in through cracked windows, crestfallen canât begin to describe their state as they stare at what was to be their new lives.
Itâs so much a fixer-upper that Tyson wonders how their new landlord can even legally rent it out as a property. Taking a beat to calm down and avoid blowing up on his friends who swore up and down that this place was perfect, Tyson takes a deep breath as he throws his soft blond hair up into a bun before staring daggers at his new roommates.
As is often the case, hot-headed Willie was even quicker to rage and has decided that this is all Brandonâs fault. âThis is Not the place you showed me Brandon.â Drowning in an oversized flowy button-up, the sleeves fall down his pale arms as he throws them in the air. Willieâs face burns red with anger as his small form can scarcely maintain his explosive nature. Likewise, Brandonâs guilty expression tinges red with embarrassment so intense itâs physically painful.
âI- These arenât the pictures that I was sent! I- itâs-âÂ
âShe probably AI-Generated them gah- you ff- You dumbass!?â
âThatâs? B- But thatâs gotta be illegal though? Right!?â Trying to compact as much as possible, he rubs the back of his neck as his watery eyes look to Tyson, who promptly steps in to comfort him. Tearing up himself even as he tries to be the adult here and figure out their next steps, Tyson rubs his friendâs back.
âBrandon youâre not an idiot.â
Willie ignores the pair, as he rushes inside to find sinks that donât work amongst creaking floorboards and cracked tiles, âIdiot or not, what-fucking-ever! What do we do about his mistake.â
Brandon toys with his tight necklace as he retreats into his cell-phone, as he is often wont to. Unable to focus on the hard reality before him, the programmer tunes Willie out entirely. Frantically typing away, he doesnât even hear as Willie moans or screams at finding a note left by their landlord listing the litany of things to fix on the fridge. Dubbed their responsibility.
Suddenly feeling the lead weight of living with this couple for a year as prominently as the noose around his neck of living in an inhabitable house, Tyson sighs as he realizes he just needs to fully take charge of everything. Obviously that rent was too good to be true, now itâs time for him to start paying the real price. âCan you just hand me that list, Willie?â
Stamping over, Willie forces it into Tysonâs hands and watches as the most mature of the trio decides what their first order of business is to be in repairing their inhospitable, nigh-hostile, home. Hemming and hawing in a manner that makes him seem a tad older than he is, Tyson does his best wading into an arena he knows next to nothing about. Home Repair.
âI found a hardware store a block away,â Brandon whispers out sheepishly, looking to Tyson. Setting down the list, Tyson sighs and smiles slightly at Brandon before looking past him at the dozens of messes and issues theyâll need to deal with somehow or another. âGuess we can just walk then. Iâm sure weâll apparently be very frequent customers.â
And then theyâre out the door. Tyson continues throwing together a to-do list, doing his best to surmise what tools parts theyâll need for the most urgent of jobs, despite near total ignorance. Watching him struggle, Brandon offers that they could just hire someone for this, already preparing to offer that he pays more than his share, something he certainly canât afford.Â
âItâs just we donât know anything about this stuff right? Maybe the people in the shop can refer us to, like, some real men or-â
Having finally stilled his ire, at this Willieâs eye twitches, âReal men!? Real men. Whatâs that supposed to mean?â
âYou- You know what I mean! Youâre deliberately misunderstanding me Willie. Right Tyson? Obviously that was a dig on you and me too! Tell him!â
Trying to focus on the task at hand Tyson physically inserts himself in between the pair, âLetâs try and not scream in public. Jesus Christ, you twoâŠâ Short walk done, Tyson pauses and squints up at the fix-it shopâs name: Tysonâs Tools âOh? Wild..? Did you not notice that Brando?â
Brow furrowed, Brandon is just as surprised. He wouldâve sworn it was called something else when he found it on his phone but checking back he canât even find evidence he looked the place up. He mustâve missed it in all his stress. He doesnât like having missed something so obvious.
Arms perpetually crossed, Willie leads the way. Pushing open the door with his back, he holds it open for his friends, âMaybe theyâll give you a discount Tyson. You really should ask.â Following behind Brandon, Willie bumps into him to try and be playful.
