Swaps/Tf/Hypno/Gaining

20 M | My repost blog for Body swaps, Transformations (Physical, Mental, Inanimate), Hypnosis/Mind Control, Gaining and more shit that I find hot! DMs always open so feel free to chat bros! (Not me in PFP)

[str8brostink]

the results of a str8 dude drinking coffee

[willyrepostswaps]

Fuckkkkk, with the fit toooo

[zachghost770]

DALTONS GETTING GOONY

AI GENERATED STORY

The mall buzzed with weekend energy—groups of teens loitered, couples strolled with shopping bags, and music spilled faintly from stores. But Stretch wasn’t interested in any of that. He’d been slinking through the ventilation ducts, invisible, watching, hunting. And then he saw him.

Dalton.

An 18-year-old walking wet dream. Shirtless under an open flannel, tight gym shorts that clung to his bubble butt like shrink wrap, and cheap black flip-flops slapping against the tile as he walked with zero urgency and zero thoughts. Blonde tousled hair. Smooth tan skin. A pair of big, blue, dumb puppy eyes. The definition of a Gen Z himbo—vacuous, horny, and built to be taken.

He stood in line for a pretzel, lips parted, scrolling aimlessly through TikTok on his phone, abs flexing as he shifted his weight. And Stretch could already tell—this boy was ripe. No resistance. No thoughts. Just meat.

Time to move.

Stretch slithered off the duct in a haze of smoke, invisible to the world as he zeroed in on Dalton. The boy yawned, thick tongue curling in his mouth as he stretched one arm lazily—his throat wide open. Perfect. Stretch surged forward with a distorted whisper:

"Oooopen wiiide, pretty boy…"

Dalton blinked, then gagged—eyes bulging as a thick, ghostly tentacle of Stretch’s essence jammed down his throat. His flip-flops scraped the tile as his legs kicked, mouth stuck open, the ghost stuffing deeper and deeper down his gullet. His flannel flew open, abs tensing and flexing uncontrollably. Dalton let out a wet, guttural "HRRRRK—!" before his whole body jerked and froze mid-spasm.

Then silence.

Dalton slowly lowered his arms. One flip-flop slid off slightly. He blinked.

Then smirked.

“Unnngh, yeeeahh, now that’s a fuckin’ ride,” he muttered with a chuckle—Stretch’s voice layered beneath Dalton’s dumb bro tone. He looked down at his new tan, muscular arms, then groped both pecs, giggling as he made them bounce.

“Holy shit, this flesh puppet’s perfect. Mmmff—tight lil bod, jiggly ass, and ohhh my fuckin’ god—”

He slapped his own bubble butt through the tight shorts, watching the ripple with awe. “I own this ass now? I’m gonna destroy it.”

He caught a glimpse of himself in a glass storefront and did a little bounce, biting his lip and puffing his cheeks.

“Bro… I can make such dumb fuckin’ faces…”

Stretch turned the body left and right, sticking out his tongue, crossing his eyes, flexing abs while drooling down his chin. “OHH yeah, I’m gonna goon so hard in this meat.”

With his cock swelling and balls already aching with a load, Stretch stumbled toward the nearest bathroom, one flip-flop half-off, a dopey grin plastered on Dalton’s face.

Inside the public restroom, Stretch locked the disabled stall, yanked the shorts down, and moaned.

Dalton’s cock sprang free—thick, veiny, fully hard, dripping pre like a faucet. And beneath it, those massive balls. Stretch let out a whistle.

“No wonder this fucker’s always horny—this cock’s a fuckin’ cannon.”

He pulled the shorts all the way off, stepping out and flexing in the mirror. The flip-flops stayed on. Of course.

“Yeahhh, keep the fuckin’ flops on… keep that dumb slut energy…”

Stretch posed, cock bobbing, and grabbed his own cheeks, spreading them, laughing breathlessly.

“Look at this slutty bubble butt… UUUNNNGH!”

