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@the-caffeine-fiend
TEXANGAINER
Our student social media intern took over our Instagram today, and he insisted on doing a Q&A! Ask him your burning Pfatter U questions on IG: @ pfatteruniversity 🐷😉
“Babe I brought you a snack!” Said your boyfriend in the most characteristic tone.
He waddled in carrying a giant tolberone, but you had other plans.
“I dunno babe. I need something bigger…”
He pauses and you pull him close, making out with him furiously.
He thinks you’re down to play and he immediately undresses as the two of you continue making out.
That’s when you grabbed the back of his head and forced it into your mouth.
Your boyfriend began to struggle and pull himself out, but you held yourself steady and didn’t let him break free as you pushed him further inside you.
You could hear him beg, yell, whimper and moan, but it turned you on as you cock immediately became erect.
With his body sliding down your throat, his large form jerked against your cock and just in time as you exploded in creamy goodness between your legs as he unintentionally gave you one hell of a foot job as he desperately tried to get himself out.
You finally ended it by holding his legs up and taking a large gulp that sent him down completely.
He was pushed rapidly into your gut as his spilled completely into your lap, now reduced to belly bulges as he made muffled pleas for help and escape.
You tried to move, but he was definitely big enough to pin you down, not that you minded of course, you just wanted to jerk off once more but you’d have to use your former boyfriend-now late night snack as a personal massager to stroke you.
As you sat there licking your lips, you forgot about that giant tolberone that fell to your feet during the quick scuffle and not to be one to waste food, you unwrapped it in its chocolately -goodness as you unhinged your jaw once more and swallowed it down with a single gulp!
As young laid there on the couch with a full belly, you reached over to your phone and immediately started going on dating apps.
“Going to need a new boyfriend… I’m still hungry..”
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 know…"
"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 and…" She shuddered, "Why would you even risk that? To end up as nothing but a…"
"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 mean…." 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 shit…" 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 mean…"
"You can take a break for just a little Rich." Anna said, "You're always working too hard anyway."
Rich sighed, "Fine… fine, okay…" 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 mind—beers 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 too—their 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 legs—not quite painful, but definitely strange.
"Just stress, just stress." He repeated to himself, "Nothing to worry about, I'm okay…"
His phone buzzed twice in rapid succession. Rich fished it from his pocket with unsteady fingers. Two notifications glared back at him—texts 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't…" His eyes widened as he looked down at his hands, "God…"
They were changing shape, stretching and thickening. The skin becoming more weathered, coarse hairs sprouting along the backs of his hands.
"Wha…"
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 be…"
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 no…" 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… pleasseee…"
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 – 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 yeah…." 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?"
( follow up) After kissing his feet in thanks for giving you a ride earlier, you know your teasingly dominant friend still isn’t done having you serve his 🦶🏻. He comes in, slips off his shoes and socks, and lifts one barefoot up at you in anticipation. You haven’t told him openly about your foot fetish, though he probably knows, but you gradually went along with his light demands of kissing his feet. First his shoes innocently and now progressed to his bare feet. You went with it but didn’t expect you’d find a friend who enjoyed having you at his feet. You lean in and kiss his bare foot all over, detecting the faint smell of them. “Now my toes. Get your tongue between them.” You go for his toes, darting your tongue between each one, making sure they get slightly moist. You see him grin in satisfaction as you make another pass on his toes before dragging your tongue from his heel upward. He raises his other bare foot up at you and you push your nose into toes, taking a long whiff. You start licking the other foot, licking his toes, seeing him watch you. You stay there for a few more minutes before your phone rings, prompting him you need to go. You thank him for the ride and when he stands up, you quickly bow down, and kiss the tops of his feet. You’re so lucky you found him as a friend.
“She isn’t going to be back for a while so I figured I’d game a little till your sis get’s back. Why don’t you sit on the floor by my rank socks and get a good whiff of them like you did last time. You defiantly seemed to like my foot smell so get back down there again. This time push your whole face into the bottom of my sock and take some deep sniffs. Yah, you like that don’t you? Getting some nice whiff’s under my toes foot boy? Kinda feel’s good feeling the air being breathed in from between them. What’s that? You wanna be my footrest, yah sure. I’ll just use your face as my personal foot wipe till your sis get’s back. Make your face reek of feet.”
You lay there, breathing in the football players rank socks as he waits for your sister to get back. Him totally owning you as his foot slave and loving the foot power he has over you.
Does these shorts make my ass look fat ?
Hey! I just got my first apartment and it was so cheap!! The landlord mentioned it used to belong to some jock that just left abruptly leaving all his stuff behind. When I entered the first time the alarm went off announcing an intruder. I don’t know what to do I don’t have the security code!
"So here we are."
You grimace as you take a step into your new apartment. The smell of stale sweat, unwashed clothes, and axe invade your nostrils. You take in the sight- unwashed clothes in the corner of the room, a work-out bench surrounded haphazardly by dumbbells, and the tubs of protein powder in the small kitchenette. There's a flatscreen TV, some game station, and posters of athletes on the walls. Empty beer cans sit on a coffee table.
"This can't be..."
"It is." The landlord is dismissive- his breath smells like cigarette smoke and his shirt is stained and straining against his gut, "Previous tenant didn't move his shit out." He shrugs, "Consider it fully furnished- didn't even charge ya extra."
"But my stuff?" You retort, "I have..."
"Look kid, that's not my problem. You want the place or not?"
