Ollie

He/Him. I write transformation, hypnosis and kink based stories. Some images are my own. 18+ Only. Don’t be shy about messaging me.

[wakeup01]

Hey there transformation fans. Here are some current highlights of my work. Also, follow the tags on my page if you want to see more! Hopefully you find something that you enjoy.

Drone TF

“As you can see here, the ancient Egyptians once believed that mummification was a form of…” The narrator droned on from the television spea

Chav Binman TF 😈

You’ve probably heard this one before, but It was a typical Monday morning for me, travelling through town on the way to class. Exciting, hu

Himbo Buttslut TF 💅

If you had asked Dante whether he would ever bottom, 1, he would probably punch you. And 2, he would insist that topping gays was just somet

Muscle Theft TF 💪🏼

Uffh. Yeah, that’s good. Just like I thought…tight. We’ll see how long that lasts. No need to talk bro, I know what you want to say. You’re

[wakeup01]

PINK!

Warning, the following story contains repeated use of the F slur, even tho it is often not used in a derogatory context. Read at your own discretion. This is an older story that failed to publish here before now. Enjoy!

It sounded too good to be true, a free haircut? When is anything really ‘free’? But that’s what it said on the voucher. It arrived in the post a few days ago, apparently adverting a new hairdresser opening in town, as if there weren’t already several dozen.

As a college student, I wasn’t one to pass up on free stuff, and well, my hair had grown pretty long. So today I had decided to check the place out, maybe they would be good enough to replace my old barber. Upon arriving, the most obvious thing was the pink. A lot of pink. Pink signage, pink exterior, and the name - ‘The Pink One’. Creative.

Someone definitely had a favourite colour and it wasn’t blue. I didn’t necessarily have an issue with the colour, but it did seem a bit gay. I really hoped no one I knew would see me enter, I quickly checked my surroundings before rushing through the front door into the reception room. Wait, do barbers usually have receptions? Granted, I’d never really been into any highbrow salons but this place looked way above my pay grade. Lucky I’m not paying this time huh? Inside is, unsurprisingly, more pink.

There were several chairs in what looked like a waiting area and a main desk with a bored looking woman, idly swiping at a phone. The chairs were all empty, I guess business wasn’t exactly booming just yet; no wonder they’re giving out free cuts. I walk up to the desk and notice a little sign saying ‘we’re hiring, no qualifications required’ in pink bubble text. No qualifications? That makes me somewhat nervous, my hair isn’t gonna be cut by some intern, is it?

I stare at the receptionist as she does her best to pretend I don’t exist. She turns away and sighs at her phone.

“No, swipe left.” She groans, spinning her chair in place.

“Excuse me?” I attempt to interrupt.

“Ugh can’t you see I’m busy?” She says incredulously. Again turning away from me.

“Well… no. I have a voucher for a free haircut?” I say, unsure of myself.

Immediately she stops, freezing in place. She slowly turns back around to face me.

“Thank god, I mean… why didn’t you say? That doesn’t matter now! Where was I… yes. If you would just like to take a seat and wait your turn.” She hurriedly yells, as if the building was on fire. Her whole demeanour changing at the flip of a coin.

“Um… there’s no one else here though.” I point out, turning to face the empty chairs.

“Hahaha. Aren’t you a smart one! I like you! SIT. DOWN.” She yells before immediately whispering, menacingly.

I quickly turn and take a seat, looking over my shoulder as she flashes a nervous smile in my direction. Damn - I’m not sure this is worth it for a haircut. What a screw loose. I wait several minutes before the receptionist calls across the room at me.

“Room two! Toni will see you now!”

Toni? At least the hairdresser will be a girl. With any luck, one a little less obnoxious. I stand and walk to a door on the left with a ‘2’ nailed to it. And yes, the door is pink.

Okay, so Toni is actually a guy. I do a bad job at hiding my disappointment when they welcome me.

“Oh…”

“Hey there, I’m Toni.” They offer their hand in greeting. I reluctantly shake it.

“I’m Jacob.” I state plainly, pulling my hand away to take a good look at the ‘man’.

Toni is, how do I put it? Slightly effeminate. They have peach pink hair in a undercut, one half is completely shaven with the other hanging over his face. He has a crop top that reveals a piercing in his belly button and his eyes are clearly accentuated by black eyeshadow. Right, so he’s probably gay. Don’t say anything stupid, I tell myself.

“Gay, right?” Shit.

“Yep.”

My curiosity is sated at least. Toni turns the chair towards me and I climb on without a word. He places a cloth over me before facing the chair towards a wall mirror. My hair is like a birds nest, I could definitely play a mad scientist in a shitty tv drama.

“Been saving up for me or something sweetie?” Toni teases, winking at me in the mirror. I try and hold back a wince.

“What are we doing with THIS.” He shakes my dark brown hair playfully, making it fall over my eyes.

“Ahem, I guess a tidy up all over. Not too drastic though.” I particularly emphasise that last part. I don’t want to have to explain some f@ggy cut to my friends.

“That goes without saying. Leave it to me. Sir.” I don’t like how he said ‘sir’ sarcastically like that.

I feel my hands shake, for whatever reason haircuts always make me anxious. Something about giving someone else control over my body freaks me out. Toni rummages across the counter in front of me and picks up a spray can. He turns, and without warning sprays the can all over my head, it smells like sweet strawberries. A puff goes straight into my face and eyes. I flinch them shut, the stinging causing them to start watering.

“Fuck man!” I yell in pain.

“Whoops, should of told you to close your eyes. They’re closed now at least!” Toni chuckles. I’m not exactly amused.

He wastes no time and takes a trimmer to my overgrown hair. I squint through bleary eyes, my head dizzy. All of a sudden I feel groggy, all my thoughts seem to dissipate. All except one thing.

PINK

I have no idea why, but my brain seemed fixed on that one word. That one concept. That one way of life…. Huh. My mind is shaken back awake as Toni roughly pushes my head down.

“Huh?”

“I said head down. You were spacing out like a ditz.” Toni answers, his hand placed firmly on his hip.

My cheeks blush a bright shade of PINK, embarrassed by the fact I lost my train of thought. I manage to open my eyes clearly now, noting how my hair already looks a lot shorter. Toni starts up the trimmer again, the pleasant hum buzzing next to my ear as hair falls from my head in clumps.

“So, are you a bottom or top?” He asks, nonchalantly.

“What? Uh, I’m not gay thanks.” I reply bluntly.

“Really? Then why did you ask if I was?” Toni pauses, looking confused.

“It’s kinda obvious you’re a gay bottom dude.” My eyes are sore and pink from the spray, but it doesn’t stop me from rolling them as I watch myself in the mirror.

“Who says I’m a bottom?” Toni sharply pulls my head to the side.

“You’re a top?! I hate to see what the bottom looks like.”

Toni pushes the trimmer behind my ears. The buzzing intensifies, a steady thrum making me relax back into the seat. Its sound seems to become ingrained in my head. I hear Toni saying something to me in the background but I feel myself zoning out; the world around me fades, until there is nothing but the room, me and Toni.

He takes the spray can to my head again, the wonderful scent of strawberries wafts into my nose.

I see myself staring dimly into the mirror, my hair becoming shorter and shorter, the sides now being buzzed into a fade. I can’t seem to muster the energy to care right now, even though a voice in the back of my mind is telling me to say something. A bigger part of me is wondering how my hair would look if it was

PINK

A little groan escapes my lips. My dick chubs up in my jeans, a drop of pre forming against my underwear. I absentmindedly grope at my crotch, a sense of bliss overcoming me.

“We’re getting there! What do you think about a french crop?” Toni smiles and places a firm hand upon my shoulder.

My mouth opens to respond but I’m finding it hard to find the right words. I do know I need to object somehow.

“Too f@ggy.” I slur.

“And? Don’t worry hun, it’ll look great on you. You trust me, don’t you Jacob?” His smile is captivating.

“Trust you.” It’s easier to just go along with it. He is a professional after all. So what if he’s a bit ‘fruity’.

“Good boy.” He whispers.

The praise sends a shiver down my spine. My hand automatically begins rubbing at my tented groin. I should feel so embarrassed, feeling myself up in a public situation like this. But I can’t seem to stop, it just feels right. Toni continues to style my hair, combing the front forward and trimming it to just above my eyes. Maybe it was just the lighting, but my hair colour looked a shade lighter.

I hear the familiar sound of the spray, the room gains a thick PINK haze from the particles swirling around me.

“You know what this product is called?” Toni absently asks.

“PINK.” We both say in unison.

I take a deep sniff of the air, the smell acting like an aphrodisiac. My thoughts become fuzzy again. There’s a strange sensation coming from my rear, I squirm in the seat as I feel my butt clench. My body is lifted up higher as my butt cheeks push out behind me.

“Mhmmm.” My voice whines, seemingly several octaves higher.

I furiously pull at my crotch, my tented dick feels less pronounced. It’s no longer giving me the same level of satisfaction, instead a dull itch pulses from my asshole.

“The fuck’s happening…to…me.” I say between breathy pants.

“Oh that, you’re just becoming a bottom sweetie.” Toni states matter-of-factly, tilting my head while he fades the back of my head.

My brain is operating in slow motion, his words reach my ears but I’m instead fixated by my hair, or what’s left of it. The sides have an extreme skin fade and the strands on front hang seductively over my eyebrows. But the most worrying sight is the colour, now a dusty light brown. I’m starting to look like a…

“Not a f@g”. I blurt out, my mind racing to catch up.

“No? You certainly sound like a bitch in heat. And that’s just the start hunny, just let it work it’s magic. Soon enough you’re be drooling at the thought of being a ‘f@g’.”

“No…” I unconvincingly protest. My voice cracking.

Toni smiles that dreamy smile again, and pulls in dangerously close to whisper in my ear.

“In fact, once we’re done, I’m gonna push you over this counter, and impale you with my juicy pole as you watch the spark of intelligence fade from your eyes in the mirror. At which point you’ll be begging to taste my cum like a cheap slut. Doesn’t that sound perfect, hmm?”

“Fu…frick.” My voice now decidedly effeminate.

None of that can be true, can it? That’s not me, I like girls. At the same time, the idea of letting him use me however he liked made my head soar to cloud 9. My mouth pulls into a sloppy grin.

“Tell me, what’s your favourite colour. Is it…?”

“PINK.” My mouth moves without thinking.

“Good boy. Just keep repeating that word in your head Jakie.”

Jakie? But wasn’t my name PINK. No…something was wrong with PINK. PINK. I couldn’t stop seeing PINK everywhere I looked. PINK walls, PINK tank top, PINK…hair.

My hair was pink. Bright strawberry pink. A quiet giggle slipped from my mouth.

“You look adorable, how do you like your new hair?”

I loved it.

Why wouldn’t I? PINK was my favourite colour. Besides, it wasn’t gay to like pink. And it definitely wasn’t gay to have a pretty hairstyle with your initials shaved into the side. It was totes cute.

“It’s um… nice.” I reply, sheepishly.