He dropped to his knees, tongue lolling, as he jacked the fat meat slowly with both hands, watching himself in the stall’s scratched mirror. Dalton’s face was flushed, mouth open wide in a moaning ‘O’, eyes rolled up.

“This kid’s got hyperspermia, doesn’t he?” Stretch panted. “His cock’s leaking and I’ve been in here two fuckin’ minutes…”

He leaned back against the toilet, legs spread, flip-flops planted wide as he went full gooner mode.

“Yehhh bro… look at me… I’m just a dumb 18-year-old cumdump… nothin’ but meat, meat, meat…”

He stroked faster, moaning, balls bouncing between his thighs. Drool started slipping down his chin as he locked eyes with the mirror.

“UNNNGH—fuck—this face—fuckin’ beautiful—watch me cum, bro…”

And then it hit.

Dalton’s whole body spasmed. Stretch howled.

“OOOOHHH FUUUCKKKK—!!!”

SPLRRRRTTTT—!

Cum shot everywhere. Across his abs, onto his thighs, dripping from his chest. He pumped again—

SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT!

Thick, pearly ropes sprayed the inside of the stall like a Jackson Pollock painting of pure depravity. Stretch was laughing between moans, drooling openly now, tongue out, face twisted into a blissed-out, slutty mess.

“AHAHAH—BRO—THIS DICK’S MAGICAL!” he cried, still jerking, still cumming. “He just keeps going!”

Ten seconds. Fifteen. Twenty. Still spurting.

Stretch choked out moans, writhing, muscles twitching uncontrollably as he rode the never-ending orgasm, cum splashing over the toilet seat, dripping from the stall door.

He looked into the mirror again, eyes wide, tongue out, spit and cum running down his chin, flexing his abs as he shot again.

“Yeahhh, look at you, Dalton… you’re mine now… and we’re gonna make this a daily ritual, slut.”

Stretch collapsed onto the floor, cock twitching, drooling on the tile, giggling dumbly.

“I ain’t never leavin’ this body…”

PART 2: LETS EXPERIMENT

The door to Dalton’s apartment slammed shut behind him with a lazy slap of his flip-flop. Stretch stretched his new host’s arms overhead, bones popping, pecs flexing, a smug grin spreading across Dalton’s pretty-boy face. His bubble butt peeked from under his gym shorts, damp from the sticky load he still hadn’t cleaned up from the mall bathroom earlier.

He dragged his fingers through his own golden-blonde hair and dropped onto the couch with a thick squelch. His shorts were soaked, and so was the cushion.

“Heh… damn, this kid’s body’s a fountain,” Stretch chuckled, patting Dalton’s jizz-plastered cock through the tight fabric. “Can’t believe how much he cums—fuckin’ hyperspermic slut…”

His eyes glazed over a little as his cock twitched just from saying it. Stretch yanked Dalton’s shorts down in one quick move, letting the thick, veiny cock slap up against his toned stomach, still leaking like a broken faucet.

“Alright, bro… let’s test the limits, yeah?”

He kicked his legs up, bare soles flopping onto the coffee table, flip-flops dangling from his toes. His bubble butt spread across the seat, cock pointed up and ready. In one hand? A fat glass measuring cup from the kitchen. In the other? A bottle of lube that was already halfway empty.

“Let’s see how much juice you really got, Dalton…”

Stretch began stroking.

Slow. Teasing. Biting his lip, he angled the measuring cup right under the head of that hyperspermic monster, whispering in Dalton’s own breathy voice.

“Fill it up, bro… be a good cumslut science project for Daddy Stretch…”

Dalton’s body reacted like it had been waiting for this. Balls tightening. Cock twitching. Veins bulging. His tongue hung out as his back arched. His tan feet scrunched on the table, flip-flops dropping off with a thud.

Then it hit.

“HRRRRAAAHHHH—FUUUUUCKKKK!!”

SPLAT. SPLAT. SPLAT.