You bite your lip and tap your foot as you consider. There wasn't a cheaper place in the area. And this was your chance. Your chance to move out. Your chance to start your adult life outside your parents' home. You sigh- the pros and cons running through your minds. It is a pretty nice flatscreen...
"I'll take it."
"Just remember we renew on a monthly basis." The landlord continued, "Means I can terminate your lease at any time, got it?"
"Got it." He nods and hands you a key, before walking off, "Asshole." You mutter, shutting the door behind you, "Where do I even begin?"
You scan the laundry. The dirty dishes. The haphazard free weights. You can't even begin to think of a game plan before a loud blaring sound goes off.
"Unidentified intruder." A robotic voice starts, "Biometric scans incompatible. Please state security code to disengage."
"Just great." You mutter, "Seriously? Didn't even bother to disengage the security system?" You sigh, "I don't know, 1-2-3?"
"Incorrect." The voice states, "Initiating containment protocol."
"Containment...?" You can't even finish your sentence. Several mechanical arms shoot out from behind different panels and quickly secure your arms and legs, "What the fuck!?" You gasp as they grip you tightly, "Please! Let me go!"
"Bro, can you hear me?" A human voice- dripping with a condescending cockiness- fills the room, "Dude, say something."
"Yes! Yes I can hear you!" You call out, "Please! I need help!"
"Who the fuck are you, bro?"
"Wh-what? I live here! Who are you?"
His guffaw fills the air, "Seriously? God that fuckin' scumbag." He clears his throat, "I'm Luke, bro. I live here."
You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart as the cold metal digs into your skin. "Okay, okay. I just signed a lease for this apartment, like, 10 minutes ago. The landlord said the previous tenant left all his stuff behind and he was giving it to me fully furnished. I had no idea anyone else lived here!"
A derisive snort echoes through the speakers. "Are you fuckin' kidding me right now? That greasy slumlord tried to rent out MY place without telling me?"
You squirm uncomfortably against the restraints, panic rising in your chest. "No, I swear I didn't know! He never mentioned another tenant. Said I could just move in and keep whatever was already here."
Luke lets out a string of colorful expletives. "That son of a bitch! I pay good money for this apartment and he tries to screw me over like this?" You hear him take a deep breath. "I knew it. Every fuckin' summer. That's why I bought this security system." He chuckes, "Alright listen up, bro. Here's what's gonna happen. We're gonna prank the shit out of him."
You blink in surprise, caught off guard by the sudden change in tone. "Prank him? Please just let me go!" You tug futilely at the mechanical arms holding you captive.
Luke laughs, a mischievous edge to his voice. "Oh, trust me. This is gonna be epic. First things first - let's get you outta those clothes. Initiate Protocol L." There's a series of beeps and clicks, then suddenly another set of mechanical arms violently rips off your clothes.
You yelp in shock as the robotic limbs tear away your clothing, leaving you naked and vulnerable. "Hey! What the hell man?!" You shout.
Luke cackles gleefully. "Damn, look at you! Built like a twig, huh? No worries, we'll fix that real quick."
"How is this a prank?!"
Luke chuckles darkly. "Alright, picture this. You're gonna become ME. My spitting image. Then when that lying sack of shit landlord comes to check on 'you', he'll get one hell of a surprise seeing me back!"
The robotic hands grip your ankles firmly as you feel a strange tingling sensation spreading up your calves. "W-wait, hold on! That doesn't make sense!" You protest vehemently, squirming against the restraints. "This is crazy! Let me go! I won't tell anyone, promise!"
Luke scoffs. "Tch, and miss out on this prime opportunity for revenge? Nah, bro. Besides, you don't really have a choice anymore." As if on cue, a pair of Luke's dirty compression shorts are roughly shoved into your mouth, the pungent scent of unwashed fabric and musk flooding your senses. "There we go! Now shut up and enjoy the ride while the system works its magic."
You gag slightly as the strong odor invades your nostrils, your tongue recoiling from the salty taste of the fabric. The tingling intensifies, spreading higher up your legs as the mechanical arms knead and mold your flesh. You feel a strange stretching sensation, almost like your muscles are expanding beneath your skin.
"Mmmphh!" You muffle a cry around the makeshift gag, eyes widening as you watch in disbelief as your legs slowly begin to thicken and bulk up. The process is gradual but undeniable, your calves growing meatier, thighs broadening.
"Now that's what I'm talking about!" Luke whoops appreciatively as he observes the changes through the cameras. "Check out those gnarly feet! Soon you'll be stomping around in my size 14s." The robotic arms continue massaging your newly enlarged lower legs, defining every muscle group. Downy, blond hair sprouts from your newly muscular legs.
You try to use your newfound lower body strength to break free, but its all for nothing. Frustration and confusion war within you as the transformation continues unabated.
Luke's mocking laughter fills your ears. "Heh, might as well relax and enjoy the ride, bro. Struggling ain't gonna do shit." You gasp as the robotic fingers wrap around your dick. They begin to stroke and massage with surprising gentleness, coaxing your dick to swell and harden under their ministrations.
"Hahaha, yeah, enjoy it while it lasts, bro!" Luke cackles, "Soon you'' be packing some serious heat, just like yours truly!"
The mechanical hands work your shaft with expert precision, pumping and twisting in ways that send jolts of unwanted pleasure coursing through your body. You feel your length steadily increasing, girth expanding as the artificial appendages mold and reshape you.