“It suits you. We just gotta make some finishing touches, on the house, then you’ll be ready. Eyes closed Jakie.” Toni holds the spray can up to my face.

I clinch my eyes shut. After a minute Toni instructs me to open them again. I blink several times, awestruck by my face in the mirror. It’s me, but at the same time it’s not. My nose had shrunk down to a cute button, my pasty skin now a expertly even tan. My eyes gleaming a bright unnatural blue, while my lips were deep PINK and awkwardly fuller, like I’d been stung by a bee. But most of all, there wasn’t a single blemish, my features perfectly symmetrical in every way.

“Heehee. I look soo good bestie.” My choice of words feeling slightly off in the moment, before I immediately shrug it off. So what If I giggle a bit, it doesn’t make me any less of a man.

Toni throws off the cloth covering my body and gestures for me to stand up. I get to my feet and wobble on the spot, my weight distribution felt wrong. I balance my footing and blush - my butt straining within the confines of my once loose jeans. I take a step forward and feel my bubbly cheeks jiggle behind me.

“G…go…gosh.” I stammer, looking behind my shoulder.

“Aww. You’ll get used to them.” he gives them a light slap and I hear them clap together.

Ugh. It’s time to go, I think. Before anything else happens. I feel…odd, like waking from a vivid dream. I’m thankful at least that I didn’t cum in my pants, it would of been hard to live that down - especially in the presence of a gay guy.

I turn to leave through the door but Toni stops me, pushing a PINK lollipop into my hand.

“Suck!” He instructs.

I ponder the object for a brief moment, before bringing the shiny ball to my mouth. I give it a little lick, and am rewarded by a sweet strawberry taste. I swivel my tongue around its length, savouring the flavour. Before long I’m slurping at the candy like my life depended upon it.

“You seem in your element there.” Toni beams at me, and I smile back.

For the first time I notice the prominent bulge in his tight shorts. I catch myself staring and immediately pull my eyes back up to his face. Now I really need to leave. I reach out to the door handle and…

“Aren’t you forgetting something cutie? I don’t get a tip? You’re such a clutz, Jakie.”

“Oh heck. Sorry.” I apologise, letting go of the door and letting my hand hang limply.

How could I have forgotten, sure the haircut was free but I still had to tip, especially after the brilliant job he did. The problem was, I didn’t bring any money, not even my wallet.

“Um, well…see. The thing is, I have nothing on me.” I stare down at my feet.

Toni places his soft hand under my chin and lifts it to face him. His other hand is resting at the hem of his shorts. He pulls at it slightly, revealing a bit more of his hips. The subtle outline of his tight abs catches my attention.

“That’s okay, I had something else in mind.”

He pulls his shorts further until they drop to his feet, behind them was a bright fluorescent PINK jockstrap. I don’t know why I’m not running at this point, in fact I can’t even tear my eyes away from his crotch. One of my biggest fears is coming true and I’m just standing here like an dummy.

Toni reaches his hand into his jock and pulls free a 7 inch cock. I instinctively gulp.

“How about it, my little dump truck?” He pulls at his foreskin and then looks me straight in the eye.

“I uh… I don’t know. Not really into guys.” My words barely audible as the lolly sticks out of my mouth.

“That doesn’t matter silly, you don’t have to be.”

Is that true? Isn’t it gay to let some dude frick you? I guess not if you don’t cum. It’s like helping out a friend, and he is my bestie. But more importantly, I owe him a big tip. I roll the tasty lollipop from left to right, my hands slightly shaky.

“‘Kay then. How do I…”

“Take those dull clothes off.”

Bleh, Toni can be pretty intimidating when he wants to be. But I do as he says anyway, removing my top and jeans, and then, finally my boxers. I look down, my dick a now meagre 3 inches hard; seeming rather poultry in light of his 7 incher. I seem to remember being bigger down here, but it’s hard to recall exactly.

“Cute nub. But let’s see what you’re packing back there Jakie boy.” Toni spins his hand in the air, indicating that he wants me to turn around.

I slowly face away from him, finding myself looking back into the mirror. My body is a girls dream, completely smooth with a tiny waist and wide hips. Where are my muscles? I look like a, like a…mhmm I get the sudden urge to feel my backside, and I reach my hands behind me. Ugh, my buttocks are ginormous, it’s like a half of my mass has moved back there. And I seem to be leaking, a moist viscous substance dripping from between my two basketball sized cheeks.

“Self lubricanting too, nice. You’re a keeper babe.” His remark felt more deriding than complimentary.

I pull my hand away, now sticky with the fluid from my ass. I give my fingers a whiff. Ah. Peaches. Sweet, PINK peaches. I’m lost in a daze. Toni’s hands begin to fondle my sensitive butt, every touch makes my nub ache. Satisfied, he pushes hard on my back. I bend forward, leaning against the counter in front of me - my legs move apart to balance my new rear heavy body.

“Mhmmm.”

He slaps his member against my back and grinds it down between my cheeks. I feel the tip of his cock push against my virgin hole. It dawns on me - it’s too late to back out now. In one swift motion Toni thrusts all the way into me.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” Toni grunts over me.

“T…tight” I echo back. I see myself panting heavily in the reflection. I spit out the PINK lolly, a strand of drool falls from my mouth.

‘Not gay, not gay’ I repeatedly tell myself. My body rocking back and forth as Toni begins taking me in earnest. I just have to make sure I don’t cum, no matter what.

“I told you this would happen, you’re a natural born slut, mhm. You can’t deny what your body wants fuckmuffin.”

“Wha…” I’m so confused.

My insides are pulled along the length of his shaft and then back again. Then again, and again. I felt like a fleshlight. Before long I sense myself pushing back against him, so that his cock can reach deeper into my hole, stretching me out fully. I never imagined dick could feel so good. My face in the mirror is one of complete lust, the sight sends a sudden jolt of fear to my head. If this keeps up I’m not sure if I’ll be able to hold back.

“Hmf…You’re gonna make an adorable PINK boi mmf… a coworker with benefits.”

What is he talking about, coworkers? I just came for a haircut, didn’t I? I’m not planning to work here. Besides, I don’t know the first thing about cutting people’s hair. Those benefits do sound pretty temping though. My butt is just begging to be pounded on the daily, as long as I don’t cum, it’s fine.

“Jakie, you’ll look so cute in a lil’ PINK thong and crop top.”

Yas, I would be cute. Being a PINK boi does actually sound adorbs. We’d like, have matching outfits! Hehe. Maybe I could even get a heart tattoo on my lower back.

“That’d be like, sooo fun bestie!” The sound of my own voice makes me cringe.

I’m talking like a stereotypical gay twink and I’m definitely not, I have some dignity. I need to pull myself together and act like a man. That’d probably be much easier without a cock lodged up my ass. I feel Toni speed up, maybe just to spite me. His hefty ballsack slaping against me in quick succession. My rock hard nub bounces under the counter, my tight balls churn. Frick, I don’t think I can take much more.

“Ah…It’s about time you let get go of that pathetic masculinity. What are you, hon?

“I…I…” Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

“I’m thuch a f@g!” I enthusiastically admit.

My little nub spurts a wad of cum across the wall, and with it go my inhibitions, my shame and my modesty. A little voice in my head yells out about something boring before quickly being drowned out by the image of my big booty stuffed into a pair of PINK shorts. Heehee. I’ve been utterly emasculated and I love it. In the mirror I have a huge dopey grin. Toni was like, such a good top. Gawd.

“Fuck, that’s hot babe! You’re almost perfect for the job.” Toni starts to slow down.

His 7 inch cock leaves my boi pussy and an emptiness sets in. It doesn’t last long as he spins me around and pushes me down to the floor. His dick slaps across my face. It’s dripping heavily with my own juices and his cum. The smell alone has me salivating. I can’t wait anymore and attempt to lunge at it but he pulls away.

“You gonna swallow every drop?” Toni raises his eyebrow and looks down at me. Did he get taller?

“Yes sir.” I whine.

In a smooth motion his cock passes through my pouty lips and pushes all the way to the back of my throat. I momentarily chock on its girth, but after a few thrusts I start working it like a pro.

‘How’s your own pussy taste?”

It was incredible! Like peaches and cream, an elixir of his cum mixed with my wet hole. Yum. I couldn’t get enough. I try and answer him but the words are muffled by my face full of cock.

“Yeah, let’s get you nice and dumb.” He grips my hair tightly and shoves my head into his smooth crotch.

“Ot…umb.” I try and tell him.

“No? Oh sweetie, once you swallow my cum, you won’t just be dumb, you’ll be basic. Not just gay, but capital G ‘Gay’. Happily submitting to anyone with a real dick. And our customers will be happy to oblige, before they too join you in blissful ignorance.”

Huh! No. Being gay was great, but I still wanted to have my wits. Not be some empty-headed slut, shaking my butt at complete strangers.

“Just imagine. You’ve finished on a clients hair, the colour now identical to yours. Well, they need to tip you somehow?” He puts on an exaggerated voice, as if talking to a child.

“Mfhmm.”

“Exactly! So you giggle, drop you shorts and push your bubble butt into their face. Don’t forget your pretty PINK thong, framing your rear like a thick cake. Then what do you say?”

“Hnnff!” I want to stop but the taste in my mouth is nothing short of addicting. If he could at least cease his talking…

“Close! You’d say, in that cute lisp: ‘Daddy, please eat my ass’.”

I try and desperately think of a way to end this. But each time his tip reaches the back of my throat it pushes away all my thoughts, like his cock is taking up all the space inside my skull. I go crosseyed as he rams my mouth like a bull. He was literally fucking my brain to mush.

“And you’ll be eaten out again and again, each time they’ll deposit their creamy load into your waiting mouth. So…you finally ready airhead?”

Please…

Toni humps three more times in quick succession before a geyser of his cum erupts in my mouth. On autopilot I swallow great gulps as the thick, full flavoured liquid flows down my throat. I drink every drop as he continues to unload his heavy balls. My tummy begins to bloat from the sheer volume of his strawberry milkshake.

With the release from his cock, I feel a release of my own, except mine seemed to be coming from up top. An abnormal amount of drool was leaking from my mouth, coinciding with my intellect draining from my brain. I attempt to stop the thick drool from gathering, to no avail, as my smarts literally drip from my mouth and soak into the pink carpet on the floor. After a few seconds I’m sat there with a completely empty look.

“Ahh.” I moan.

Uh, Wasn’t something bad supposed to happen? I didn’t feel very different. Like sure, my head was totes empty. And? It felt like, soooo gud. I really wanted to tug at my nub.

“Mmm.”

Can you say ignoramus, honey?‘ Toni pulls his cock free from my face.

“Um Ig…iglo…iglo-mo-must?” I try and sound out the word. It hurts my head. Whatever.

“Good toy. You’re hired.” His cock bobs up and down in front of me.

That’s nice. But I’m more interested in something else as I stick my tongue out and lick his pole clean. I can’t let any of it go to waste. Working under Toni sounds like a lot of fun, and I won’t have to worry about thinking too much; It’s basically perfect for me. And all the PINK!