Cum exploded from his cockhead, slamming into the bottom of the glass with brutal force, instantly coating the sides with thick white. The measuring cup shook in his grip as the sheer pressure made his wrist jolt.

Stretch’s face twisted into a slutty, unhinged grin. Eyes crossed. Drool dripping. He was giggling as the cup filled.

“Damn bro, you’re gonna overflow,” he gasped, edging harder, watching the creamy flood rise to the 100ml mark, then 200, then 300…

“OHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCK—BRO—THIS IS NUTS!”

SPLURRRRRRTTTT—!!

He overflowed it. Cum oozed down his hand, dripping onto the floor. Stretch dropped the cup and leaned forward, gasping, panting, cum still pouring from his swollen cock.

“New record…” he moaned.

He brought the measuring cup to his lips and gulped. A huge mouthful. Groaned. Then licked the rim.

“Bro’s got flavor, too…”

Experiment #2: Distance Test.

Stretch stood in the kitchen, still naked except for his flip-flops, gripping his cock like a firehose.

He aimed at the white wall.

“C’mon, Dalton… let’s repaint this bitch.”

Stroke. Stroke. Veins bulged along his arm, pecs flexing as he braced himself.

“NGGHH—RRRGHH—YEAH BRO—FUCKIN’—GOON BLAST!!!”

SPLAAAAT!

First shot hit the wall. Second arced across the microwave. Third splashed the floor. He stumbled, laughing, cum dripping off every surface.

He grabbed a Sharpie and marked the wall where the biggest load hit.

“Seven… fuckin’… feet,” he cackled. “You’re a cum sniper, Dalty boy.”

Experiment #3: “What Happens If I Edge for an Hour?”

Stretch laid back on the bed, setting up his camera, flip-flops crossed at the ankles, chest heaving, cock leaking nonstop onto a towel. Timer ticking on his phone.

He edged slow, whispering dirty talk to himself.

“Just a dumb science experiment, bro… turn your brain off… feel the cum boil…”

He slapped his thighs. Thrust his hips. Made Dalton’s sluttiest faces in the mirror. Crossed eyes, tongue out, drool string bouncing off his chin.

“Bro I’m gonna paint the fucking ceiling—nnnnggghhh!!”

Exactly one hour later?

BOOOOM—!!

The first blast shot past his head and smacked the headboard. He screamed in ecstasy, stroking furiously as wave after wave of cum drenched his chest, face, feet, and pillows.

“FUUUUUUCKKKK—BRO—IT’S IN MY HAIR!!!”

Experiment #4: “How many times in one day?”

Stretch lost count after nine.

His balls ached. His cock never fully went down. Every cumshot felt like pissing out a gallon of sticky white heat.

By the twelfth goon, he was cackling with joy.

“I fuckin’ broke this body, bro… Dalton’s just a walking cum volcano now…”

He rolled onto his side, eyes fluttering, covered in drying jizz, kissing his own shoulders and licking his fingers.

“Tomorrow, I’m testing what happens if I don’t cum for two days…”

He chuckled darkly.

“Bet I could flood the whole fuckin’ apartment.”

PART 3: SLUTTY DALTON HAS ARRIVED

It started with a Craigslist post.

18yo bro. Tan. Tight bubble butt. Home alone. Flip-flops on. Door’s unlocked. Come dump your load.

No name. No face. Just that. And within minutes of Stretch hitting “Post,” replies started pouring in.

But he didn’t care about names. Didn’t want bios. Didn’t want pleasantries.

He wanted anonymous cock inside the dumb, jizz-hungry body of Dalton—the tight-bodied, hyperspermic, 18-year-old flip-flop bro Stretch had possessed two days earlier and completely ruined.

He prepped the apartment like a goon altar.

Living room cleared. Rug pushed aside. A towel—already crusted from earlier experiments—laid out in the center. Mirrors positioned on every angle. Lights dimmed. Porn playing on mute. The air thick with sweat, poppers, and intent.