"F-fuck…" You groan around the gag, hips bucking involuntarily into the relentless stimulation. Your testicles churn and tighten, swelling with potent seed as the transformation intensifies. The urge to shoot your load building rapidly.
"That's it, let it happen!" Luke encourages gleefully, "Fuck this is hot. But we still have work to do."
As the mechanical hands continue their relentless assault on your hardening shaft, you feel another set of robotic fingers beginning to knead and massage your abdomen. The tingling sensation spreads across your stomach and sides as the system works to reshape your torso. Your belly begins to firm and flatten, excess fat melting away as lean muscle takes its place. You watch as six-pack abs emerge and definition appears along your obliques. The process sends waves of warmth radiating outward from your core.
"Holy shit, I look good." Luke whistles appreciatively, zooming in on the camera feed. "Fuck, I'm impressed. This system is top notch." He chuckles darkly, "Bet you're feeling real good right now, huh?"
Lost in a haze of overwhelming sensations, you can only moan weakly around the gag stuffed in your mouth as the mechanical hands begin to knead and massage your chest. Robotic fingers dig into the soft flesh of your pecs, working out kinks and reshaping the muscle tissue.
You gasp sharply as nimble digits find your nipples, rolling and pinching the sensitive nubs between thumb and forefinger. Electric jolts of pleasure shoot straight to your groin, making your newly enlarged cock twitch and leak precum.
"Damn, look at those nips," Luke comments with a low whistle, "Gonna be begging for attention soon enough."
The robotic hands work your chest with practiced precision, molding and shaping the muscle beneath your skin. You feel your pecs swelling and expanding, becoming rounder and more pronounced with each passing second. The sensation of your nipples being toyed with sends new shockwaves of pleasure through your body.
"Fuck yeah, work those tits," Luke growls approvingly, clearly aroused by the sight of your forced development.
Your pecs continue to expand under the relentless manipulation of the mechanical hands, growing larger and more defined.
"Goddamn, I'm getting a boner watching this," Luke admits shamelessly, adjusting himself. "Keep going, make those tits huge and juicy. I wanna see 'em bounce when you walk."
Panting heavily around the gag, you manage to crane your neck downward, your eyes widening in shock at the sight before you. Two massive, perfectly rounded pecs jut proudly from your chest.
"Holy fuck, look at the size of those things!" Luke crows, zooming in with the camera. "Bet you love having such big, sexy tits, don'tcha?"
Before you have time to think, the mechanical arms grip your forearms firmly. You feel a strange tingling sensation spreading through your biceps and triceps as the system begins to reshape your upper arms. Muscles swell and expand beneath your skin, becoming thicker and more defined with each passing moment.
As your arms are raised, you feel a fine mist spraying from hidden nozzles, coating your armpits with a potent, masculine scent. Dark hair begins to sprout from your pits, growing longer and denser by the second until you're left with a thick, musky forest.
"Gotta make sure you smell like a real bro."
The robotic hands continue their relentless sculpting of your upper body, honing your shoulders and lats into broad, powerful planes. You feel your deltoids pop and crack as they expand, giving you an impressively wide, V-tapered look.
"Fuck yeah, look at those guns!" Luke whoops appreciatively, admiring your newly chiseled arms. "You know how many guys would kill for my physique? You're one lucky fucker."
With a final firm squeeze, the mechanical arms release your now massive, vein-ripped biceps. Your entire upper body drips with glistening sweat. The musky pit hair tickles your sides with each labored breath.
"Almost done, bro," Luke announces, a hint of anticipation in his voice. "Just gotta give you the finishing touches. Initiate facial reconstruction sequence!"
You feel a strange pressure building in your skull as the robotic hands move up to cradle your face. The tingling sensation intensifies tenfold, spreading across your cheeks, jawline, and forehead. You grit your teeth as you hear a series of pops and cracks, like eggshells breaking.
Through blurred vision, you catch glimpses of your reflection in the nearby mirror. Your features begin to shift and morph, cheekbones sharpening, jawline squaring. The bridge of your nose straightens and narrows. Eyebrows thicken and arch perfectly. All the while, your hair grows out and lightens to a sunny blond.
"Holy shit, it's working!" Luke exclaims, practically bouncing in excitement. "Keep going, almost there!"
The transformation reaches its crescendo, your face now an exact replica of Luke's handsome, chiseled features. Even your eyes have changed color to match his piercing blue gaze. You stare at your new reflection in stunned silence, hardly recognizing the Adonis looking back at you.
"There we go, perfection!" Luke declares triumphantly, giving you a thumbs up. "How's it feel to be me, bro? Pretty fuckin' awesome, right?" He chuckles, clearly pleased with the results of his handiwork. "Alright, showtime! Time to go scare the ever-loving shit out of that lying sack of crap landlord."
You gasp as the gag is finally removed from your mouth, relishing the feeling of fresh air filling your lungs. But any relief is short-lived as a surge of anger and confusion overtakes you.
"What the actual FUCK, Luke?!" You snarl, your voice a perfect mimicry of his own. "You can't just do this to me! I don't want yo be you! Turn me back!" You struggle against the remaining restraints, muscles flexing uselessly.
The mechanical hand wrapped around your painfully erect cock gives a firm squeeze, drawing a strangled moan from your lips despite yourself. "Nnghh…stop…please…" You pant, equal parts furious and turned on, tears of frustration pricking at the corners of your new baby blues.