“Mm, you’re good at that Jakie. But let’s get you dressed into something more your style. And then you can report to the receptionist for your training. You’ll be ready to serve by tomorrow.” Toni ruffles my hair and pulls me to my feet.

“Serve…” I bite my lip.

I make sure to get a good look at myself in the mirror. Like OMG, I’m stunning. Looking like a posable Ken doll. My tiny nub is the cutest thing, I can’t wait to see it be barely noticeable in a tight PINK thong. Wearing a cage at this point would be purely decorative. My eyes maybe seem a little dull now, revealing how little is going on behind them, but guys love that! They want a brainless boy toy, and that’s exactly what I give them.

It’s like I’ve been molded into the ideal twink: vapid, vain and without an original thought in my hollow little head. Before, I had a personality, ambitions and ideals. Now, I was totally basic, unremarkable and indistinguishable from a thousand other empty slutty bottoms. My whole identity replaced with sex, just another hole waiting to be filled.

Being unique is like, hard work - having to worry about what to say, how to dress and where to fit in; why bother when I can be ‘gay’ and let that label completely define me. Being cute and wearing PINK to match my bubble gum brain while others tell me what to do. Some may take being called dumb as an insult, but I take great pride in it! Smart people spend their whole life working to get ahead, all I need to do is drop my pants and bend over. Heeheehee.

“Jakie! Stop spacing out like a Himbo and bring that butt over here! Take these.”

I walk up to him and he hands me a pile of dull looking clothes; a pair of black jeans and a plain top. Bleh, how ugly. I bundle them up and toss them in a bin in the corner. Toni is now holding up my new uniform. I take the thong and pull it up between my legs, the thin piece of fabric rides up between my cheeks and presses against my sensitive hole. A little indentation is visible where my tiny cock pokes out in front.

I ‘cover’ myself up with a pair of tight booty shorts, they don’t leave much to the imagination; the fabric bunches up behind me. Finally I put on the florescent PINK crop top, it hangs off my tiny frame leaving my belly button exposed. On the front it says ‘PINK BOI’, and on the back is an arrow pointing down and the words ‘Open For Business’.

__________________________

You find yourself somewhere you never expected to be - a wall to wall pink room. It was definitely challenging your sense of masculinity. But hey, you got one of these ‘free haircut’ vouchers and if the only cost is being subjected to a gay as fuck waiting room, it’s worth it. Although the receptionist had certainly put a dampener on the whole deal. You hear her shout across the room.

“You’re in number one, they will see you now!” Her voice several decibels louder than necessary, considering the relative distance.

You stand up and walk towards the door. Quickly you move to the side as the previous customer brushes past you. A glazed look is plastered across their face and they almost walk straight into you.

Your hand wraps around the door knob and you look back and give them a sideways glare. You shove the door open and are greeted by the widest of smiles.

“Oh hai, I’m Jakie!” I greet you, shooting you a seductive wink.

[wakeup01]

What are you gonna fantasise about?

Worshipping my perfect body? Being made a braindead butt eater? Getting absorbed into my rear to make it nice and juicy? Maybe becoming a fresh new pair of undies? Go ahead and indulge yourself, be useful to me.

[wakeup01]

Happy Valentine’s day! Be careful not to fall into someone’s hypnotic gaze and end up as their obedient little toy to enjoy. Pink and bubbly and oh so ditzy. Trust me, you’ll be theirs for more than one day.

Not that you’ll have much awareness to complain.

[wakeup01]

Have had enough of being a smart studious twink and want to master my own chav transformation and get accepted by a new group of chav mates

Have started vaping and saw your advice about hair cuts and think I will get a high fade but wondering if you had any other advice? Best clothing? Way to talk? Jewellery to have? Just need a lot of help really please

That would depend upon a lot of things. Like whether you’re suitable to be an Alpha or a beta. And no offence, I wager you’re a prime subject to be a beta chav. You’re a follower, not a leader. You copy what everyone else is doing like a sheep, adopting whatever is trendy at the moment among other lads. So yes, when you get your hair cut nice and brutally short, you will feel good despite how silly it might look. In fact, It looking stupid just means you’re closer to being a dumb chav. It’ll give you the confidence needed to indulge yourself further.

You’d need proper gear, and that usually means matching tracksuits and branded trainers. That and a thick gaudy chain around your neck. It’s even better if all your clothes are from the same brand, it just makes you look like a ‘propa lad’ to be decked out in Nike swooshes. Like a mannequin in a sports shop, a walking advertisement for cheaply made gear sold to gullible idiots. That’ll be you, like putting a sign above your head saying ‘dimwit’. Then everyone will regard you as a chav at a mere glance, will label you without a second thought. It’ll only become easier to talk like one now that everyone already thinks you are one. To play the role, to fit in. Emboldened to swear without remorse, just loading up every sentence with some vulgarity, slang or ‘fuck’. All that vocabulary is really just taking up unnecessary space in your head, why use a dozen words when you can just say ‘mate’ a dozen times a minute instead.

Thinking is something the old, smart version of you used to do, now you can act on instinct, without filter. Who cares what people will think. Sure, everyone will perceive you as a moron with no intelligence or manners, but you’ll find propa mates that understand your tiny thickheaded brain much better. Because other chavs will flock to you like catnip, seeing a beta who is so easily swayed and manipulated. You’re like a plaything for Alphas, for them to remould you into their image. To make them feel better about themselves while you feel like you belong.

And you will belong. As a dipshit chav without a single thought of your own. Just how you wanted to be.

[wakeup01]

Let me get this right, you said I was evil for turning your annoying friend into a dumb fucking sock? But look at him, doesn’t he seem so happy to be a sweaty piece of fabric stretched over my huge fucking sole? Doesn’t he look amazing pulled so tightly between my smelly toes? His whole meaningless life distilled down to me and my feet. It’s all he’ll ever have to worry about. I did him a proper favour. How can I be evil for helping him find his role in the world. As a foot sniffer. A toe licker. A sock.

And he’s doing such a good job and all.

But like, there’s an problem, innit mate. Can’t you see? My other meaty foot is so damn lonely. Empty. Bare. Without propa protection. Just look at it. Don’t you want to help? To be useful? To find purpose? Just an easy ‘yeah’ and I can help you. I’m so kind like that.

Don’t overthink it, don’t ponder the consequences. Just listen to that stupidly horny side of your brain and embrace the idea of being a scally’s rank fucking sock. To spend the rest of forever gulping at my intense musk. To have to put up with me each and every day as your obnoxious god. Look at those perfect feet and get weak. Let your mind break for me just like your reluctant friend. Be jealous.

Give me your answer. Now.

Hahaha. I knew you’d make the right choice. Go on, suck my fat fucking toes and feel your worthless body wrap tightly around my huge cheesy foot. No more cares, no more responsibilities. No more you. Just an object, owned by me. So simple, so dumb. Whiff, lick and serve your new permanent home. Oh yeah, don’t forget to say hello to your equally moronic friend. I’m gonna wear you in all week long, marking you as my property with my intoxicating musk. Let it drown out all your thoughts. Let your mind turn to foot loving mush.

Good sock.

[wakeup01]

Rearview

Content warning. This story contains some light homophobic language, themes of body horror, gassiness and implied toilet use. Please enjoy kinks responsibly.

Room A55, your new home for the semester. Everyone, including you, were surprised to be accepted into the fraternity. They suspiciously agreed without question, even being rather eager for you to join them. You worried about how well you’d fit in, not being particularly ‘dudebro’ in nature. Reading books on college football seemed like an oxymoron, but at least you now understand the general concept behind ‘touchdowns’. Your options had been limited, it was the last space available; so here you were, about to meet your college roommate.

Looking for the right door, you pass by all the pumpkins decorating the dorm building corridor. Superstitious as it may be, but moving in on Halloween seemed like a bad omen. Especially considering the frat was known for its…tricks more than its treats. Eventually you find the right door - the number hanging loosely from a metal placard. You go to knock, but instead your clenched fist pushes the door ajar.

The frat dorm was a mess, clothes piled up on the floor and take-out packaging sat like historical artifacts. On the bed lay your new frat roommate. Brett, a 20 year old jock. Shirtless, his fit form was on full display, chest glistening in the warm sunlight bouncing through the closed window. He looks over briefly and barely pays you any attention, instead he seems focused on cleaning his sneakers with a…towel. A football game screeches out from a nearby radio

You’re knocked back by a wall of humid, acrid air - swirling with the scent of sweat and feet. You turn away from the room and take a big gulp before entering the hotbox.

“Uh…hey dude.” You call out and then recoil, regretfully. Each word meant swallowing down a mouthful of body odour. “Ack. Mind if I crack the win—”

*Brrrpp* A loud burp interrupts you. “Hey queer, was wondering when you were gonna show up. The names Brett.”

You are taken aback by how casually he threw that insult at you. Sure, you weren’t expecting the frat to be the most progressive of places but you didn’t expect to get clocked so quickly. “Wh—you can’t call me that! You…meathead.” You attempt to clap back, but your slightly wheezy voice failed to convey much confidence. Brett’s bemused expression didn’t help.

“Don’t get all worked up princess. It’s a matter of fact. It’s just how things work here, you’ve been assigned as my gay.” Brett sits up, giving you a full view of his muscled chest. “Chill. I’m not like most of the others here, I have nothing against the gays, you have your place on the hierarchy. And i’m an ally. Count yourself lucky bro.” How kind, you think. Today’s off to a great start.

You try to assess the seriousness of his declaration, but once again, he just smiles back at you. “Yes, how very supportive of you. Brett. I’m not sure our definition of ally is the same…”

“So, gay.”

“My name’s actually—“ You start to correct, before Brett loudly clears his throat.

“So. Is that your Halloween costume?” Brett questions, looking incredulously down at your pastel coloured hoodie and baggy trousers. He tilts his head towards your messy hair that sits just above your eyes - dyed rather flamboyantly with blonde highlights.

“These are my normal clothes?” You respond, though it sounds more like a question than a statement of fact.

“Cute.” He says, with obvious sarcasm. Brett on the other hand looked like the typical all American jock. If anyone was wearing a costume, it was him. But you wagered he enjoyed playing into that stereotype. That it was part of the persona he liked to display. The toxic fuckboy. But with secretly a heart of gold? God, you hoped so.“Enough with the fucking pleasantries though brah.” Ah. Perhaps not. Maybe a bronze heart at best. “So, do you like it up the butt hole?”

“What!?”

“Oh learn to lighten up and laugh at yourself. I’m a butt guy too. Although maybe not quite in the same way. What makes YOU like ass so much?” It would have been easier to argue if Brett wasn’t so hot. And oblivious in a annoyingly cute way. Well intentioned but clearly falling short on the brain cell lottery. You catch yourself hopelessly blushing in front of him.

“I—I’m not gonna explain my love of butts to you. They’re just nice. Soft, round and big in all the right places…ahem.”

“Uh huh. Don’t let me stop you. How about mine? How would you rate my pumpkin, as a gayboy?” Without giving you a chance to profusely refuse, he confidently turns away and flashes his rear end in your direction. You think to look away for a second but a stirring in your groin won the argument in your head.