Stretch in Dalton’s body stood in the center of it all. Shirtless. Tanned. Flexing in the mirror with his cock leaking already, thick ropes of pre running down those muscled thighs. He wore nothing but a backwards cap and his black flip-flops.

“Goddamn, I’m the perfect little brohole,” Stretch moaned through Dalton’s voice, gripping that juicy bubble butt and spreading it in the mirror. “Let ‘em take me, bro. Use me. Dump it deep.”

He left the door unlocked.

First knock.

Stretch didn’t even answer. Just turned his back to the entrance and bent over on all fours, cock swinging between his legs, tongue out, flip-flops flexed on the hardwood as he wiggled his ass in slow, needy motions.

The door creaked open. A man’s breath caught.

Stretch heard him whisper, “Oh… fuck…” before the sound of a zipper sliding down filled the air.

Dalton’s possessed body shivered in anticipation.

The man didn’t say a word. Just dropped to his knees and slammed his cock in.

“NNNGHHHFFFUCKKKKYESSS!” Stretch screamed, head whipping back, drool flying from his lips as his hole got filled instantly. “Use me, bro! Fuckin’ split me open!”

The man did.

Hard. Grunting. Slamming into Dalton’s bubble butt like he’d paid for the privilege. Stretch moaned louder with every thrust, hands gripping the towel beneath him as his cock started leaking again, untouched.

“Yessir, yessir, use my fuckin’ brohole—fuck me dumb, bro—FILL ME—”

SPLURT.

He felt the first load shoot inside. Hot. Thick. Sloppy.

The man grunted and pulled out wordlessly, zipping up and walking out as fast as he came in.

Stretch collapsed onto his side, tongue out, cock twitching.

“One down…”

Ten minutes later. Another knock.

He didn’t look. Just flipped onto his back, cock standing proud, hole still wet and gaping. One flip-flop dangling from his toes.

“C’mere bro… got a cock to unload?” he slurred, eyes rolling. “Put it wherever. I’m your little goonsleeve tonight…”

The second guy stepped in—this one older. Beard. Jeans. He walked right over, dropped to his knees, and sucked.

“UUUNNNNGHHHH—BROOOOO—YEEESSSS!!”

Stretch’s cock exploded instantly. Hyperspermia in full force. He blasted everywhere—his chest, his throat, the guy’s face, even a shot across the mirror.

The man laughed, licking his lips.

“Fuck, you weren’t kidding about the ‘super soaker’ dick.”

Stretch drooled, twitching, nodding dumbly. “More where that came from, daddy…”

The man slid two fingers into his hole, Stretch squealed.

The door kept opening.

By midnight? Stretch had taken five strangers. Two fucked him. One came on his flip-flops. One guy face-fucked him so hard Dalton’s cap flew off. Another stroked himself watching, saying nothing, until he blasted across Stretch’s feet and left without a word.

He loved it.

Stretch worshipped it.

Dalton’s body was soaked in spit, sweat, and layers of random cum. His cock had cum eight times already, and it still throbbed—eager, proud, ready.

He crawled back into position, ass in the air, flip-flops squelching with every shift of his thighs.

“Door’s still open, bro…” he whispered into the air, smiling like a brainless fuckdoll. “Keep comin’. I’m free real estate.”

The Final Load.

The last guy of the night was massive. Sleeveless hoodie. Gloves. Work boots.

He didn’t talk. Just walked in, grabbed Stretch by the neck, and bent him over.

“Yeah, stretch me out, bro…” Stretch moaned, shaking, drooling onto the towel as the man lined up.

When he slammed in, Stretch let out the loudest moan yet—Dalton’s body twitched, toes curling in those jizz-stained flip-flops, cock gushing a full-blown load with zero stroking.

“OHFUCK—Y’MAKIN’ ME CUM, BRO—UNNNGH—SHITTTT—!”

The man grunted, sped up, and dumped a final brutal load inside Dalton’s stretched-out hole.

He slapped that bubble butt, zipped up, and left the door wide open as he walked out.

Stretch just laid there, wrecked, twitching in a puddle of sweat and goon.