Luke's expression darkens, disappointment and anger flashing across his perfectly replicated features. "Aw come on, don't be like that, bro. This is gonna be hilarious!" He pauses, considering your protests, then sighs heavily.
"Y'know what? If you're not gonna appreciate the gift I'm giving you, then maybe you don't deserve to stick around anyway." His voice takes on a cold, menacing edge.
You feel a sudden, sharp pain lance through your temples as the arms massage your head.
Your mind begins to swirl and change, Luke's brash, cocky personality imprinting itself onto your psyche. Memories that aren't yours flood your consciousness - high school football victories, locker room trash talk, late night video game sessions fueled by pizza and beer.
"Fuck yeah, nothing beats the rush of winning!" You hear Luke's voice echo in your thoughts, replaying a triumphant moment after a tough workout.
Suddenly, you find yourself craving the taste of a protein shake, picturing the weight room equipment with aching familiarity.
"The gym is my church, bro. No pain, no gain!" Another flash of a memory - you setting a new personal record on the bench press, the spotter cheering you on.
The mechanical hand pumps your cock faster. A baritone moan escaping your lips. You feel your hips rocking into the touch, chasing more of that intense pleasure.
"Goddamn, look at you go," Luke taunts, his voice both in the room and inside your head now. "Already getting into it, aren't ya? Knew you couldn't fight it."
Memories of wild parties, crude jokes, and aggressive displays of masculinity flood your mind. You see yourself as Luke - a meathead jock, always ready with a witty comeback or a competitive challenge.
"You're ME now, bro. Embrace it!" Luke's personality seems to merge with your own, his arrogance and bravado becoming your own. You feel a surge of confidence, a need to prove yourself.
The pleasure cresting in your body melds with the overwhelming influx of new memories and emotions. You throw your head back with a guttural moan, your cock pulsing and twitching in the mechanical hand's grip.
"Fuuuuck yes! Work that dick, bro!" You hear yourself shout, your voice dripping with Luke's (your) arrogance. The filthy words roll off your tongue like they've always been a part of you.
Sweat pours down your newly chiseled physique as the transformation reaches a fever pitch. You feel your very essence reshaping, becoming more like Luke with each passing second.
"Can't wait to see the look on that loser landlord's face!" You growl, a wicked grin spreading across your new features. "Time to show him what happens when he fucks with the wrong guy!"
With a final, intense pulse of pleasure, you reach your peak, your cock erupting in a massive orgasm. Thick ropes of cum paint your new abs and chest as you ride out the intense waves of ecstasy.
"Holy shit, that was intense!" You pant, your voice a perfect mimicry of Luke's. You feel completely transformed, inside and out. The last vestiges of your old self fade away, replaced by Luke's brash confidence and competitive spirit, "Fuck...."
You look down at your body - the huge, muscular pecs, the cut abs, the bulging biceps, the thick, hairy legs. You flex experimentally, marveling at the power in your new form.
"Damn, I look good," you smirk, running a hand through your sun-kissed locks.
You stand tall, surveying your new body with a critical eye. The mechanical restraints fall away, no longer needed. You take a step forward, admiring the way your muscles ripple with each movement.
"Fuck yeah, let's get it done." You grab a pair of basketball shorts and slip them on, your massive package straining against the fabric.
You stride towards the door, a newfound swagger in your step. The lingering musk of sex and sweat clings to your skin.
"Ready to show that asshole what happens when he tries to screw us over?" You ask, throwing open the door. Your blue eyes blaze with determination, a wolfish grin spreading across your chiseled features.
You march down to the landlord's office, your new muscles rippling with each confident stride. Pushing open the door, you announce yourself with a booming, "Yo, John! Got a minute, bro?"
John looks up from his desk, eyes widening in shock as he sees you standing before him. "L-Luke? I thought you left for the summer! How did you…?" He stammers, face paling.
You grin wickedly, leaning against the doorframe. "Surprise, motherfucker. Tried to pull a fast one, huh? Renting out my pad without my knowledge?" You flex your bicep, the vein-popping muscle glistening under the fluorescent lights, "I think it's time we had a little chat about your business practices, John." He gulps, "Hope you're ready for a long, hard discussion."
King of jockstraps
Sun's out gut's out
Dude I saw that post about the dude becoming the football jock but like, upside down, and I gotta say I loved it. Has that ever happened before? Can it happen again? Love the idea of my hands becoming feet, feet becoming hands as a whole new person takes over my upside down self
You groaned as you slowly sat up in your bed, the morning light illuminating your room. With a sigh, you force yourself out of bed, grimacing at the pounding headache behind your eyes. Did you really drink that much last night? Were you really that hungover? You look down at your phone, the brightness bothering you somewhat as you notice several texts from your friends. Apparently something big was happening on the news. You figure it’s probably just another once in a lifetime event. You slowly stand up. You’d look into it in a moment, but only after you took some Tylenol or something.
“What the hell?”
You mumble, becoming acutely aware of your morning wood. It’s not uncommon, but fuck you were hard. And as you rub touch your dick through your shorts, your whole body shakes. The sensation is way too powerful, as if you hadn’t jerked off in weeks. And as that thought enters your brain, you suddenly realize just how horny you are. Your mind flashing with images of hot guys doing all kinds of things to you. You slowly pull down your pants, and fall back onto your bed. Your hand caressing your incredibly sensitive member. Each small touch sending a lightning wave of pleasure through your body. But as your eyes roll back into your head and you moan, you hear a sickening set of cracks fill the room. And you realize that something feels off. The hands around your dick don’t feel as soft. In fact, your hands don’t really feel like hands. Your eyes shoot open and you raise your hands to inspect them. Only they’re not hands. Your fingers have morphed into toes, your palms the bottom of two very large, masculine feet.