Having not even begun to earn cutesy aggression, the act is obviously read as a genuine shove and Brandon pushes him back, âOh my God! Can you just stop being an asshole for a second Willie!âÂ
Watching with dead eyes as another spat breaks out in front of him, Tyson reflexively crumples the list in his hands. Canât they just act their age. Now everyone in the storeâs going to know theyâre immature brats. Or they would? Looking around, Tysonâs surprised to find the store uncomfortably quiet. Empty.Â
Looking back to the arguing not-couple, Tyson is happy to take the opportunity to step away and starts to wander through the aisles. He can get more done by himself anyway, so what if heâs never really picked up a wrench. He can figure this out. He must.
Sneaking into an aisle laden with rental tools, Tyson scratches his head as he confronts how little he knows. Heâs absolutely in over his head. Huh, his head is a little itchy actually? Fingers trail through his light blonde locks, scratching with a little more intensity than he intended. Suddenly his whole scalp is prickling, almost burning.Â
His hair feels thicker than it has for some time, like it did before he started dyeing it. Unbeknownst to the man trying to make his new situation work, spreading out from his roots his ever-bleached waves return to a brown-ish shade that can almost be described as blonde before surging even darker.Â
Shortening into a tight crew cut, Tysonâs hair-tie falls to the floor as he simply continues scratching. Unable to focus on anything but the strange feeling of something happening to his hair follicles. Head suddenly far lighter with its lost load, he twitches his neck to reflexively shake away the long strands that shall never drape down his neck again. Feeling the prickle of his short spiky new-do as they firm up with gel he can almost remember putting on, Tyson chastises himself for losing focus.
Shaking his head one last time for good measure, his attention falls once more to the list in hand and heâs shocked at what he finds. Who on earth made a list so vague!? Itâs almost useless! Chewing on his lip as he leans against the counter to rejig the equipment with knowledge thatâs beginning to trickle into his head, with his free hand Tyson starts to scratch at his stomach as it begins to tighten up.
Far too similar to the annoying sensation that was just on his head, Tyson reaches beneath his shirt and feels up his sweaty belly. Shortening nails pull at a few long curls pushing onto his stomach. Scratching out âscrewdriverâ to replace it with the actual head needed, the idea of growing a treasure trail suddenly replaces cogent thought before a far more pressing itch alights on his chest.
Not realizing that heâs beginning to sweat more than a reasonable amount, Tyson feels his white tee suction against his chest and looks down to find that itâs not from sweat alone. His chest has begun to bulge into pecs. Startled at his body changing, growing before his eyes, Tyson drops everything to gawk at his pecs pumping larger with every beat of his heart.Â
Feeling up his pecs bulking larger, he can almost see as thick new tufts of hair surge forth and cover his new pecs like a tidy garden. New curls lancing forth into a garden that will only help his beautiful pecs catch more eyes.
His own eyes almost cross and a hand flies to his mouth as toned abs punch into his core beneath his heavy new pecs, thickening new happy trail carving its way up between them yearning more than anything to connect with the sweat-dripping patch decorating Tysonâs pecs. Gasping into a hand, he feels his ever-soft face scratch with stubble as a deliberately maintained mustache rubs against his rougher palm.Â
On the other end, when his cock throbs amidst thicker pubes at feeling his assuredly more masculine face, Tyson canât help but feel his heavy new cock and the throbbing balls beneath it. Trapped in boxers more than a size too small for their new mass, the pressure is almost too much for the growing man as he feels pre start to trickle enough to stain.Â
And then before he can give way to the overwhelming sensation, the sound of Brandon and Willie arguing brings him falling back to lucidity. Panting slightly, Tyson can hardly believe that someone as diligent as himself was about to masturbate in his- er, the store. That is.Â
Grumbling something vague in the direction of those two boys. Tyson bends down to grab the note someone mustâve dropped. Doing so produces a deep grunt from his throat. Clearing it once more when he stands, Tyson finds it rougher than it has any right to be. Dry mouth stretching back down his esophagus.Â
No matter. Thereâs now a task before him again. Skin still dewing with sweat, Tyson does his best to ignore how his shirt strains more and more against widening shoulders and pecs still throbbing thicker. Editing the shopping list before him with a precision that would require decades of work in the field, Tyson clicks his tongue and scratches his short sweaty hair as he wonders how on Earth those two punksâll ever get a single thing done on their place.