His voice came out in a moan-drunk whisper: “Dalton’s just a… just a public fuckhole now… a leaking, flip-flop-wearin’ cum collector…”

He smiled.

And passed out in the mess.

The sun hadn’t even risen yet, but Stretch was already leaking.

Dalton’s cock twitched against his abs, crusted in dried loads from the first Craigslist session—his bubble butt still raw, flip-flops still soaked with cum and spit. He lay on the floor, breathing slow, dumb grin on his pretty face, drool trailing down his cheek.

But Stretch? He was still hungry.

The Craigslist ad had already been edited.

18yo bro. Cumdump. Door’s unlocked. Bring a friend. Double me. Flip-flops stay on. Cock never soft. Holes wide open.

Attached was a blurry mirror selfie—Dalton bent over, hole spread, tongue out, wearing just flip-flops and a backwards hat. His cock visibly dripping onto the floor.

Stretch pressed “post” with a giggle.

“Alright, bros,” he muttered into the dark apartment, grabbing Dalton’s cheeks and spreading them open in the mirror. “Who’s gonna be first to double-stuff this himbo hole?”

Knock. Knock.

Stretch didn’t answer. Just laid belly-down on the living room floor, feet kicked up in the air, flip-flops clapping softly with every bounce of his thighs.

The door opened slow.

Two dudes. Early 30s. One in sweats. One shirtless in slides.

They saw Dalton—face down, ass up, tongue out.

“Holy shit,” one said.

The other? Already undoing his belt.

Stretch giggled through Dalton’s lips. “C’mon in, boys. Daddy’s open for business.”

The first guy spit on his cock and lined up behind Dalton’s gaping hole. The second circled around and shoved his meat right into Stretch’s drooling mouth.

BOTH went in at the same time.

Stretch screamed into the cock down his throat, muffled moans shaking his chest as both his ends got filled. His cock started spraying without warning—cum squirting onto the towel below him in steady, twitching bursts.

Dalton’s whole body convulsed as Stretch choked and moaned.

“Fuckin’… dumb fuckin’ bro slut…” the guy fucking his throat growled.

“Gonna split this hole wide open…” the one behind him spat, pounding faster.

Stretch couldn’t even think. The stimulation was overwhelming. He drooled, gagged, came again. His flip-flops slid across the floor as his hips jerked uncontrollably.

They came at the same time.

BOOM.

One deep down his throat. The other filling his ass so full, white fluid dripped out before he’d even pulled out.

Stretch twitched in silence for ten seconds.

Then moaned, “Next…”

Next wave.

More guys showed up.

Two frat bros. One trucker. One married couple who just watched.

Every time the door opened, Stretch was already in position—face down, feet flexed, moaning like a bitch in heat. His cock never went soft. His balls stayed heavy. Every load just boiled up again, faster and thicker.

One pair took turns on his ass, stretching him out, spit-slicked and raw, laughing about it while the other took pics.

Stretch loved it.

He begged between loads: “Yessss, bros… keep fillin’ me up… make me your fuckin’ public cumdrone… just a himbo in flip-flops beggin’ to be ruined…”

By Hour Two:

Dalton had cum twelve times.

His hole gaped so wide, he could feel the breeze.

His flip-flops were soaked with sweat, cum, and floor grime.

His voice was hoarse from moaning, sucking, and chanting dirty talk on loop.

And still, Stretch wasn’t done.

He crawled to the couch, still naked, hole leaking, and recorded a new JOI video.

He stared into the camera, eyes half-crossed, drool on his chest.

“Bro… this body’s addicted, man… I ain’t gonna stop… I’m just a slut now. You hear me? I’m a dumb, dripping, flip-flop-wearin’ fuckhole.”

He moaned loud, then jerked himself into a fresh cup, overfilling it in seconds.

Then whispered, “Next time? I want five cocks. All at once.”

He licked the rim of the cup.

Smiled.

And crawled back to the front door, cock still hard.