“What the fuck?”
You grimace at the smell that wafts from your two new feet. A muskiness that shares a similar odor to a gym locker room. And as your mind tries to comprehend what its seeing, you feel your arms violently contract. The pain and discomfort causes tears to well in your eyes and you watched through blurred vision as your forearms become shins. The muscles evolving into a set of powerful calves. You want to cry out, but the pain is quickly eclipsed by a pleasure that shatters your thoughts. Your dick seems even harder, pulsating and throbbing desperately for release. For freedom. The smell of your new feet sends you further into bliss and your mind tells you this is right.
“Fuck brah...”
The voice is just a whisper, but it carries with it a masculine edge that drives your libido even higher. It’s the voice of a total jock. The kind of guys you would only ever dream of sucking off. And in the haze of your splintering thoughts, part of you realizes something is wrong. Very wrong. You’re surrounded on either side by a pair of meaty thighs. Ones that squeeze your head, making it somewhat difficult to look around. But it’s not just that. From what you can see, your chest doesn’t look very much like a chest. Instead of two pecs, you see what looks more like a six pack, adorned on either side by a prominent V-line. All leading down to... all leading to you...
“Wh...”
Your voice becomes gargled as a salt liquid falls from your mouth, which is becoming increasingly more difficult to move. In fact, it seems like it’s being forced into a more oval shape. But you quickly become more concerned as you feel yourself lifted out of bed. Your face now pointing to the ground.
“Fuck this feels good.”
That masculine voices fills the room again. But it sounds louder. More prominent. Dripping with an arrogant confidence. You find it so sexy... so right. The voice of a real man... better than what you’d ever been. But in the midst of these blissful thoughts, there’s a resistance that surges. What are you thinking? You couldn’t... Any resistance fades though when you feel a firm, calloused hand wrap around your head.
“You’re gonna make me feel so fuckin’ good.”
The voice says. And before you can even think or muster up any kind of resistance, you feel the hand move up and down your new body. The feeling is beyond anything you’d ever experienced. As your body throbbed and stretched, the pleasure only amplified. The bag of your throat filling up with that salty taste from earlier. Your vision was starting to alter now- it was becoming harder to see. Even smell and hearing were starting to go. Yet, in these final moments, you could catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and the hand that was teasing you so much. All attached to the body of an adonis. The type of guy you’d gawk at in the gym. The cocky jock you’d jerk off to time and time again. Now he was jerking you off. Or well, himself. Because as your vision faded and you took one last glimpse of yourself, you knew what you were now.
“Just my fuck stick.” The jock breathed out, holding back a moan, “That’s all you’ll ever be from now on.”
He came just a moment later, coating the mirror with his seed. He fell back on his chair, breathing heavily. His one hand teasing his new, firm pecs while the others greedily pumped you. He smirked down at you, totally spent but clearly happy with his newfound independence. He looked down at your phone, noticing the messages your former friends sent. Just selfies of their new muscular bodies- their cocks limp and spent.
“Look at that lil dude.” He chuckled, “Don’t you worry,” He gave you a few strokes, your body instantly growing hard again, “We’re gonna have plenty of fun today.”
Me and my buddy get along well but I don’t have a father and for some reason I feel like I look up to him. He’s a brunette hockey player who really cares about his body and tracks all of his cals. Any way you could spike one of his beers and give me the best exjock dad ever?
“Let’s go!” Your bro throws down his game controller and looks over at you. His confident smile adorning his handsome, angular face, “I used that same move on the ice the other day.” His clear excitement is infectious and you can’t help but smile.
It was another one of your usual game nights with your bro. The two of you sitting on the couch, controllers in hand, playing some hockey videogame. And even though he always seemed to win, you just enjoy the moment. Your friendship started out when you were younger- the two of you meeting in grade school. And as the years went on, you grew closer. You’d go to his hockey games and cheer him on. He’d fill in as that male role model you needed. When you went to college, he’d continue playing hockey, while you focused on your studies. But you continued to enjoy each other’s company. But this was your last year, and he planned to move across the country. The very thought was painful. Losing him would be tough.
“Hey, you good?” He asks, “I told you I wasn’t going easy.”
You smile, “I was wondering,” You begin, “I know you don’t like beer...”
“Gotta keep these toned.” He says, running a hand down his exposed abs.
“But it’s bro night.” You continue, “I got some special beers for us.”
He seems to consider the offer. Part of him looking a bit apprehensive. After all, he spent much of his time focusing on maintaining his body. His lean muscles and thicc hockey butt were all products of his careful diet and dedicated workouts. But he could tell it would mean a lot to you. He nods slowly.
“One won’t hurt.” He says with a grin, “Cheers to another game night.”
Part of you feels relieved. Another part of you feels somewhat apprehensive. If the man you bought this beer from was telling you the truth... well, you didn’t know what to think. It was probably some prank anyway, and you probably wasted the money. You hand him a solo cup with the beer in it.
“To bro night.” He smiles and takes a sip of the beer, “You know, I’m gonna miss this.” You feel a pang of sadness in your chest, “But we’ll always be bros.”
You nod, taking in his words. Feeling a sense of impending loss. Wishing you could just enjoy these moments forever.