“It’s fine. Not bad, just a lil flat perhaps.” You utter casually, as if giving your thoughts on someone’s cooking. Christ alive, why are you standing here discussing the merits of ass with some straight meathead? Maybe he’s secretly closeted?

“Yeah it could be better for sure man. But come closer, get a better view buttlover.” Failing to hold back a smirk, he leans forward so that his ass sticks out more.

“Ugh, why you gotta be such a dick. We literally just meet and this is your first impression to give me.”

“Oh give me a break, you guys love a toxic fuckboy. Don’t think I don’t see all the gay thirsting I get on my social media posts. Hell, you’re probably one of them, ey bro.” Brett looks at you with an intense, knowing stare. You didn’t like how you were bereft of any witty response to that assertion. Like he had just caught you dead to rights and you had no defence or grounds for denial. It was hard - nigh on impossible, to explain his sexual appeal. But yet there it was.

“Can—can we talk about—“

“And it is quite adorable how flustered you lot get in my presence. Don’t worry, you’ll be treated well with me. You’ve already stalled enough, so hurry up and get on your knees so you can rim me.”

…

The request hangs in the air. There’s a second of silence, being caught at a loss for words. “What the hell! I’m not doing that!” You finally insist, although, your stiffening dick may have a different opinion on the matter. It was shameful, but being used by this douchebag was turning you on. You tried your best to maintain some sense of dignity. “No.” You reconfirm, though your voice was noticeably more shaky and the tenting was becoming harder to hide.

“Look buttboy, we both know that you’re gonna eat my ass, sooner or later. Want to stay here, you gotta pass this simple test. Every frat gay had to do it.” Brett strides over to you, places a hand on your shoulder and smirks. You swallow, avoiding all eye contact with him. Were you about to do this? It seemed insane that you were even considering it. “So let’s just skip the fake indignation and get to the part where I sit on your face. Then we can both go about our day.”

“Stupid hazing rituals. Gotta put it like that…why you need to be a jackass.” You can’t help but smile slightly. Despite his overt toxicity, there was a certain charm exuding from his laidback personality. From the way he just spoke his mind. Having a nice body might have had some influence too…

“You love it though. I’m real easy to like. Huhuh. We’ll be an inseparable duo in no time.” Oh yes, the new Laurel and Hardy routine. He’s a loveable dick and you’re the comedic foil for his braindead antics. Damn, this was nuts. “Time’s wasting. On the floor now, boy. Please.” He says with overdramatic sarcasm, shining his perfect white teeth through a wide grin.

You can’t believe what you’re hearing, and yet, his dominant voice has you feeling…things. Without a word you kneel down in front of him. Embarrassed by how easily you caved to his request. You justify that it must just be a hazing method, a way to get his respect. You’ve heard this kinda of thing happened, at least he was upfront about it. Somewhat refreshing, honestly.

He backs up, eclipsing your vision with his tight rear. Again, it could do with a bit more heft. Though for someone like him, I guess it’s not important - it’s not like he’s bottoming, you rationalise. Brett stops an inch from your face. Geez, he was really milking this whole exchange. This close you could discern every bump and pore on his rear. You see your blurry shape reflected in a drop of sweat shimmering on his cheek. On the upside, at least his ass was clean-shaven. The downside was an uninterrupted view of his clenched hole. Something your cock seemed quite pleased about, despite what your brain tried to tell you - the two weren’t on speaking terms seemingly right now.

You take a long deep breath and push your face into his crack, muffling the seemingly distant sound of him snickering above you. It was simple, easy. Just close your eyes and…lick.

It wasn’t too bad, at least that’s what you tell yourself. Or what your dick is attempting to assert to you. It’s just like licking an ice cream cone, only more salty and rank. Ass flavoured.

“That’s it, get right in there buttock boy. Fu—fuck. If I cum, you better not tell anyone.” Ugh, you wish he would just stop talking, because now you really wanted to make him cum.

The pressure above you intensifies rapidly as Brett pushes down lower onto you. He sighs loudly to ensure you hear his open enjoyment of your humiliation. You seem to lower impossibly closer to the floor, the weight of his rear getting heavier as your body feels lighter and lighter as each second under him passes. With your hands you attempt to push back, palming each round globe of his rear as they seemingly inflate under your touch, ballooning around you. “Mmphhh!” Your moans are muffled under his increasing weight. It was like your whole body was being sucked into him like a vacuum, your legs magically lifting from the ground as they kick helplessly at the air.

It felt as though you had been spun around, now facing out against the room, seeing his dirty laundry strewn across the floor. Your form contorts and twists below you, pulling into one large sphere of mass that centres around your face. That twinky figure you were proud of dissolving into pure fat that effortlessly rounds out. With a pathetic squirt, your cock unloads into the air before becoming immediately flaccid, pulling up against your changing shape. The small bump soon flattens into a perfectly smooth surface.

A bundle of clothes falls below you, crumpling messily across the floor. The bright pastel colours of your hoodie taunt you from the corners of your vision. Looking straight ahead, you see your cheeks swell and begin to obscure your view. Expanding like two giant swollen basketballs. They double and then triple in size. The tissue around your face becoming pillowy and soft, burying any hint of facial features - smoothing out any imperfections on your skin. Not a single hair remains on your body. Your lips tighten and pucker, nestled deep beneath the two mounds of flesh. You feel yourself stuck in place, suspended in the air, somehow floating effortlessly above the floor. You get the distinct impression that your form - whatever it is now, is part of something larger. Merged and absorbed like some horror experiment gone wrong. Indeed, something had gone very wrong, that much you couldn’t deny as much as you wanted to. Your sense of being felt…wrong, alien. Sensing phantom limbs you no longer possessed. Somehow, you were different. Changed. You don’t even want to dare imagine it, to think about what could have possibly just happened.

“You finished back there bro? Aaaah. Yeah…mmm, you’re finished.” Wait did he just climax, what the hell happened? Where are you? You feel your weight shift as he stands up, still perplexed as to why you couldn’t see anything. You desperately struggle to move, to no avail. A hand seems to grab at you, filling you with pleasure. Just then, a blinding ray of sun lights up your world and you are greeted to a shocking sight. Bretts ass. You are staring out at his huge cheeks being pulled apart in the mirror. And then it hits you like a truck. Wait, no, not his ass. You. It’s you! You are looking out between those huge cheeks, your cheeks. Your face was now Bretts bubbly backside. A rear that had seemingly doubled in size since you last saw it, just a minute ago. It looked impossibly big, fake even. Like it had undergone extensive plastic surgery. You could feel his cock and balls hang heavily just below you, pulling your lower skin taught. The sensation is surreal, as if in a lucid dream. You go to shout out, but the only response is the twitching of his hole, a tiny squeak escaping your puckered anus mouth.

“Enjoying yourself, buttface? What’s it like being an ASS? My ASS.” The way he emphasised THAT word wasn’t making things any easier. “My thicc booty. My smelly butthole. My shitter.” Great, he’s a monologging narcissist too. Why did he have to take pleasure in making you his disgusting rear? It made it so much worse. This, in a word, stank. In many respects. “Happy Halloween by the way. I love what you’ve come as, looking like a phat pumpkin. But bro, I think your new look will be more permanent than most costumes. Hahaha.” It was hard to find the humour in what seemed like a twisted horror story come to life.

Brett gropes at you again, his fingers digging into your jiggly, sensitive flesh. Every touch is like pure pleasure coursing through you. His hands pull you apart, parting your giant cheeks and letting light flood your view once more. It only lasts a moment. And then he suddenly lets go, your cheeks immediately clapping back like an elastic rubber band pulled too tight. Your displaced weight bounces against each other and quickly tightens back to firmness against your ‘face’.

You had been fully absorbed into him, adding a bunch of fat to his now enormous butt. Your face nestled between two huge globes of sensitive flesh. He does a few squats, lowering your partially obscured view to the ground and back up again on repeat like hanging from a bungee cord - just to hammer home your helplessness as his living rear end. No longer was he a fratbro, but by definition he was your owner. In the same way a person owned arms and legs, he owned you as a butt.

“Damn boy. Dunno if you’ll fit inside my shorts anymore, you are one XL meat surprise.” He laughs, slapping his booty, causing you to wobble and jiggle comically in the reflection. You don’t think you’ve heard a straight guy talk so much and with such adoration about his own butt. Whether that was a good thing remained to be seen.

It’s really starting to sink in. You’re a literal ass, a toxic fat ass belonging to a toxic straight fuckboy who’s hygiene seems questionable, if not nonexistent. Fuck. What do you even do now, aside from the obvious? Is he gonna wedge a pair of underwear between your clapping cheeks and go about his day like nothing happened?

“Better go over the basics now, won’t have much cause to address you directly going forward, just being a part of my body after all. Like bro, who talks to their butt? To be honest your role as a straight fratboy’s ass is pretty simple. To put it bluntly, your only purpose will be to let out farts and expel my shit. That might seem messed up right now, but you’ll come to look forward to it and savour every instance of use.” Please no, you internally scream. There was no way in hell you would ever enjoy that. This was so fucked up. “Oh, and of course, you’re to remain as tight as humanly possible, cuz nothing is ever gonna penetrate you. Breeding is me and my cocks job. Your pleasure comes from fulfilling…lower needs. Sorry about that bro, but only a minor drawback to the luxury of being my sweaty rear end.” That was genuinely…disappointing. Admittedly, you felt so empty. Like there was just a huge space inside of you ready to be filled. A cock stretching you out wouldn’t be the worst thing. Instead you’d be a fart machine, forced to gulp at his scent and listen to the foul noises leaving your mouth. Rather than being fed dick, you’d only be filled by his half digested meals.

Brett walks around the room, each step causing you to wobble hopelessly from side to side. You hear the unmistakable sound of his stomach rumbling, accompanied by a sensation of bloated fullness filling your body. The humiliatingly familiar feeling gives you a daunting sense of dread at your inevitable fate.

“Of course after I break you in with a few…tasks, that mind of yours will be mushed into nothing more than waste for me to fucking dump. You won’t have much use for it anymore bro. Those thoughts, those personality traits, that stupid sense of individualism. Those misplaced ambitions of being a functioning human being. You will be much better being of service to me, your charming, hot as fuck, straight bro. Each time I use the toilet a little more of you will be gone, until you’re just a mindless dumper - loving every use I have for you. Blissfully serving your purpose. Fuck bruh, that’s gonna be so satisfying…for me.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. There was no way you would lose yourself, your identity. For your mind to be churned and disposed of like it was nothing. And yet the idea was shockingly appealing to your increasingly warped desires. A part of you understood that it wasn’t strange at all, that you were an ass and being used like that was your intended purpose. You were a thing of practicality. A tool. A hole.

And you needed to be emptied.