TO BE CONTINUED? O_o

[brains4brawn]

Brotherhood of the Traveling Dick

This is for my husband @nonotnolan for our annual Valentines day Story exchange

It's been a long 9 months but its finally my turn, No more hiding my shame. No more feeling the others orgasms and having to live vicariously through them. For three months. The winter months. Ugh.

For fourteen years the 4 of us have shared the same dick passing it along after our 3 months is up. At first it was amazing to feel my frat brothers orgasms and to know when I had the dick they could feel mine. Soon the novelty wore off as we realized that long term relationships were pretty much over. Most women wont wait till its your turn. So all of us have turned to Bottoming as a way to feel sexual during the long nine months.

Trevor was my current boyfriend an average guy who liked to top most of the time. He accepted my excuse that id had an accident when I was younger and after 6 months ill finally be able to fully engage with him.

I felt it at 6:48 pm a foreign hand was clutching the dick as it detached from my frat brother Jaxson. I winced as the dick was plunged into Ice and stored somewhere dark away from a human body I could feel it trying to get to me but whatever it was contained in blocked the magic that made it appear at 7pm between my legs.

7:05 my dick was becoming numb, by 7:30 I couldn't feel anything at all. We we're all calling Jaxson but he'd hired a pleasure woman for his last night who had drugged him and stolen our dick!

That was 6 years ago. Trevor and I are now married. As far as my frat brothers can tell our dick is in cold storage at some sort of laboratory. Occasionally, they take it out to poke or prod it. We've come to terms that were never gonna see it again.

[sehnsucht1]

[mjc88blr]

All of the staff at Pennsylvania State thought Swap Class would be a great addition to campus. It really did work great for weeks. Students spent five days swapped into the body of a random student in a different major and then wrote a report. Campus morale was up and the tech company that was running the pilot program was paying the school millions to let its students be the first large test group. That all changed when campus security finally managed to get the door to the classroom where the swaps took place unlocked and found four members of the college's physics club tied to chairs along with Dr James Bowman who taught the swap class and had been an employee of the university for years. All of them had the same story: they'd been knocked out at football practice and woke up here attached to the machine in the bodies of the geeks and some old guy.

The scandal couldn’t be contained for more than a few hours. Dr. Bowman had recruited the four boys from the club who were experts in computer hacking and had promised them the bodies of their dreams to help him abduct and swap the five of them into the hottest guys on the team. It was too easy for them to spike the guys water bottles before practice and bypass the security system to activate the swapping device. They all posed for this picture that was sent to their five victims the next day along with a video that haunted the five straight guys. After smiling wide for the camera each jock began to make out with the guy next them, slowly removing their remaining clothes until only their tight jockstraps remained, each one tenting in the front. The video then devolved into the height of debauchery which the guys could never forget.

The shortest guy in white the team's punter, really took charge of the guy on his right in red telling him to get on his knees and suck his dick which he gladly did. He then demanded he turn around and began to pound into him as the all star linebacker began to moan loudly like all of his favorite big breasted porn stars he used to jerk off to nightly. The remaining three began taking turns licking all over each other's bodies, the two taller boys, the teams running backs, dropped to their knees as the curly haired quarterback in the middle of the photo began to work his tongue in and out of their sweaty holes. He then crawled on his knees between the two muscled hunks and shook his rear-end begging for one in blue to take him from behind as he pulled down the white jockstrap in front of him. The two spit-roasted the quarterback until they both blew into their former friend. They all then ended the video by thanking the quarterback who revealed himself to be Dr Bowman by worshiping his body and each taking a turn making his athletic body squeal as they buried themselves balls deep. That was the last time any of the former jocks saw their bodies and the last semester swap class was ever offered.