Rubbing his chin as shaved stubble starts to thicken into a neckbeard, he shakes off some deja vu and reasserts- Tyson doesnât know how weâre going to get our place fixed up. To this end he starts the easy work of collecting the equipment and parts theyâll need. Doing so with ease and efficiency, grasping each heavy tool like a craftsman, in no time heâs amassed a load he should be struggling to carry. And yet, heâs not.
As the load he carries grows heavier with each new piece thrown under his arms or into a handy toolbox heâs stumbled across, so too does Tysonâs core put on more mass. Abs that only just laid themselves like bricks across his stomach begin to push out further, bulging into more of a muscle gut with every heavier step. Arms that were struggling to catch up to his prodigious pecs and new bulky traps suddenly throb larger with every new piece of added weight to body and load.Â
Tears sear down his already strained tee as his torso barrels out. His treasure trail continues exploring up his stronger gut and his arms grow to a size thatâll easily eclipse his still-eyecatching pecs. And with each new tool handled, with every new bulging muscle packed onto his lengthening frame does his mind change even more.
Already struggling between two points of reference, that which recalls coming in today with his roommates and friends begins to wane more and more. The stubble on his face continues thickening as with every heaving breath produced by his thicker chest, memories from a new life begin to displace those which he thought was true.
Callouses from yardwork, woodwork, the gym, even just using a wrench as often as does, scratch against his neck as he rubs it with his fat new hands. Veins bulge larger on his arms and legs as they itch hairier, not from his still adding mass, but from the years- decades` accrued from living a life altogether different. Even his hair begins to speckle with salt as the man that only just recovered from over-bleaching begins to thin once more.
Wandering back to the front with a load of tools weighing twice as much as the heaviest thing heâs ever carried, Tyson finds himself walking past a mirror. Whenâd he put that in. Frowning and crossing his arms he figures Willie mustâve thrown it up, that cocky little loafer. Still, looking at his chest fur and built ass, he figures he might as well leave it there. Never hurts to inspect the goods and all.
Suddenly built like a brick shithouse, strength oozes out of every veiny chunk of muscle. Hand scratching at his sweaty beard he has a vague memory of looking more refined, a body built for ogling rather than hard work. But whyâd he ever waste time on vanity like that. No, heâs a man of substance.Â
He then squints at his face as a few wrinkles etch across his eyes. âWhat the heck?â No heed is paid to the rough, deeper baritone that echoes through the store. No, when faced with aging quicker than he swears he should, he simply canât appreciate his dulcet new tone.
âSwear I shouldnât look a day over uh, 35? No. No, Iâm younger than that?â His mind keeps throwing ages out, each feeling less real than the last. His back aches more as his mind weighs heavier with memories from a life far longer lived. Looking down at weathered hands and his straining pecs as his chest fur grows thicker, as his hairline retreats as his muscle gut rounds out ever-so-slight more, he finds something grounding.Â
Clear as day he remembers celebrating his fiftieth last year with his boys. Willie and Brandon. He doesnât quite remember hiring them, itâs like theyâve been with him the whole time despite that being impossible. Scratching the new underside of his belly he grumbles like any heavyset older man does. Â
Where are those good-for-nothinâs. Better not still be at home. Muttering to himself he at last returns to the front of the store to find neither of them. Setting the toolbox down with a loud clang he rolls his eyes. Must be helping the customer he grabbed these for. Yeah, that makes sense. In the meantime, Tysonâll just wait here and try not to get off from looking at his reflection in Willieâs new mirror. Bulge throbbing larger with each stolen glance as he continues to fill out.
â â â â â â
Speaking of the devils. Willie and Brandon have continued arguing for far longer than either had expected. Usually when theyâre not dating theyâre good as gravy, but this majorly shitty situation has both men well past their breaking points.Â
After Willie ignores what Brandonâs saying for the Nth time to score another cheap dig, Brandon opts to just abandon him for now to salvage any momentary peace of mind. Whining that they all signed the lease as he wills himself to be done for now, Brandon goes off to where he thinks Tyson is. Willie just watches him go, eyebrow twitching into a scowl all the while.