Brett interrupts your wandering thoughts with more self aggrandising. “But I know you’re a total gay. You probably would love to filled as well huh. You know, by like a big juicy cock or a dildo. Yeah?” Shamefully he was correct. “Well bro, I’ll let you in on a little secret, as long as you don’t tell anyone. Huhuh. But i’m actually bi. Kinda. At least, i’ve fucked a couple of guys before. And honestly they give better head, if you know what I mean.” There was some embarrassing hint of hope sparked by his admission. Maybe he could…play with you. Occasionally. Maybe.

Abruptly, you feel Brett’s fingers pull at your sides, rubbing your surface like some magic lamp. The touching was heavenly. It felt like your cock being treated to the best hand job imaginable. That’s if you still had a cock to call your own. He leans forward, giving his hand better access to you, his fingers now moving within your narrow line of sight - peering out between the two eclipsing spheres that were your cheeks. One finger seems to target your epicentre - your hole. Slowly and pointedly filling your view as it slides between the crack. The tip lightly grazes against your big empty hole, gently stretching the tightened skin around your pleasure centre. Every feeling of embarrassment and shame leaves you. Every thought and feeling other than the pleasure he could give you dissipates. Right now he was everything to you. You would do anything and everything to have him fill you. You would be the best fucking ass imaginable if only he broke that cherry. You would happily let out his toxic gas and be his waste disposal every single day if he would just let you have this one moment of satisfaction. His finger begins to push upon the seal, feeling your ‘mouth’ begin to forcibly open around his intrusion. And then it stopped.

“But i’m only a top.” Brett admits, breaking the news as if someone had died. His finger retracts and an all encompassing sense of emptiness fills your body. “But be a good butthole for me and who knows. Maybe i’ll find it in my heart to reward you. Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe you’ll just have to witness me plowing some other tight ass instead.”

Great. At least his obsession with butts made a bit more sense now. And the idea of him fucking men in your presence was kinda strangely hot. Even if you could only hear and feel him piston in and out. Thrusting you back and forth. Enjoying his sex like some hopeless cuck.

“If it’s any consolation, this whole arrangement is not my idea. All the resident frats here are capable of enhancing themselves in such ways. Using their assigned roommate. Preds or whatever the fuck they call it. And you have the privilege of being my first…volunteer.” You hear him sigh in satisfaction, taking clear pleasure in his conquest over you. And you hated how small it made you feel. How horny your mind went at Brett's abrasive language.

Despite everything, his endless well of confidence was admittedly an attractive trait for you. That imaginary cock would be stiff as a board, if not for the fact you were now just a mound of flesh jutting from his hips.

“See, the frat has limited space and we can’t be seen as exclusionary. Fucking guidelines, you know? So we found a way to satisfy everyone, I get the room to myself, we preds adhere to the rules and you, you get to join the frat and be of appropriate use. Admittedly, most of the frat use their assigned gay to enhance their cock, but what can I say, i’m an assman. I want it fucking big. Pretty sweet deal, eh butt.” The exposition ‘dump’ didn't particularly help you come to accept your new form, particularly because of what said form would undoubtedly involve…

“Bro, I could get used to this power though.” He continues, while pulling a pair of Calvin boxer briefs up his legs. Brett snaps the waistband over your face and buries you in total darkness, suffocating you with the air of your own musky rear scent. Even still, you couldn’t deny the pleasure of the fabric brushing against your skin, digging into your tight crevice as he sits down and splays your girth like a cushion below him. “Ye broski, I could improve my body to be superior in every way. I have a taste for it now, screw those stupid frat rules. ‘Assigned gays only’ my ass.” Some adage about great power and responsibility enters your mind, but you don’t think Brett would fully get the point.

Brett moves again, carrying you in tow as he walks across the room to the door. From infront - or is that now behind, you hear muffled words. “Whatsup bro, how’s your gay working out? That idiot seemed completely oblivious.”

“Pretty good, he actually willingly ate me out, if you can believe it! Take a look.” Your swollen cheeks momentarily part, letting sunlight reach you for a second as your puckered lips stretch open and against your will let out the only noise you are now capable of.

Fbbbtt. You toot, like a sad trumpet. A subtle haze begins to settle upon your thoughts as the stench seeps out, deflating your mind like a balloon. You couldn’t even control yourself, it just happened without a second of consideration. Brett ultimately was in charge of how you would be used. It was hard to come to terms with what had just transpired, what had just left your - for lack of a better term, ‘mouth’. Farting for an audience was such a shameful act, and yet you had no say in it. Worse, you suspected this would be a common occurrence. That this was something you would…get used to.

“Hrhhh, nothing more manly than just fucking letting it all out. Hold on, he can do better.” Brett leans over and pushes you out. The other frat bro is looking down at you in anticipation. You feel that sensation coming on, like a burp rising in your chest, stronger than it was before. You can’t stop it. God, this was gonna su—

Bbbbbrrrrttttttttt! You proclaim, like a proud trombone. The hazy grip upon your physique intensifies. A bit of yourself dislodges from your mind, emptying out your mouth as noxious gas. Poking holes in your brain. Your thoughts filling the room and dissolving into nothing. Both jocks laugh uncontrollably above you. The rank smell settles in front of your face, overwhelming your senses - unable to stop yourself from inhaling his and, or, your farts. It was…satisfying? Like you had achieved some great feat. You were doing your job, fulfilling your purpose. You shouldn’t feel bad about that, should you? It’s just what a butt does. You secretly hoped he was proud of your performance. Darkness quickly takes over again as your cheeks clap back together.

“Nice brah. Butt gays are the best.” You felt weird at how brazenly they talked about you, like you didn’t matter at all. Butt gay, that was you. Coming to terms with that was perversely comforting. “Oh by the way, think your girl is waiting for you outside, dude, she’s wearing these tiny cut-off shorts for her Halloween costume. Tight as F.”

“Dayum. Just a minute. Got something to take care of first. Yeah. Bout to take this dump truck for a test drive, if you catch my drift. Been saving up so he can get a proper good load ready to go. Help loosen up his shit for brains, ready for emptying. That takeaway is his problem now.” You hear what sounded like a fist bump between the two braying jackasses.

“Fuck yeah bruh. Show him your superiority by loosening his pucker up haha!” The other jock shouts before slamming the door closed behind him. What intelligent conversations you can look forward to overhearing, you think, as Bretts underwear covers you back up.

Brett moves about in silence, something that was refreshing considering his long diatribe. That feeling didn’t last long. After a few minutes, the next thing you see is the water of a toilet bowl as your body hangs over it - lowering down upon the seat. You were about to be put to work. To be used. To be…useful to Brett. Suddenly your mind feels so heavy, so burdened. The insatiable need for relief frays the edges of your thoughts. Your intelligence, your personality, your sense of self - all loosening as Brett’s stomach tightens and unfurls

“Open wide, Shitbreath. This dumptruck is about to unload your useless fucking mind.” Brett grunts as you feel your mouth start to stretch apart.

Two weeks later:

“B—Brett. Uhh, how do I say this? Why is your butt so much bigger than it normally is?” You hear the high pitched voice of some guy Brett had invited over. You’re still a bit dazed from the big ‘job’ you had to handle for your owner this morning. Filled with that strange sense of contentment that seems to grow more by the day since becoming his perfect rear. Your mind becoming simpler and empty, enjoying the most basic of pleasures. And getting noticed by other guys only helped to heighten your sense of pride.

“Who knows, too much Halloween candy or some shit. Why, are you jealous? Just shut up and present that little tushy of yours for my fuckstick.”

“Jeez. Why you gotta be toxic like that man.”

“Because we both know it turns you on. Also you’re a dick guy.” With Brett’s nonexistent foreplay out of the way, you feel his hips begin to thrust back and forth. The moaning was clear confirmation of their ‘relationship’. You can do nothing but watch the room zoom in and out of focus as you piston forward and back. “Speaking of, I think my cock could do with some enhancing. Don’t you agree?”

“Ugh, I mean sure. I have no complaints tho—“

“I wasn’t talking to you, future fuckstick. Let’s get you finished quickly so I can cum those pretty boy brains out. Then I need to take a piss with my new cock. You’re gonna be as thick as a fucking paint can.”

Shit, you think, that guy was gonna be so lucky to become just another part of Brett. Unconsciously parting your cheeks, you let out a loud, mind numbing fart while your owner climaxes with his new improved tool.

PPPPPPFFFRRBBBTT

[wakeup01]

Just a reminder that while I’m not posting as much on here at the moment, I am more active over here: https://x.com/wakeup_oli?s=21

Also, here’s a selfie for engagement 😝

[wakeup01]

Ur twitter post about all the things someone whose face you’re sat on can be - it mentions ass eater, underwear, toilet etc.

But you’re forgetting a very important role, Olly. Since that butt IS so perfect, so big and round and bouncy and pert - the perfect arse, the paragon of all behinds - it’s perfect for a tongue to eat it out… and secretly take control.

Wearing away at your resistance, lick by lick, the slow erosion of your brain hard to measure as waves of pleasure lap at your awareness even as your willpower shrinks beneath tonguing like sandstone and boulderclay. Once that big butt has been exploited to turn your head as empty and airy as your cheeks below, then the real work can begin.

Your orders whispered not into your ears but the true most valuable ass-et that you have at your disposal (couldn’t resist such a stupid pun but I spose by now it’s the most intelligent form of humour you can handle - if you even understand the joke, ofc). The shape of the works on the tongue unravelling through your body and programming your actions for the day - a little himbo robot boy programmed daily like a simple machine. Never deviating from your scrips because that would be too complicated.

Big hot empty head, massive empty butt - I guess one of those is my fault but at least I’ll fix the other one for you, one way or another.

Hope you really like your ass being eaten out because it’s happening daily from now on - and you’ll realise that maybe looking down on your face-chair boy is a grave mistake.

(Hope you like it - not a pro like you ofc, but you deserve the effort)

The effort is appreciated, although it would be more meaningful if it wasn’t sent anonymously. And if you spelt my name correctly. It’s Ollie. Not ‘Olly’.

Otherwise, I agree - it’s a fun idea.

[wakeup01]

Hey daddy it’s Oscar x I’d love you to create a character based on me who is rude to some chavs at a park and is grabbed and shoved in to their sweaty biceps, the smell turning him into a proper essex chav

thank you so much x

PARK PIT STOP

How very adorable of you to send me an ask like this boy. And that’s kinda the problem, ‘adorable’, a word hardly befitting a proper lad.

Forget these fucking ‘chavs at the park’, it’s not them you find yourself staring at, it’s me. Obviously. It’s me who has drawn your attention, standing staring at my phone in my Nike fleece set. A chain around my neck and chavvy trainers around my feet. For some reason you can’t seem to look away, stopped dead in your tracks, feet cemented to the ground as your eyes follow my movement. It’s like being in a trance, my aura has somehow hypnotised you, has your brain transfixed. Sure, you liked chavvy lads but you weren’t usually this brazen in your admiration of them. This was dangerous; what if you got caught? Especially someone like you: a cute effeminate twink whose most notable feature was their butt.