[superiorstr8men]

[sehnsucht1]

[sehnsucht1]

[xephiro]

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[willysswapfactory]

I want nothing more in life than to be a dumb, carefree, slobby skater boy. Staying out with my friends smoking weed and skating for hours, not caring how I end up smelling. Living off of cheap greasy fast food and find farting in public where other people can smell it to be the funniest joke I know. Never amounting to more than a cute fuck who grosses you out

You sat on the park bench staring at the skate park just a few hundred yards away from you. Filled with envy as you watched all the dudes skating around with their bros, farting and burping non stop whilst having the time of their lives. You wished you could’ve experienced a life like that but instead you were thrown into your family business at 18 and have been stuck there for the past 20 years. You woke up every morning immediately going to work and by the time you were done the sun was staring to set. You felt trapped in the boring office lifestyle.

Your day off usually included going for a walk but never towards the skate park. You felt drawn here today but all it did was disappoint you as it felt like it was a way of the universe flaunting you with what you didn’t have. As you sat at the bench you looked down to the side and saw a black bat left behind. It looked like it had been soaked in sweat and worn a lot. You picked it up and examined it. A black cap with red embellishment that stunk of sweat covered by cans of Axe body spray. You don’t know why but you felt inclined to but the hat on.

You slid the hat onto your head immediately finding yourself in a completely different location. You looked down to see a skateboard in your hand, something you’d never owned let alone held. You quickly looked up to see a bunch of dudes aged 18-20 around you. You didn’t know why you were hear but you knew that it felt right. You suddenly felt a rumbling in your stomach before lifting your leg and *PFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTT* letting out a massive 12 second fart smelling of cheap booze and greasy food.

Your mates yelling at you with awe of how amazing that last fart was, but your stomach disagreeing by continuing to release tiny but deadly farts every few seconds. You leaned over still not fully aware what had changed and why you don’t remember where or who you were but only that you belonged. You looked over at your mates before letting out one last *BRAPPPPPPPP*

“Oye bruvs I think I just shit myself” before grabbing your board and running to the nearest McDonald’s, a place the old you wouldn’t dare to visit. But the new you had no recollection of that life. You sprinted to the toilet letting out gnarly ass bombs on the way, leaving your skateboard out side as you sat on the toilet. Yoh pulls out your phone whilst you shit and started taking photos to send to your mates. Showing off your stinky new feet and fart videos. You couldn’t remember anything but knew this was your new life.

You left the McDonald’s with toilet paper stuck to your shoes as you headed towards your new home completely forgetting about your previous life. The skateboard left forgotten outside the shop faintly starting to flow, ready to transform its next victim into a hot gassy bro.

You sat in your house immediacy opening up a hidden compartment and pulling out your bong. You took a hit something you were unsure how you knew how to do but still were able to. You lifted your leg letting out a room filling fart that caused you to relase a deep chuckle. You called your mates telling em to come home and smoke and jerk off after they’re done skating. While you waited you walked over to the shower and threw your dirty trousers into the tub. You weren’t exactly sure what the shower was when you’d rented the condo but assumed it was just a glorified laundry basket. You waited on the cum stained couch sniffing your armpits and feet enjoying your new life of a jobless 20 year old alpha. All you had to do was make faggots submit your you online. You enjoyed how easy your life was and wouldn’t change a bloody thing

[redpilledredneckson]

Fagnotizing Feet

“Ok bro, you weren’t kidding about your cardio routine.” Brian dropped his gym bag on the floor, kicking off his shoes. “I feel like I could collapse at any second.”

David chuckled. “Couch is over there, make yourself at home.”

David removed his own shoes as Brian stumbled into the living room and collapsed onto the sectional. Brian was shirtless, a thick sheen of sweat covering his body. David did not mind that it was probably soaking into the couch; he too was covered in his own layer of salt.

While both were over six feet and of similar builds, David was surprised when Brian had started up a conversation between the two of them. Being as muscular as he was–though not as bulky as Brian–David had always classified himself as more of a boy-next-door type. Brian though was a true gym rat through and through, eager and jockish in every respect. So when David eventually explained his rigorous cardio routine to him, Brian had taken it upon himself to join David as a challenge.