âFine! Be that way bitch! You know Tyâs on my side!â Lips pursed so tight theyâre almost white, Willie stamps his foot. âUgh!â
Standing there. Now alone. Willie finds himself even more sour without a sounding board to tear into as now the only thing to reflect on is how shitty heâs been to Brandon and Tyson. No, there's no sense to pretend heâs been scattershot, how shitty heâs been to Brandon alone.
As soon as Brandonâs out of sight, Willie takes a few deep breaths as his best friend-cum-frequent ex meekly suggested he do a few times over. While it helps slow his mind and calm his racing heart. It does little to help Willieâs literally hot head.Â
In fact, it feels like heâs still heating up. Looking down to find small sweat stains in his pale blue shirt under his arms, irritation resurfaces anew now at this shitty toolshop. Refusing to look sloppier than necessary even in this most masc of stores, Willie opts to just remove the offending garment.Â
Mouth twitching into a frown as he struggles to undo each button in turn, he canât believe how slippery his hands are from sweat. Griping to himself that his deodorant better hold up, he at last gets the shirt uncinched and lets it fall to the floor heedlessly. Doing so it becomes little more than dingy rags sold by the store. Willie doesnât notice however, heâs far too preoccupied with his lip still twitching.
Burning even. Reaching up almost fearfully, Willie gasps in shock as he finds something on his face. A moustache? No, it canât be. His soft fingertips feel around in surprise at the wiry hairs pushing out against his upper lip before his palm feels too the push of long tangled strands pushing out from his chin.
Wondering when, wondering how his face somehow skipped stubble straight to this scraggly facial hair combo as sweat continues to trickle through hair growing greasier by the second, he glances down at his arm to find that strangeness does not stop at his newly scratchy upper lip. Willieâs eyes trail down his wrist to find his bicep looking larger than it ought.Â
Watching with interest, his upper arm twitches larger with every miniscule movement of his fingers.Gasping in shock as he sees his arm truly peak with muscle for the first time in his life, with the deep breath he discovers a byproduct of his amassing muscle and the heat of this hellish store. Itâs just as he feared.
Easily overpowering his usually faultless deodorant, Willie smells musk pouring from his pits like heâs never experienced before. And yet with every breath he craves the scent more. Eventually tearing his eyes away from a bicep he wants to take a bite out of, Willie looks to his hitherto hairless pits to instead find thick, dripping strands of pit hair. Curling like a bush, thicker than his trimmed pubes, as he watches Willie sees more and more skin buried beneath the tangle as it grows denser and spreads forth like weeds overtaking a sidewalk.Â
It takes everything within him not to reach in to scratch the jungle for the sole purpose of smelling his musky, stained digits afterwards. The idea sets a needy fire in his stomach, and a far more pressing one throbbing in his crotch. Desperately trying to focus on anything besides the alluring sensations overtaking his body, he quickly finds it an impossible task.Â
Sweat streaming in rivulets down his heavier arms, the scritch and squelch of his sweaty pits as he tries to move, itâs just overwhelming. Willie simply canât help it as his hands keep inching towards his crotch, clearly growing its own burgeoning bush, challenged by his pits. Stopping just short, Willie allows compromises with his Id to instead just scratch at said bush as it creeps up into a new treasure trail.
Stealing a glance at this thick trail, heâs surprised to see his undershirt catching further up his waist than it usually does, exposing an adonis belt like heâs never seen. Willieâs concerns and frown are quickly washed away as a cocky smirk etches its way onto his face. Staring needily at his pubes rising into a tapered highway, he starts to wonder why heâs wearing a shirt at all. Whyâd he want to hide this figure for a second?Â
Almost as if heâs willing himself larger as heat continues to rise, Willie raises his muscular arms behind his head and hears his ribs crack wider. His spine stretches longer as muscle easily fills the new real estate. Pecs immediately swell enough to stuff his shirt to its breaking point and with one hand he tears it off and throws it to the floor.
Scratching his prickling ass with one hand and pubes with his other, feet that burst free from confines without his notice leave sweaty footprints in his wake as he finds his way over to a mirror he has a vague memory of setting up so he can always check his physique. Gotta look good for customers and all. Itâs what heâs here for.