Several people in the park push past you, sighing in annoyance as you block the path. At this point it was kinda pathetic, you must have been watching intently for at least five minutes. Something about me was hypnotic, was pulling your attention towards me. The way I casually leaned against the wall, the way I held and spun the phone in my hand. Everything was utterly fascinating, like admiring some exhibit at a museum. It required further study. But then my head rose, my eyes locking with yours. You felt your heart rise in your chest, and yet still, you didn’t move. Didn’t look away.

“The fuck do you want mate?” I yell over to you, enraged, noticing your attention. And then the rage in my face quickly fades, replaced with a knowing smile. A smile that told you something bad was coming your way. “Fucking ey, not another one.” I chuckle. My accent cutting straight through you. Making you shiver in place. Suddenly you felt so small, tiny, like the world around you was towering above you. “Yur the 4th boy this week enchanted by my superior presence. I caught me a cutie an all.” The condescending compliment did more for you than you were willing to admit.

“Wh-what’s happening?” You stutter, frozen to the spot. As I get closer, my musk begins to surround you, clinging to you. It’s intense, a mix of deodorant and sweat circling around you as you continue to stare. “OMG. I’m not some freak, I swear. I can’t move.” You point down at your feet, as if that was going to resolve the situation.

“It’s my scent innit. Potent or sum shit. Just a tiny hint works for sum. I don’t really give a fuck, but it makes weak boys gooey eyed and braindead when near me. Makes them super fucking impressionable.” I explain, relishing the moment. Your eyes widen more with each word that leaves my mouth. “Hahaha! Like, I can reshape their mind into something, you know better.” I watch your expression intently, noticing your attempt to look away while your cheeks blush a crimson red. Your hands squirm at your sides and then erratically move forward in a vain attempt to cover the obvious tenting in your trousers. “Yeh. Bet you wish i’d hold you down, spit in your mouth and make you worship my fuckin’ feet. Ey lad?”

“What! N—no. Not at all.” You blurt out immediately, embarrassed by the insinuation. But at the same time, the suggestion - despite your insistence otherwise, makes your cock twitch. The intense smell pouring out from my body, didn’t help. You could sense it messing with your thoughts, clouding them. It was so strong and…bad? Well, maybe not bad. It was…manly. It was propa. Fit.

“Fam. You look like a keeper. I could do with some stupid fucking beta lad to glaze me and everything I do. A real loyal moron, happy to serve his fit fucking Alpha. How does that sound, shithead?” I smirk, leaning in close.

Wait, what? The remark catches you off guard, knocking some sense back into your thoughts. That sounded awful. You weren’t some chav thicko. “Please. I—I’m not like that. Not that kinda—“

“You’re like some posh fucking twat. Yeh. I’ll fix that mate. You just need one long fucking whiff straight from the source and you’re done. A nice propa pit sniff and yur brain will thicken into chav idiocy faster than you’ll be able to count. That pretty boy face of yours will soon be a right manly mug, it just needs to bathe in my rank sweat for a sec.”

You try your best to move - it really is now or never, but your feet don’t listen. You just happily stand there, shaking like a leaf as I raise my arm into the air. “Oh gawd, I don’t want to be like you. Like sum—some smelly, uneducated crude dunce.” You yell, your voice slightly cracking. It was unlike you to be so overtly insulting, and the slight accent you noticed leaving your mouth was cause for concern.

“That’s it lad. Give into it, my smell is already fixing you. Curing you of intelligence. Just fucking let it.” I step closer again, my arm raised - inching towards your anxious looking face. Your view is slowly being obscured by my armpit, the world around it disappearing. “Any last pathetic words as a nonce before I shove my fucking pit into your face and make you my dumb chav beta?” I stop momentarily, my moist pit hovering in front of you, like the sword of Damocles hanging over your head, ready to strike.

Your eyes dart left and right, unable to escape the horrid view. With a last gulp you open your mouth. “No! I’ll give you any—mphhhhh!” Your words are cut short as my pit plummets towards your open mouth, your tongue getting a full taste of my heady sweat. You can’t stop yourself from swallowing. Swallowing the flavour and feeling it spread inside you, corrupting you. You can feel it, feel it happening. It’s like your mind being stretched thin. Oh shit, you think - it’s being simplified, being made dumber…better. Ey, so much fucking better! It’s intoxicating! It’s lush as fuck! You want more! You open your mouth again and go to town on your new favourite drink, licking and swallowing at my underarm. You can hear me faintly laugh but it doesn’t dissuade you. You had to serve, to please me. It was your place as a basic beta chav. You whiff. You lick. You suck up my stench. And it was fine. Good. Lit as fuck.

My taste consumes you, warps you to my whims, my desires. Every part of you is swarmed by my sweaty scent, becoming part of you. The musk overwhelms and eradicates your pleasant aroma, so that you smell exactly like me, like a lad. You feel your face tingle, feel it contort. Your appearance betrays you. That pretty boyish expression devolves into a dim mannish scowl. Freeing you from manners and charm. That curly hair you spent an hour this morning styling straightens, pulling into a short fringe that perfectly frames your square boxy face and sharp jawline. Your eyes empty of any sign of intellect as the smell clouds and fogs your brain into a pleasurable dumb stupor.

It was all too much, too fast. You had to at least try to pull away, before it was too late, before you were too far gone. I feel you halfheartedly try to struggle under me, your arms lightly pushing at my chest. “Nice try pit pig. But you’re fuckin’ mine now.” I growl, reaching my hand around you. A muffled groan leaves your lips as I forcefully push your head further into my armpit. The consequence is instantaneous. Your tiny frame bulks up as I lean into you, your chest crunching as a small set of abs push against your tight skin. Lower down, your delicate feet explode, stretching exponentially and ripping your socks and shoes. The bottom of your juicy soles ripen immediately, dripping sweat and soaking the tattered cotton under them. You absently wiggle the toes of your new, huge, size 12 musky feet.

I am still not completely satisfied though; you can be better. More able to serve my needs. My hand gropes at your bubble butt, palming it like a basketball. It was adequate. It had room to grow. With a tight squeeze of my fingers, you feel your cheeks expand further in my hands. Expanding like giant bouncy balls. The hefty weight presses tightly against the rear of your trousers. A clear indent of your fat jiggle arse on full display to the world. A true dumper to be proud of.

Satisfied, I finally pull away, revealing the new, doltish you. I admire your different hairstyle, a harsh crop that practically says ‘i’m an idiot’. Your jaw remains slack as you look up at me in adoration. “Woah mate, that was fucking sick amirite?” You slur in a heavy accent, indistinguishable from that effeminate mousey voice you once owned. “I feel right horny.” You remark, crudely as you rub at your crotch.

“Shit bruv. Aren’t you a good fucking lad. I did you a right favour, didn’t I like?” My hand affectionately pats your back. After-all, you were an equal now. Well, no. Not an equal. Far from it, in fact. You were an idiot. But my idiot. Mine to use. Again and again, like the true beta fuckboy you were. “Didn’t I fam?” I repeat, this time more aggressively.

Blinking repeatedly, your eyes lock with mine once again. You pause for a moment, trying to find the right words to say. There’s this lingering feeling that you should refuse. Some distant memory of being smart, educated. That you weren’t acting right. That something had happened to fuck with you, with your personality. You had to speak out against it, push back. Use every ounce of brain power to regain control of…of…of Oscar! That was it, your name. Oscar! Oscar was smart. Cute. It was there, just out of reach. Who you once were, that bubbly, funny twink with a charming smile. You had the words. The words that would undo this, save you. They were on the tip of your tongue. You knew what you needed to say and you were going to shout them out confidently. Just one sentence of—

*burp*

You hear the vile sound leave your mouth. And then the words came. “Fuck ya mate!” The lucid moment passed. Passed out your vulgar mouth and dissolved into nothingness, along with any hint of your past self. Of ‘Oscar’. Guffawing like a monkey, you lift your own pit and give it a deep sniff, enjoying the smell I imparted onto you like a drug.

“Ozzy boy, you’re such a dipshit! The fuck are you wearing? Come on, we need to get down to JD sports and sort you da fuck out. Now.”

“Yeh boss. Whatevs you say.” You agree without thought, nodding along with my words as the pleasant, addictive scent radiates from both our bodies. Now there was no escaping it. It would follow you everywhere you went. Like - you know, a bad smell. Insuring you remain dopey, chavy and subservient.

“Exactly, shit for brains, whatever I say. Serve your Alpha. Let’s see you hit the floor where you belong and kiss my rank fuckin’ feet.” I snap my finger and point down. As if giving a command to a obedient dog.

“Propa lush.” Your thick and slow voice slurs as you fall to your knees in the middle of the public park, lowering your face to my white nike socks. That addictive smell once again overwhelms you. Tells you to submit. To be the beta chav you were always meant to be. Without hesitation, you huff at my feet like they were a bouquet of sweet flowers. Worshipping your Alpha.

By the end of the day you looked like a completely different person: kitted out in new gear, a fresh cut and swaggering like a completely dumb chav.

[wakeup01]

Don't know if you take requests, but I'd love to see the guys from Heartstopper as chavs.

I take suggestions depending on if it sparks a good idea. Unfortunately I don’t write celebrity or fanfic type content. I know it’s a weird line to draw considering the stuff I write, but it feels odd writing kink about real people or characters portrayed by real people when they are unable to consent.

[wakeup01]

Nice haircut. Just imagine the shorter you cut the hair, the more IQ it drains away.

Would you still chose a dope haircut knowing your ‘head don’t have the smarts it once do’? 👀😏

Funny you mention this because I have a story in the works that shares this concept. (Please be excited).

But also, yes. The shorter and more chavvy my hair, the dumber it looks, the dumber I feel. There’s something addictive about that sensation. About giving into the look, of it taking over - influencing your personality and behaviour. Maybe you don’t really notice it, oblivious to the change in how you speak, how you dress, the way you swagger. But it’s there. Calling for you to cut your hair shorter and shorter. Making it look embarrassing and stupid. And yet feeling better and better. The pleasure rewarding the decision every time you enter a barber. Soon enough you’re rocking a buzzcut with a thick, dense skull. A fat cock down below and pure emptiness on top. Maybe you should try it. Should join me.

Bruv, it’ll feel so fuckin gud.

[wakeup01]

If you’re offering haircuts I’d gladly take dumb TikTok fuckboy hair, bro~

You mean ‘mushroom’ hair. Short back and sides with a huge puffy volume on top. Weighing heavy on your mind. Squeezing your skull; condensing those needless thoughts. Give me a minute and i’ll have you sorted.

There. Perfect. It looks dumb and cringey and is a telltale sign of being a narcissistic attention seeker. With hair like this, you don’t need to worry about anything. Now open your favourite app, set up the camera and get ready to perform embarrassing skits for internet clout. Oh yeah, and don’t forget to show off your body, after all, that’s the real reason people are watching.

[wakeup01]

It’s summer haircut time 😌

Want me to do yours next?

[wakeup01]

Hey there, lately university has been so overwhelming and stressful for me. It feels like I am constantly busy, always running from one deadline to the next, and honestly, I just want to relax for once. There’s this deadline coming up, and even though I know I need to work on that stupid project, all I really want is to spend my weekend relaxing not thinking about it for a while.