“I’m gonna miss this too... dad.”
He looks over at you and raises an eyebrow, “What did you just call me?” He chuckles.
And you can see it. A few hairs starting to emerge from his once clean-shaven face. A few greys appearing in his brunette locks. Was it true? Was this stuff really going to do what the man said it would?
“Nothing, dad.”
And as the words leave your lips, your buddy groans. His youthful skin starts to lose its glow. A few wrinkles appear on his forehead. And the hair on his face sprouts into a full beard. His hands rush to scratch his new facial hair and his eyes widen.
“Bro, what the hell...” He whispers, “Something’s wrong...”
“What do you mean, dad?”
You watch as his brunette locks begin to recede and his tan vanishes. All the while, small, itchy hairs start to sprout from your buddy’s chest and abs. At this point, he stands up and runs his hands down his new body hair. There’s a look of disgust and confusion on his face, and you can’t help but feel bad for him. After all, he did pride his clean-shaven look.
“You keep calling me dad.” He says, staring at you, “And now...” He catches a glimpse of his receding hairline and aged skin in the mirror, “Bro, please. Whatever you’re doing, you gotta fuckin’ stop.”
You could tell he was getting angry. But you were still marveling over the effects of this drink. You couldn’t believe it was actually working.
“Bro, are you even listening to me?” He says, “Please! You can’t...”
“Sorry dad.” You reply, putting even more emphasis on “dad.”
The effects are more dramatic. Your buddy lets out a pained moan and falls to his knees, gripping his abs. You can see tears fall from his eyes as he realizes his firm abs are feeling softer. And in only a few moments, his abs are covered by a thick layer of fat. And another. And another. And although your buddy is too busy squeezing his new flabby stomach, you can see his pecs fill with fat and sag, resting atop his new gut.
“This can’t be...” He winces at his new, gravelly voice, “Oh god, I sound so old.” He looks up at you, tears still staining his eyes, “Dude, come on... please... I can’t be this.”
A part of you feels bad, even guilty. Your friend’s anger replaced by fear. His confidence shattered. His toned physique truly replaced by that of a middle-aged dad. Part of you wants to reverse this. But you don’t even know how.
“I...” You bite your lip, “Look, I don’t even know if I can undo this, dad.”
Your buddy shuts his eyes and shakes as the short hairs erupt into longer follicles. You watch as a forest of hairs emerge from under his shorts and travel down his legs. His new gut and soft chest are covered in a forest of gray and dark hairs. And you realize now there’s nothing left of your old buddy, at least physically. His receding hairline, gray hairs, gut, and hirsute form all scream middle-aged dad. He slowly stands up, wincing at a pain in his lower back and knees, as he becomes more familiar with his new age.
“Dude...” He whispers, “What did you do?” You can hear the anger return to his voice.
“I didn’t want to lose you, bro.” You say, “And I’ve always looked up to you. And truthfully, I’ve always wanted a dad and the beer promised it could do that. Just as long as I called whoever drank it dad.” Your friend looks shocked and picks up the solo cup.
“Good one dude.” He laughs, “Okay, okay you got me. Maybe if I drink the beer and you call me bro or something, I can return to normal.” He says hopefully, “I promise we can forget all about this.” The desperation starts to creep back into his voice, “Just... please I don’t want this.” He begs.
You’re not a bad person. You even feel a bit guilty. And part of you even wants to do as he suggests. But another thought enters your head. Would he be able to forget all about this? Would he forgive you? You bite your lip and sigh.
“I’m sorry,” You can see his eyes widen in terror, “Dad.”
He drops the beer in his hand, causing the beer inside to spray everywhere. His eyes glaze over and his jaw goes slack. A part of you worries for a moment, but slowly he smiles. There’s no evidence of concern on his face.
“Ah sorry, I spaced out there for a second.” He chuckles, “Looks like I made a mess.” He goes to bend over to pick up the cup, but winces, “Damn back’s been acting up.”
“Don’t worry dad.” You say as he sits back down on the couch, “How’re you feeling?”
“I’m good, I’m good.” He reassures, “Come on, we have to finish our game.” He says with a grin, grabbing the game controller, “You know, I was quite the hockey player back in my day. Well before this.” He chuckles, patting his beer gut.
“I know.” You reply, sitting next to him, “You tell me all the time.” The two of you start to play, and you immediately notice his videogame skills are not where they used to be. But you’re enjoying this moment- going on as if nothing changed.
“Look at that!” He cheers when he scores a goal, “I told you not to take it easy on me, son.”
You go to reply but you feel a warmth coarse through your body. You quickly shake your head and return to the game. And only a few minutes later, he scores another goal.
“You doing okay there, son?” He asks.
And again, you feel a warmth coarse through your body. You look down at the controller and can’t help but notice that your forearms look a bit thicker- your hands meatier. You shake your head and look up at your dad.
“Uh, I’m good dad.” Your voice even sounds deeper- somewhat dumb too, “I-I gotta go to my room.”
You stumble towards your room, feeling somewhat off balance. Entering your room, you’re immediately hit by the smell of intense BO. The same way your bro would smell after a hockey game. There’s gear on your bed and random posters of hockey players on your walls. You barely have time to comprehend what’s going on, when you hear your dad’s voice.
“Hey son, are you okay?”