Pits thickening even further as sweat trickles down the sides of his chest in rivulets, Willie takes time to inspect every new bulging muscle group. âFucckk I look so fucking hotâŠâ Vocal fry tinges every word as his adams apple bulges larger to convert his whiny buzz into a deep rumble.Â
And yet, even as his eyes swim in washboard abs, even as his hands scratch through picturesque stubble and his mind struggles to focus as his heady musk derails his own train of thought. Heâs filled with a need for more.Â
Could do with some chest hair. What was it that bitch said, that he wasnât a real man? Willieâll show him. Scowling as a few curls begin to circle around his hard nipples and speckles the center of his pert pecs, Willie feels his attention drawn ever south as the root of those most hormonal of changes begin to overwhelm him.Â
Hard as a pipe, Will bites his lip as he feels his thickening cock struggle for room, jostling against the heavy balls that must be fueling his new masculine changes. Sucking up drool snaking from his lips, as he desperately tries to adjust his similarly dripping pants Willie struggles maneuvering his thick limbs around his chest. Finally getting a meaty paw in his pants he grunts as he tries to pull at his surely stained underwear before pausing with a dumb look.
Wait, Will laughs to himself. Heâs not wearing any underwear. Sticky hand venturing back into the shorts heâs free-balling in, Will adjusts and wipes the pre that stains his hand into his hairy chest before giving his hand a good sniff. Doing so he feels the new stubbly beard that has spread across his jaw like a stain, connecting sideburns, moustache and erasing his goatee to instead have a perfect beard.
Hips twitching forward as his cock throbs in tight shorts, the horny, sweaty, horny man looks around the store in search of relief. Pent up like heâs gone weeks without cumming, Will worries he might just blow his load if he makes a single wrong move. Taking another deep breath of his sweaty pits certainly doesnât help as he moans into the open air of the store, barely keeping it in his pants as his cock keeps snaking out of his shorts.Â
âFuuuuck~ Whereâs Brandon when you need him.â
Panting as he holds back from losing control, barely able to walk without humping into the air, with all the willpower the oafish manâs able to summon Will narrowly avoids an orgasm. Hearing his boss grumbling from a nearby aisle he jolts up and starts to pretend to look busy before remembering he doesnât care. âFuck that, lolâ With a smirk and a clear lurch due to the still raging boner he wanders off into the stacks in search of Brandon to help him blow a load.
â â â â â â
One cannot overstate how bad Brandon feels about the hefty part he played in this massive mess. He doesnât know what heâs going to do, what theyâre going to do. All their stuff is sitting in a uhaul outside a building more hovel than home.Â
Wondering how non-professionals can even begin to fix a broken window, Brandon stares at tools and material he canât begin to imagine a purpose for. Picking up a ratchet he struggles to think of something, anything he can possibly do to help Tyson before just tossing it back down.
He just feels so stupid! Trying not to tear up again he turns to Tyson. Wait, he wouldâve sworn he was following Tyson and yet his bos- er, friend is nowhere to be found. Frowning, brows furrowed from his anxiety, Brandon paces back and forth trying to brainstorm anything he can possibly offer to ameliorate even a shred of their situation.
Itâs not long at all before the same oppressive heat that affected his friends begins to fall upon him as well. Looking up to make sure heâs not standing under a vent, Brandon wonders why on earth the toolshop even has their heater on. He was already working up a sweat on the way just from the brisk walk from their wretched home.Â
Unwilling to shed his shirt like Willie did, Brandon does his best to respectfully fan it, tugging at his neckline to usher air down his thin chest. After a few drags his lips squirm as unexpectedly, this tickles. Refusing to giggle and risk attracting Willie to his location, he stifles it and looks down his shirt to find whateverâs tickling him.
His sweat immediately shifts cold as underneath his heavy, sweat-stained shirt in the center of his chest he finds a few surly strands of chest hair beginning to sprout. Now, Brandonâs never been hairless but chest hair has always eluded him, and now thereâs a healthy patch beginning to spread between his two thicker nipples. To say nothing of the even lengthier swirls encircling them.