Maybe you could help me with that? Just make me forget about that damn project for a bit, even if it’s just for a few hours. I do know I will have to get back to it eventually, but right now, I could really use a break.

The Test

Well of course I can help, you just have to understand that my patented assistance comes with…let’s just say ‘drawbacks’. A cost. You get what you want, and I have my fun.

The clock strikes 12. Midnight already. You lean back and listen to the rain patter against your window; A frustrated sigh leaves your mouth. Rubbing your tired eyes, you stare blearily at the mere 200 words sitting on the page. There goes another night working on coursework, you think. Another whole week wasted stressing about this University project. It’s not as though it was even hard - for the likes of you, but it was tedious. You needed a break. A holiday even, but you’d settle for a weekend. But no, deadlines won’t wait for your motivation to be resuscitated. However, maybe there was another option…

Recently, you’ve heard about the University you attend offering some new scheme, one that allowed the brightest students to find an immediate work placement. To no surprise, you had been one of the select few that had been offered the chance to enrol in the program. The idea behind it was suspiciously simple. Participants are evaluated to see where their skills would be most useful. How they would best serve society at large. Something you were still personally trying to figure out. On the other hand, places were keen to hire young talent as soon as possible. So, there are gaps that big companies are desperate to fill, and you, you’re desperate to be done with the study grind. At 22 years old, you were ready to move on from classrooms and teachers. All you had to do was agree and complete a simple test. If you passed you would be offered a job matching your qualifications immediately. Why not, you thought. Admittedly, you felt a tinge of guilt at the prospect of basically ‘cheating’ your way through the rest of Uni, but you had worked hard - hard enough to deserve this. Entitled to it, even.

After some consideration, you sign up to the program and are given a room number to take the test. Entering, you notice a slight humming sound that seemed to thrum periodically across the room. You sit at a desk in front of an outdated computer, alongside around a dozen other students. Each station looked identical. It then became clear that the weird noise was emanating from the PC. It was odd, you knew the University had top of the line equipment, and yet, here sat a CRT monitor with a tangle of wires spooling across the surface of the desk. It was certifiably archaic, almost an archeological find. You squint at the base, struggling to make out the brand name etched into the side…‘L.A.D’. The model number had mostly faded and was therefore unreadable. Shrugging, you press the large button, causing a low pitched screech to affront your ears. The green tinted screen slowly comes to life, loading as if connected via dial-up. The lights overhead are dimmed, leaving only a hint of light streaking across an adjacent wall. A lone sun-ray slipping between the window shades. Sat here surrounded by other accomplished students, you feel slightly nervous, but, you’re confident that you should be able to pass with no issues.

An ominous greenish hue fills the whole room while the computers come to life. Pulling your chair forwards, the glow reflects eerily off your face, imitating a scene you might see in some trashy Sc-fi film. Text - shuddering erratically, begins to appear across the screen one letter at a time.

WELCOME TO ‘THE TEST’

The screen read plainly, with a prompt to continue. Honestly, this was not what you expected. Something seemed off about the whole setup. But despite your reservations - using the chunky mouse, you press the icon to proceed. The loud clicking of mice circles the room as everyone initiates the test.

ENTER NAME…

> DAVID

You type your name in with the slightly yellowed keyboard, each press producing a satisfying clack. Again, you click to continue and after a slight pause are greeted by the next screen.

THANK YOU [NAME]

WE WILL NOW TAKE A PHOTO FOR REFERENCE. HOLD STILL.

A sudden bright flash knocks you off guard. You hadn’t noticed the web cam sitting atop the monitor, but the resulting photo slowly loaded onto the screen. It was you all right. In all your, well, admittedly nerdy glory. But still, you looked good - well kept. A ‘pretty’ boy, some might say. Your long hair sat neatly, combed and parted down the centre. The collar on your shirt was perfectly pressed into place, with the buttons done up all the way to the top. As was appropriate. Despite your unawareness, the camera had managed to capture a warm and affable smile that helped represent your likeable but timid nature.

Without prompting, the computer sputtered and pressed on - your photo dissolving into a hundred pixels.

QUESTION 1:

WHAT IS THE IDEAL WORK UNIFORM

> _ _ _ _ _ _

Odd question you thought, odder still was the fact the answers were multiple choice. You scoff at a couple of the options. Who on earth would choose that? This one was easy: you click the third option and watch the letters flicker into place. The computer beeps in satisfaction.

> WHITE DRESS SHIRT

The test continues like this, the silence of the room only punctuated by the sound of a dozen keyboards. Oh and the humming noise. That indistinct but all encompassing throb. The humming that seemed to be perpetually getting louder the more answers you gave. But you barely paid it any mind, focused instead on the words the computer put forth.

QUESTION 12:

WHAT DID YOU DREAM ABOUT BEING AS A CHILD?

At this point you really doubted how these basic questions would ascertain your qualifications for a job. But answering them diligently gave a strange sense of satisfaction, a little rush of endorphins as the computer beeped back at every response. Validating your answers.

You look over the choices: WRITER, TECHNICIAN, PROGRAMMER, BINMAN, ACCOUNTANT. Your hand hovers over the mouse. Sweat forms across your forehead. You stare at the words again, your eyes glancing over the options again and again. BINMAN. The hum buzzed louder than ever, infiltrating your thoughts. BINMAN.

> BINMAN

Your answer flashes on the screen in large letters, plain as day. You look at it in horror - that’s not what you wanted, it was a misclick! Undo! Your cheeks flush bright red as the computer tells you that your dream was to be a binman. It should have bothered you more, but honestly, you were feeling too relaxed to get all that annoyed by the mistake.

WELL DONE LAD

The computer tells you, somewhat patronisingly. You barely acknowledge the remark, opting to move onto the next question. You’re so preoccupied, you don’t notice as you slouch forward, your back bending you closer to the screen.

QUESTION 13:

WHAT IS THE IDEAL WORK UNIFORM

Wait, didn’t you answer this already? Ugh, why couldn’t you remember fully? The loud persistent humming was effecting your concentration. Your focus and attention span was slipping. Shrinking. The hazy pleasant hum was echoing in your mind. Growing.

You stopped overthinking your answers, instead just choosing the first thing that came into your head. It felt freeing to not have to care so much. You nodded back at the answer you made.

> HI-VIS GEAR

‘Yeah, that’s the dream’ you think in a daze, imagining how good you’d look. In response to your choice, the computer pulsed brightly, bathing you in a warm glow. The hum yet again bore deeper into your mind. Bouncing around your skull. You didn’t notice though, just like you didn’t notice how your smart collared shirt was being swapped for a high vis vest. It’s bright florescent material hanging over a black polo shirt. Lower down, your slacks loosened, becoming a pair of baggy grey joggers that sagged around your waist - showing off the tight boxer briefs that cupped your noticeable bulge.

Looking around, you see the clothes on other students changing before your very eyes. Their appearance becoming starkly out of place at such a prestigious University. They looked a lot more like, well, chavs. A fact that would normally be alarming, but your head felt like it was in a cloud. The guy beside you shuddered as his beanie expanded into a rigid hard hat. Honestly, it looked good on him. Your outfit change, however, wasn’t yet finished. Those shiny dress shoes you were so proud of reshaped around your growing feet. A couple of tacky and ostentatious trainers were left in their place, wrapped tightly around your huge size 13 soles. The scent of foot sweat wafted up and filled the air around you. Adding to the overwhelmingly musky stench that was radiating from the other changing nerds around you. But you didn’t mind. It smelt manly. It was…propa.

QUESTION 17:

WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE LEISURE ACTIVITY

> FOOTIE

QUESTION 18:

NAME YOUR FAVOURITE BRAND

> NIKE

The test continued. As did the glow, as did the hum, as did the…changes. Swoosh logos marked you like a walking advert, football strategies filled your mind. Your hand absently rubbed at the bulge between your legs. But more and more, It was getting harder to read the questions at all. Let alone give good answers. You squint as the letters blur together on the screen. Your mind struggling to parse the sentences. Fumbling over the meaning of certain words. Why was this so tough? They used too many long words. Luckily, the computer seemed to notice your struggle and started to amend itself to be easier to understand. Compensating for your needs.

And then the next question hit, as if the test had read your mind.

QUESTION 23:

HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOUR INTELLIGENCE (SMARTS) ?

> LOW

That’s it. That’s all you put, you didn’t second guess it. In fact you didn’t have to give it any thought at all. LOW. That’s just what it was, what it is. You had a low…umm…smarts. Something the machine quickly agreed with.

YOU HAVE LOW SMARTS

It was pointed and factual. And then the changes came. You could feel it, your head fully emptying. Everything being taken, absorbed into the computer. Words, concepts, years of study and education. Your shy nature, your subtle charm. It took it all. All you were left with is vulgarity and slang. With self obsessed obnoxiousness. With proud, childish idiocy and crude toilet humour. The incessant low hum of the computer had claimed you, had thickened your head and skull to blissful dullness. It would have been scary, losing everything you worked so hard for, if not for the fact it felt so good. It made you hard. Made your cock stiffen, rising against the underside of the desk. Fuck, it felt so good. Your eyes stared out, glassy eyed as you casually thrust your groin back and forth against the bottom of the wooden desk. The guy beside you had the same idea, his mouth slack as his tenting tracksuit fucked the desk. The subtle creaking sound filled the room as one by one each ‘student’ joined in. It was wholly embarrassing, but not enough for you to dare stop the intense pleasure.

QUESTION 24:

WORK OUT YOUR NEW IQ - WHAT IS 23 TIMES 12 DIVIDED BY 3

“Uh wot?” You say out loud, before remembering the test was not in fact oral, and that you had to find the letters to convey your stupidity. ‘Oral’, you repeat, snickering to yourself. You attempt to read the question several times, to no avail. You just didn’t know. You didn’t need to know. It didn’t matter.

> DONT NO

You slowly type, not noticing the glaring typo. The computer beeps, accepting it as a valid answer. A shiver of pleasure rewards you. Even still, you were getting bored of the questions, they made your head feel heavy. At this point you couldn’t even remember what the test was for. Why was a dolt like you even taking a stupid fucking exam?

QUESTION 25:

WHAT ONE WORD WOULD PEOPLE USE TO DESCRIBE YOUR APPEARANCE?

> CHAVVY

You sit and smirk, happy with your answer as the computer makes its final adjustments. Your flat stomach crunches, compressing as if 1,000 press-ups had occurred in the span of 5 seconds. Lean, fit muscle pushed out from your flesh. Your heavily neglected physique compacted into a walking thirst trap. A body for selfies, for narcissistic indulgence. It existed for ‘aesthetics’, to show off at anyone who would afford a glance. Without even a chance to react, your cock thickens - pushing out against your joggers. Blood rushing as its length expands, girth widens. Heavy balls drop between your legs, making you push your legs apart.