You groan as your muscles begin to contract violently and your shirt tears from your growing musculature. You can see yourself in the mirror- abs, thicc ass, and lean muscles- the body of a hockey player. And you realize that you’re becoming your dad’s ideal son. Somehow, the beer that splashed on you had the same effects as drinking it.
“Wait dad!” You call out, wincing at the oafish jock-like tone that saturates your words, “Please...!”
“Son?” He asks opening the door.
And your eyes glaze over. Your jaw goes slack. And you feel your mind warping and changing. Any memories you had of your old life or self are being forced into the very back of your mind- all to make room for your new existence as a smelly, ripped, hockey jock. Your dad’s perfect son.
“God it reeks in here.” Your dad laughs, patting you on the back, “Must be workin’ hard out there.”
“You fuckin’ know it.” You reply, eyes dull, “It’s gonna be a good game tomorrow, pops.”
“You learned from the best, champ.” He smiles, “Now come on, we got a game to finish.” You smile, “I want to show you one of my favorite moves. Worked every time. Maybe you can try it out on the ice tomorrow.”
“For sure, pops.”
You follow your dad back to the couch. The two of you playing videogames late into the night, filling the air with boisterous cheers as you played. You couldn’t have asked for a better dad. And he couldn’t have asked for a better son.
I'm back in college this week and my roommate is going to be a guy who is notoriously a dumb jock who is always skipping class to get laid or get high, I don't know how I'll get through this year with him
You were dreading returning to campus. Dreading the start of a new year. Dreading him. Seth. You and your friends had agreed to enter the roommate lottery system rather than risk your friendships. After all, good friends don't necessarily make good roommates. But when you saw who you would be rooming with... well, you weren't all too happy. And everyone knew. You sent texts to all your friends- even brought it up when you were talking with them over the phone.
"This year is going to suck."
"You think the rumors are true?"
"I heard he never showers, even after working out. Guy stinks."
"I heard he skips classes just to work-out. Probably why he's nearly failed all his classes."
"His previous roommate basically lived in the library to avoid him. I heard he was having sex every night and kicking his roommate out."
"His room always smelled like weed. I'm surprised they didn't expel him."
Your friends were willing to support you- listen to you. But as the first day of classes approached, it was getting clear they were tired of listening to all your complaining. After all, it seemed to be all you focused on. No conversation could go by without you bringing it up. Truthfully, it was kind of sad. So consumed with the idea of him being your roommate that you never gave him a chance.
"Hey bro, thought we should talk about our room."
You sighed when you saw the message from Seth. From him. Surprisingly mature, you had thought. You didn't think he'd be able to plan ahead like that. And so you two conversed. Divvying up who brought what to your soon to be shared living space. And just when you thought the conversation was over...
"Just wanna clear the air, I heard you've been talkin' shit about me."
You pause, rereading the message over and over again, "Don't know where you heard that from." You replied.
"At least be man enough to admit it." He replied, "Look, being me ain't no picnic. Don't need someone spreading shitty rumors too."
"I didn't say anything, sorry you think that." You figured his dumbass would leave it at that.
"I see." He replied, "If that's how you want this to be, fine. See you soon, bro."
You scoffed, "Being me ain't no picnic." You mocked, "Dumbass."
And then you arrived on campus. Finally had the chance to meet your new roommate. Seth first-bumped you upon your arrival, greeted you with a smile even. But all you could focus on was his body odor, the dull look in his eyes, the faint smell of weed on his clothes, and his muscular physique from all the time spent at the gym. Rumors? More like reality. But you wouldn't say that to him. Just keep the peace and get through this year.
It was 2AM when you realized the first challenge of living with Seth. The sound of rapid-fire gunshots and explosions fills the small dorm room as Seth hunches over his gaming setup. You toss and turn under your covers. But it's useless - Seth's late-night gaming binge is ensuring you remain wide awake and increasingly irritated. Morning comes far too soon, and you groggily silence your alarm before flopping back onto your pillow. Sleep feels too good to give up right now. Surely one missed class won't hurt…
But the pattern continues. Another missed morning class, then another. And you can't help but notice that Seth is going to bed earlier, playing less videogames, and even attending all of his classes. Yet despite the positive changes in Seth's behavior, you found yourself continuing to skip both your morning and afternoon classes. When a concerned friend called to check in, you brushed it off.
"Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm just really tired lately. That Seth guy kept me up for weeks with his stupid games. Now my sleep schedule is all messed up."
Yet something about that seemed... wrong. You didn't really believe your words, did you? The next day, you woke up at 1PM as was becoming routine. No point in going to classes, right? No. Instead, you felt a different urge. With your classes falling by the wayside, you found yourself at a loss for how to spend your newly freed-up time. On a whim, you decided to hit the campus gym. As you walked in, you spotted Seth there, but something seemed different. He wasn't dominating a weight machine or running on a treadmill for hours on end like the rumors suggested. Instead, he was doing a quick, efficient workout before heading to the showers.
As you went through your own intense workout, you couldn't help but feel invigorated. Your muscles burned in that satisfying way, your heart raced, adrenaline pumping through your veins. It felt...good. Really good. Better than you ever remembered feeling after a workout before. As the days passed, you swore you could see changes in your physique - definition emerging where there had been none before, strength growing in your limbs with each rep. It was exhilarating... almost addictive. Soon, trips to the gym became your primary focus, your absences from class stretching longer and longer as you chased this new high. In the back of your mind, you wondered vaguely if the speed of your gains made sense. But it was easy to dismiss such thoughts. After all, you looked great walking around campus in your new tank-top. When one of your friends made a comment to you about how much time you were spending in the gym, you brushed it off.