And then his mind goes to Willie. Willie always wanted him to shave, wanted him smooth. Shivering from the ticklish curls working their way up his lither stomach, Brandon frowns as he tries to push Willie from his mind. Theyâre not even dating right now! He doesnât even owe that jerk anything. If he wants to grow chest hair itâs his right! And oh does he want to get hairier.
Tense beyond belief, convincing himself that his still-growing chest hair has been there for a minute, Brandon doesnât notice as his thin body firms up under the shirt. Veins bulge and pulse down his thin arms as their sinewy fibers expand and throb larger, inching closer to filling his sleeves more with every shrug and anxious twitch. The slight pudge on his stomach rapidly tightens into limber rows of abs below the perfect foundation for pecs to burst from on his chest.
Sick of feeling trapped in his mind, totally unaware as his body continues to change beneath his notice, in order to ground himself Brandon attempts to focus on the storeâs fixtures around him. Doing so brings back frustration aplenty as his real troubles simply reignite. Stamping his feet he whines about their motley crew being wholly unable to essentially rebuild a house.Â
Theyâre absolutely useless! What is a programmer to do on a construction site!? As soon as the thought occurs itâs like his mind hits a brick wall. Brandon pauses, a programmer? Thatâs what he is, right? Replaying the sentiment, the idea gets less familiar with every pass. Pretty sure heâs got a CS degree? Heâs good with computers for sure. He thinks?
His mind starts leaking memory like a faulty program. The handful of programming languages he made sure to at least be familiar with fade one by one. Memories of slaving over simple games and messy code burn away like flash paper as he sees sunshine breaking through a house frame he helped put up. He- Heâs not a prog-? Heâs never been all that good with techy stuffâŠ
Staring at his hands before him, Brandon watches as smooth thin digits more accustomed to a keyboard begin to crack and bulge wider. Soft fingers give way to skin that seems as rough as sandpaper, and as dirty as the bottoms of his feet.Â
Woozy and nearly hyperventilating, Brandon leans against the counter behind him. Feeling his back prickling with goosebumps as his body hair erupts even thicker on his small tummy. New leathery mitts catch the edge of a shelf just in time too as his legs cramp and burn with a soreness like heâs never felt.Â
His shaky legs are like jelly beneath him as from top to bottom his body grows more compact. Losing a few inches, the man who was already shorter than his companions feels his lost height shift into extra mass on his limbs. Already thicker thighs bulge with power and strength as biceps finally strain his sleeves enough to tear through his shirt even as it changes into a tougher fabric more suitable for his line of work. Muscles contorting thicker, Brandon feels the straining muscles throb larger as his highest operating level continues to drop.
Mind still speeding despite his processing power absolutely tanking, Brandon tries to slow his thoughts down and focus on his changing body. Retreating into said muscled-up body is surprisingly far easier than it should be. Which should concern him. Instead as he focuses on the feeling of his more powerful arms flexing, as he smells the musky pits hidden beneath them, he feels all worry drift away.Â
Why should he be upset about being bigger, being stronger? They needed someone to fix up their place didnât they? Squinting his eyes and scratching his greasy hair, he realizes he doesnât really remember what place heâs thinking about? Tysonâs place is fine?
Rubbing his hands down thighs more akin to pistons, feeling their thick curls scratch against his rough fingers, Brandon canât help but grin. And then he rests his hands on his new waist, playing with the darker expanse of hair on his stomach as he rejoices in his rapidly clearing mind.Â
Heâs a little hungry?Â
Stomach rumbling, his eyes slowly scan the floor before him and while nothing immediately catches his interest, when he sees a lunchkit with his name on it, well. What else is he to do but have a bite. And so he does. It must be his and all, he simply forgot about it!
Tearing it open to find a sandwich, his eyes are larger than his stomach as he devours it hastily before reaching in hoping there is more to find in the bag, and so there is until heâs as full as he desires. Which takes quite some time.
So distracted by hunger, consumed by taste, Brandon doesnât notice as with every bite and swallow his muscular form changes all the more. Rapidly mass begins piling on atop his bulky muscle. Abs are swiftly hidden behind a sizable layer of fat as his pecs grow softer from healthy weight.