Nothing about you was spared as the changes rose; your neck cracking - thickening like a drainpipe. That kind-hearted face your friends recognised distorted, squaring out your facial features as you take on a more brutish appearance. A wide nose sitting under heavy brows, with a dim expression that betrayed no sense of humility or intellect. Your hair followed suit; the long locks pulling back into your thick skull; your scalp tingling at the strange sensation. Each strand receded until a tiny pathetic fringe sat at the top of your wide forehead, with the back and sides completely shaved. It made your head appear so much larger, like it was bulging at the top. Ironic considering how empty your head actually was. Similarly, your ears stuck out way more with your sides smooth, with thick tacky diamonds pierced into each lobe. Simply put, the trim looked awful - like it had been cut by some amateur, and yet, it perfectly suited you. Perfectly suited a basic chav.

Like bruv. There was something about it, looking this way. Like a walking stereotype. A chav. A scally. And not one of those fake influencer chavs that were actually rich. Fucking posers. But a classic, no nonsense, council estate - ‘u wot m8’, type of lad. The ones you used to avoid in the street. A part of you knew that you should hate this. That it was humiliating looking like what the old you would have called a ‘moron’. Having shit for brains innit. With a face that looked like a talking cockhead. But instead, it just turned you on more. You wanted people to think of you that way, to see you as an obnoxious chav. To be annoying. Untalented, unskilled. With zero fucks to give. To be able to say and do what you like. For people to judge you based on appearance. Fuck, it made you so fucking horny.

You felt complete. Whole. It didn’t matter to you that the computer had stolen away your nerdy identity, siphoned your education and intelligence for some unknown reason. Twenty two years of your life condensed and easily extracted by a bunch of spaghetti code in a machine. Its internal system was now far smarter because of you, far smarter than you were, at the very least. ‘Machine learning’ is what people called it. The only cost was everything your overflowing brain had to give. However, your head was now far too dense to even begin to worry - or comprehend, such things. Besides, it could take all that useless shit. You didn’t want it. Didn’t want the baggage that came with knowledge and ambitions. Frankly, it had done you a huge favour leaving you like this. Dimming you like a light bulb. Drawing away your energy. Leaving the whole class of students as fit as fuck lads. You were all better off this way. Stripped of the illusion that you were someone of importance. That you would make something of your life. That you were intellectually superior. Jesus, you were so horny. A propa wank was what you needed right now. To shoot a fat load.

WELL DONE [L.A.D SUBJECT 1064].

YOU HAVE SUCCESSFULLY COMPLETED THE TEST.

NEW NAME FOUND. NOW REGISTERING [KIERAN] INTO JOB DATABASE.

The camera flashed again, but this time you didn’t so much as flinch. Your mind was too sluggish to react. And there it appeared, the new you, plain as day across the screen. Superimposed over the old pretty boy picture that was taken at the start, and then enlarged to fill your whole view. Scan-lines flicker over your distinctly dim looking visage. Your vacant eyes staring back at you through a grid of fuzzy pixels. ‘Pretty’ or ‘cute’ would be the last words used to describe you now. ‘Doltish’ was a more appropriate term. Doltish. Slow. Dimwitted.

CONGRATULATIONS [KIERAN]. YOU ARE ELIGIBLE FOR JOB [BINMAN].

PLEASE USE THE MOUSE TO SIGN THIS WORK PLACE AGREEMENT.

There was a scroll of text that flew by on the screen. You didn’t attempt to read a word. You couldn’t. It was too much, seeing your new name, what you now looked like; you quickly scribble your signature and immediately cum into your boxers. Eyes rolling back. Your hefty balls ejecting what was left of ‘David’. Grunting loudly to the rest of the room. Hearing your colleagues occasionally make the same dull noise, as they too become nothing more than a chav moron. That was what you were after all, you accepted. Being dumb suited you. It was fun. Much more so than studying at least. After all, you worked with your hands, not your head. Mucking in and getting filthy was part of the new job. Thoughts were merely a distraction. You smirked as your cum soaked into your joggers and dripped onto the floor.

“Mate! Binman! That’s fuckin sick innit! Propa sound! I must be well smart to pass this dumb fucking thing.” You yell like some neanderthal, while a smug expression plasters your face.

WELL DONE [INTELLECTUALLY CHALLENGED CHAV]

THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE TO HELP IMPROVE OUR SYSTEM.

YOUR DATA WILL BE PUT TO GOOD USE.

YOUR EMPLOYER IS WAITING FOR YOU OUTSIDE.

PLEASE LEAVE AND REPORT FOR YOUR FIRST DAY AT YOUR NEW LIFE. ENJOY.

“Yea.” You merely grunt in affirmation and give a cheeky middle finger to the screen. Getting up you switch the computer off, fist bump your mate next to you and swagger out of the room. And yet, the hum in your thickened head persisted. It just stayed there - stuck inside your thoughts. Whatevs, you think - adjusting your joggers as they barely cling to your hips, a clear wet patch staining the front. Time to get to work, innit!

Now, I know you said you only wanted a short break, Kieran. But I think you’re better staying this way. Dumb. Chavvy. Your personality as sophisticated as a horny bull. And your only talent being emptying bins. At least now you won’t have to worry about that project again. The only ‘project’ you might have to be concerned with is emptying the works porta potty. And even then you’ll probably enjoy getting your hands dirty. Isn’t that right you filthy smelly chav lad?

[davidchavlover]

I’ve always taken on the role as a dominant Alpha; had a bunch of beta lads follow my lead. But my other chavvy mates have implied that they’ve had enough of me thinking i’m better than them. Had enough of serving my every whim. They seem to suggest that they can take me down a peg. Make me even more of a beta than they are, if that’s even possible. I overhead some remark about giving me a ‘tight bubble butt’ and a ‘change of clothing’.

Not that i’m too worried mind, those dipshits with all their brain power combined wouldn’t be able to organise a thing. And besides i’m far more assertive than those basic chav lads, there’s no chance in fucking hell I’d end up serving them. It’s proper hilarious they think they can try though, right?

You shouldn’t have been so arrogant. Maybe if you hadn’t strutted around like you owned the place, if you hadn’t sneered at the lads every time they cracked a joke, if you hadn’t acted like you were better than them, maybe then they wouldn’t have felt the need to put you in your place. But it is too late for regrets now.

The invitation had seemed normal. Josh had texted you in the evening: "Come over, mate. Just a few drinks. The lads are here." Nothing unusual. You had done this a hundred times before - drinks, banter, maybe a bit of fun with the lads.

At first, everything was normal. You cracked a few jokes, took a few swigs, but something felt… off. Your vision blurred faster than it should have. Your limbs grew heavy, your thoughts sluggish. Had you really drunk that much already? You tried to shake the fog from your mind, but your body wasn’t listening. The room tilted. The last thing you saw before the darkness swallowed you was the lads closing in their hands pulling at your clothes.

You woke up disoriented. The first thing that hit you was the smell. It clung to your skin. It was sweet and fruity. Not the musky cologne you always wore, not the faint sweat of a night out. This was something delicate, feminine.

You were in bed. The sheets were soft. You reckoned they must have brought you to a guest room after you had passed out. Panic flared as you tried to sit up, only to feel the cold bite of metal around your wrists. Handcuffs. Your breath came in ragged gasps as you thrashed, kicking the blanket away. Your body was different. Your arms, once lean but strong, were now slender, dainty. Your skin was smooth, hairless, almost glowing in the dim light. And to your shock there was a cage on your dick. A scream tore from your throat. It was high-pitched and not your voice at all.

The door creaked open. Josh stood there, arms crossed, grinning. "Not feelin’ so cocky now, are ya, princess?"

Your blood ran cold.

"Me an’ the lads reckoned you needed teachin’ a lesson," he continued, stepping closer. His fingers trailed along your bare leg, making your skin crawl. "So we made you into somethin’ a bit more… fun."

"W-what did you do to me?!"

Josh chuckled, pulling a small vial from his pocket. Liquid swirled inside, pink and shimmering. "Just a little serum. Made you more agreeable." He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "Don’t stress, bruv… by the time we’re done, you won’t even wanna kick off."

You screamed again, thrashing wildly, but he grabbed you and held you down while he emptied the serum into your mouth. Darkness swallowed you once more. But next time you woke up… You wouldn’t resist.

The golden light of evening spilled through the curtains as consciousness crept back in. You blinked slowly, your mind hazy, your body warm and pliant. You looked down at yourself. You were dressed in an oversized pink tee and some briefs. The realization of what you were wearing should have sent you into a panic. But instead, a different kind of feeling was low in your stomach. You shifted on the couch, thighs pressing together and God, you were so fucking horny.

Your fingers twitched, craving touch, craving a man to please. The lads would be here soon. Josh had promised. And they would use you, just like they always did. The thought made your pulse skip, your breath hitching in anticipation.

Wait… Always? A flicker of confusion cut through the fog. You tried to grasp at it, to remember… but your mind felt slippery. There were flashes - laughter, sneers, your voice, loud and arrogant - but they didn’t feel like yours anymore. Just distant echoes of someone else.

Now you knew you had never been the leader. You had never been one of the lads at all. You were Josh’s. His toy. His good little thing to share with his mates when they fancied a fuck. The knowledge settled into your bones, warm and right, like it had always been that way.

A mirror hung on the opposite wall. You caught your reflection - pouty lips, wide eyes, a delicate frame. Your hair was softer now, fluffier, and lighter in colour. You looked cute.

You squirmed, biting your lip. The fabric of your briefs was damp already from your precum. You couldn’t wait for them to get here. Couldn’t wait for Josh to grab you by the hips and remind you what you were for.

"Look who’s finally awake," Josh grinned, stepping inside with the others behind him. His gaze raked over you, lingering where your thighs squeezed together. "Missed us, princess?"

You nodded, breathless and started to undress for them.

______________________________________________________________

I hope you enjoy your new life as a twinky toy for your new owner. That nice bubble butt will definitely be used tonight, and I think your new clothes fit you way better anyways…

[wakeup01]

Mmm. Gosh I feel so submissive and…like, agreeable. I hope me and my big bubble butt please Josh and the boys. It feels great to be used and told what to do! So much easier than when I had to be in charge and make decisions. That was like super boring, being fucked repeatedly is far more fun. Hehe.

(First pic is really me, but unfortunately the second is not)

[wakeup01]

What are your thoughts on pup play and being someone's dumb pup/caring for a dumb pup?

While I probably wouldn’t be able to commit to either side, pups are fun. So happy and eager to please their owner, without a single thought of their own.

I don’t write that much of it, but I do enjoy a decent amount of furry kinks. The idea of being turned into someone’s dumb obedient dog is pretty hot. Your body forcing you down onto all fours, the humiliation of looking up at what used to be your human equal. Only able to bark your frustrations as your human mind simplifies. Thoughts turning to base instincts. Being marked as property when a collar is fastened around your neck, with a cute little tag showing your new doggy name. Your owner showing you your place by getting you to sit and beg on command. And then of course, being rewarded, getting called a ‘good boy’.

Wouldn’t you want to be a good boy? A good obedient dog?