"Livin' with Seth sucks, bro. Gotta hide out in the gym, ya know?"
One day, as you were admiring your rapidly developing physique back in your dorm room, Seth approached you. He looked different somehow - less rough around the edges, more put-together.
"Hey man," Seth said, sounding friendly but with an underlying tension. "I think we should talk about our room." He hesitated. "It's a bit messy."
As you followed Seth's gaze, a sinking realization dawned on you. Your side of the room was indeed a disaster zone - clothes strewn everywhere, empty protein shake bottles piled up, posters peeling off the walls. How had you let it get this bad?
"This isn't…" you mumbled, struggling to form a coherent thought as you took in the mess. Something felt off, like you were seeing it through a haze. Your usually sharp mind seemed dulled, sluggish. The changes in your body, the skipped classes, the obsession with the gym…
"Not a big deal." Seth smiled, "Just wanted to bring it to your attention."
Days turned into weeks, and despite your initial shock at the state of your room, you found yourself unable to muster the motivation to clean it up properly. In a moment of frustration and seeking escape, you stumbled upon Seth's old stash of weed hidden in his closet. Seth hadn't used it in forever, so you figured it wouldn't be a big deal to borrow some. The smoke filled your lungs, a strange calm washing over you. Maybe this was what you needed to take the edge off, to cope with the stress of your declining grades and the constant mess surrounding you. The habit quickly grew, a few hits here and there becoming a daily occurrence. The smell of weed clung to your clothes, mixing with the scent of sweat from your frequent gym sessions. And as you walked across campus, you couldn't help but overhear snippets of whispered conversations:
"…seen him lately? He looks different, man."
"…heard he's been skipping all his classes, just goes to the gym non-stop."
"…weed smell? Yeah, it's coming from his direction. Thought Seth was the pothead, but…"
"…those gains though! Bro must be juicing or something."
"…ever shower? Or wash his clothes?"
Frowning at the whispers, you ducked into your dorm room, locking the door behind you. With a heavy sigh, you approached the full-length mirror hanging on the back of your closet door. As you gazed at your reflection, your eyes widened in shock. The person staring back at you was unmistakably you, yet...not quite. Your muscles bulged, veins popping out along your arms and chest. A sheen of sweat glistened on your skin, and dark circles rimmed your bloodshot eyes. Your hair was greasy, messy, and unkempt. And the smell...when did you last shower? Days ago? Weeks? The stench of stale sweat and marijuana clung to you.
Panic rising in your throat, you spun away from the mirror, your mind reeling. This couldn't be happening. You weren't this person - the lazy, stoned gym rat skipping classes and letting himself go. Something had to have caused this drastic change. Your thoughts turned to Seth. He had changed so much recently - getting his act together, being responsible. Meanwhile, you had spiraled downwards. It couldn't be a coincidence. Seth must have done something to you, some kind of sick prank or twisted experiment gone wrong. Rage and fear battled inside you as you paced the room, trying to piece it together. But your once sharp mind was slow and sluggish.
The knock at the door jolted you from your spiraling thoughts. Irritated, you yanked it open, ready to snap at whoever dared to disturb you. But the words died on your tongue as you saw the cute twink from down the hall standing there, his eyes widening as they raked over your shirtless, muscular form. You suddenly became acutely aware of the tent forming in your gym shorts.
"Uh, hey man," the twink stammered, averting his gaze but sneaking another peek at your chiseled abs. "Sorry to bother you, but, um, your music is pretty loud. Could you maybe turn it down a bit?"
You grinned as you leaned against the doorframe, flexing subtly. The twink's pupils dilated with lust.
"My bad, bro. Guess I got carried away, huh?" You drawled, voice low and rough. An idea struck you and you jerked your head towards the interior of the room. "Why don't you come inside for a minute? We can discuss it more…privately." You adjusted the tent in your shorts.
The twink hesitated only briefly before nodding eagerly, stepping past you into the room, hand tracing along your chest as he walked by. As you closed the door, you quickly pulled out your phone, firing off a text to Seth.
"Need the room for a bit, bro. Got company, don't come back till I say so." You set the phone aside, turning to face the horny twink.
Days blurred together in a haze of weights, weed, and constant sex. Your grades plummeted, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. This was living, right? Being desired, indulging every urge. One afternoon, as you lounged on your bed in nothing but a pair of loose basketball shorts, Seth entered the room.
"Yo, we need to talk," you slurred, eyes bloodshot from an earlier smoking session. You fixed Seth with a glare, anger simmering beneath the surface. "Those rumors about me…did you spread 'em? Trying to make me look bad?"
Seth's eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed defensively. "Whoa, hold up. I didn't spread any rumors about you, man. Where'd you even get that idea?" He crossed his skinnier arms, looking genuinely offended.
"Ah, sure." You grunt, "Just know, being me ain't no picnic."
So maybe now you understand. Maybe now you can appreciate being the undesirable roommate, the loser, the stoned gym rat that people whisper about behind their back. And Seth? Seth has a bright future ahead of him. Disciplined, studious, well-liked- really turned it around, eh? Now what was it you said?
"I don't know how I'll get through this year with him"
Don't worry, bro. You are him. Now and forever.
alex needs a strong father figure in his life, and, well. that figure is steadily widening
the sheer amount of times ryuji drags joker out to eat with him is staggering honestly