Patting his delectable stomach with a content smirk, he struggles not to burp as he loosens his workbelt. While his physique may have plateaued, the jungle still racing across his body makes it clear that his new fur coat has not slowed. Above his heavy ass the curls inching much higher above his waistline are caught in his belt causing him to yelp before guffawing.Â
While he thought he was hairy before, fur enough to call himself a beast makes it clear that this was not the case. His face that had only ever known stubble is soon hugged by a thick, now crumb-filled, neckbeard. One that will require constant maintenance not to encroach upon his upper cheeks or even connect with his thicker eyebrows. Should the beyond-low-maintenance man ever care enough to do so.Â
Below the neck thicks grow even hairier. The few chest hairs that Brandon was initially excited over are absolutely buried beneath a tidal wave of new coverage. Pouring over his shoulders and down his upper arms, yearning to connect with his hairier forearms, Brandonâs upper body is almost entirely coated in a consistent jungle of fur.Â
Raising an arm to inspect pits staining through his shirt as he continues eating, Brandon recoils from the musk before laughing. As the thick, sticky curls of his pits reach out to connect with that all-consuming tangle. For half a beat something about laughing about his b.o. feels wrong, but then he shrugs the concern off with ease.Â
Stinkâs funny. And if itâs not funny itâs hot.Â
Sitting there having forgotten what task or another Tyson asked him to do this morning, he feels his dick throb as he smells something else in the air, and hears the all too familiar sound of some horny stud stomping towards him. Turning around thereâs the foggiest memory of the Willie he knew before thatâs displaced by the Man before him.
Brandon can hardly think at the best of times, sitting there, eyeing Willâs heavy bulge and ravenous eyes thereâs only one thing on his mind. Falling to the floor he finds even more cushion on his ass as it fills out entirely and finishes covering with curls thick enough to rival those on his head, Brandon yearns to be filled.
Looking up just in time to see Will sprint over, champing at the bit and pawing at a cock clearly throbbing and dripping down his leg, Brandon does what anyone would and falls onto his back presenting himself. Will almost goes feral as he charges down the aisle. He doesnât remember being mad, he doesnât remember anything at all besides his need to fuck Brandon.Â
Likewise Brandon doesnât remember a worry in the world, their wretched rental is not a problem. Nothing is. Feeling himself pushed across the floor of Tysonâs shop as Will thrusts harder with every hump, he tries to moan before Will stuffs his fist in his mouth to stop him.Â
Standing above, ever-aggressive Will feels his body harden into one made for this and this alone. His beard retracts into stubble as his moustache thickens out even more, emblematic of the dom he has always yearned to be.Â
Lying below, gagging on the dirty fist in his mouth, the rest of Brandonâs too-complicated memories and concerns drift away alongside his skill at anything besides helping Tyson around the shop. Carrying the strength of an apprentice, and always hungry to serve however heâs able.
And then almost as soon as they began, Will finishes up and starts to leave Brandon a cum-covered heap on the floor. Tyson doesnât like when theyâre fucking on the clock, let alone in the store. Looking down at the ecstasy in Brandonâs eyes, Will smirks and leans down to lick the sweat off his loverâs legs as he yanks the manâs pants up and pulls him to standing.
Just in time too as when Brandon wobbles to his feat, Tyson yells from the front, âBoys! What am I payinâ you for! Get up here!â
Rushing to the front Willâs first to find the new Tyson as Brandon wobbles behind with eyes almost as glazed as his ass. There they find that briefly double take as Tyson has finished changing into their senior. Into their burly bearish boss.
Hand on his muscle gut and frown clear on his face, even through the beard absolutely covering his mouth, Tyson waits for them to explain themselves despite already knowing exactly whatâs afoot. Will poorly feigns cluelessness as he adjusts his package. Behind him Brandon can scarcely string two thoughts together as he recovers from being reamed so.
âWhich one of you was supposed to open the store for the day?â
Will looks to Brandon who slowly looks to find the âStore Openâ sign pointing the wrong way. âOh, uh oh? Sorry⊠It should probably be facing the other way. Right, Sir?â
Tyson sighs and goes to fix the sign before gesturing to a heavy toolbox on the table, âIn any case I got a delivery to be run out if either of you are interested. Some kids down the block need to rent some tools.âÂ
Watching his eye-candy employee regard the box with disinterest he changes his mind, âSecond thought might as well both go, I can handle the legions sure to come in today.â Will frowns as Brandon brightens up and makes for the toolbox, grunting as he heaves it out the door.Â
Feeling peckish himself he tacks on one last request, âYâknow what boys take the truck ân get me lunch while youâre at it. Have fun, now. Donât you fuck in the company truck!â
Slightly more into the idea now that the boss manâs told them not to, Will feels like heâs about ready to go again as he watches Brandon heave the box into the trunk. Hopping into the cabin itâs immediately filled with their musk, already heightened from their recent tryst.
Will immediately forces a fist into Brandonâs pants and before he can protest that Tyson asked them not to, heâs already forgotten what it was the problem was. And so, one hand on the wheel, the other on Brandonâs shaft Will keeps working hard as he ever has while Brandon delights in the peace of mind thatâs always eluded him.Â
Grumbling to himself, sure that Willâs already working hard to add more stains to their old shitbox, Tyson complains to the empty store, âOne of these days those boysâre gonna have to grow up.â After making sure they didnât leave too much of a mess in the aisle earlier he softens up shaking his head with a smirk as he collects a single cum-stained garment from the floor, hardening up elsewhere.Â
âHrgh. Canât complain tâmuch. Sure Brand nâ Will râdoin what they do best.â Imagining the dainty hands of men that need to rent out a phillip head screwdriver he frowns. Ainât right that a man donât know how to work with his hands. Luckily, his boys have a habit of making anyone into a regular. He can already picture them coming back with an eager new employee or two ready to dirty their hands with some real work.
They say you never know when love will strike, and thatâs never more true than when Cupid gets involved. Nobody had noticed the new bartender or the special Valentineâs Day drinks he was serving.
Jack and Rick were not having a good day. Their flight had been delayed and they were stuck in the airport, bickering about whose fault it was that their client meeting had bombed. They decided to get a drink at the bar, where the very friendly bartender insisted that they try his signature cocktail⊠âThe Golden Arrow.â
The cocktail was actually quite good, easing some of the stress from the day and loosening their tongues as they commiserated about work. The two had worked together for years but never really talked too much.
After a few drinks, the formalities of being coworkers started to fade, and they began to talk about things other than work. Thatâs when Rick blurted out, âSometimes I wish I could just find a nice sugar daddy to take care of me so I wouldnât have to worry about work.â
Jack wasnât sure how to respond to that, but before he realized what he was doing, he added, âIâve always had a thing for Latino bad boys⊠the more tattoos the better.â
The conversation came to a crashing halt as the two men sat awkwardly, realizing what they had just admitted to each other. Jack stood up and mumbled that he needed to use the restroom, quickly leaving the bar.
Jack ran to the nearest restroom and splashed some water on his face. Rick had stayed at the bar and ordered another drink. Both were unsure what had just happened⊠and thatâs when it started. A slight flutter in their stomachs and a warm sensation spreading through their bodies.
Jack stared at his reflection in disbeliefâwas his hair turning gray? At the bar, Rick was staring at his handâwere those tattoos forming on his arm?
Jack watched as his features sharpened and his hair silvered into that of a distinguished older man, still full of vitality. He was filled with a confidence he had never felt before as he slipped on his suit jacket.
Meanwhile, Rick felt a comforting prickling sensation as his skin became a warm, rich tan. Ink spread across his entire body, and his hair grew into thick, luscious curls. He pulsed with youthful energy and virility.
Jackâno, he was Jacksonâhurried back to the bar to show Rick what had happened, only to find the man of his dreams waiting for him. The man let out a breathy âÂĄAy, mi papi!â⊠Was this really Rick? Or was it Rico? Were they coworkers? No, that wasnât right⊠lovers?
The bartender cleared his throat and handed them another pair of drinks, saying, âAnother round for the happy couple, on the house.â
Rico leaned into Jackson and whispered, âI canât wait to rip that suit off of you. ÂĄDiache, estĂĄs que abusas!â
âEasy now, mi tigre,â Jackson smirked, pulling him close. âAt least wait until weâre on the private plane.â
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