“Brooooo…” Brian moaned, kicking his long legs out onto the coffee table. “I don’t know if I’m going to be able to get back up.”

“I’ll let my girlfriend know,” David rolled his eyes, approaching the scene. “She’s coming over in an hour or so, but you’re welcome to stick around.”

“A girlfriend?” This piqued Brian’s interest. “How long have you two been going out?”

“A couple of years now. It’ll be three in October.”

“Dang!” Brian readjusted into a manspread, placing one foot on the ground and the other right out in front of David. “Be honest, is the sex good?”

David, immediately flustered. “What! Dude, you can’t ask me that.”

“Oh c’mon, it’s just us bros,” Brian said. 

David looked down, his eyes landing on the coffee table. “I’m not gonna answer that.”

“Ok, ok,” Brian surrendered a bit, scrunching his toes. A small waft of his foot funk was released up into the air. “Can you at least tell me if she’s got a good rack?

David remained silent, his eyes trained on Brian’s foot. He had not realized how big Brian’s feet were.

“Looking at you I’m guessing you could score something good,” Brian continued. “Definitely a B, maybe even a C?”

“D,” David answered, softly lowering himself to the floor. He wanted to get a better look at Brian’s feet. Why was he so curious about another man’s feet? Why did he want to know how big they were? Why did he want to know how they smelled?

“D!” Brian remarked, not paying attention to the scene unfolding on the other end of the coffee table. He wiggled his toes again. “Dang bro, you have game!”

“The sex is amazing too,” David blurted. Brian’s feet looked so soft. They were so meaty, so welcoming. And as David drew closer, his nose began to register their funk too. It was pungent, sour even.

“You’re kidding!” Brian groaned. “I’m so jealous of you man. I feel like I’ve just been tossing chicks back and forth and have yet to find one that’ll stick. I hope you know how good you’ve got it.”

Brian then flexed his foot subconsciously. It was a small movement, but enough to dilate David’s pupils. Thoughtlessly, David leaned forward, taking a tentative sniff. Like a drug, the inhale instantly triggered every nerve in David’s body, alighting him with pleasure.

Eventually, Brian registered that the conversation had become one-sided. He turned to face David, but was startled to find his new buddy at his foot, his eyes bloodshot.

“Fuck!” It was too late. Before Brian could pull his foot away, David’s face plunged into his giant sole, his tongue dragging across every curve and gathering every glob of sweat and cheese. Brian should have been more cautious, he always got too chill when he was with his bros. He had really been enjoying his time with David, even if it had been short. But now Brian had blown it, and he watched as the familiar consequences of his actions played out.

It always started with the height first, removing inch after inch from Brian’s latest mistake. Typically, the poor victim would end up under the average male height. Brian watched as David shrunk before his foot, aptly fitting his estimation. Then came the muscle drain. It was painful to watch anyone lose their physique, especially a seemingly all-around good guy like David. But there was nothing Brian could do to prevent David from losing his jock status and becoming nothing more than a scrawny beta.

The last phase was the worst though: the conversion. During his teenage years, Brian had not thought of his feet as special by any means. Sure they were large–Size 15 to be exact–but what other high school athlete did not have big smelly feet? Brian soon discovered though that his feet had a “fagnotizing” power to them, transforming their victims into smaller, weaker, homosexual versions of themselves. It first happened to his childhood best friend Alex (Lexi), then a few guys on the football team (Nick to Nico, James to Jamie, Michael to Milo), and then some accidental strangers through college (Skylar, Luca, Zeke, Finn). 

Brian had gotten better at keeping his dogs housed in recent years, but every now and then he slipped up like he just had. Mentally, Brian added David to his growing list, watching as a small lump became more prominent in the smaller man’s shorts. For David’s sake, Brian hoped that the manhood had been that size originally, although deep down he knew it had been bigger.

“Brian…” the faggot continued lapping at Brian’s sole. His voice had notably gotten higher. “You’re tho hot, Brian!”

“Yeah, I know,” Brian replied, uninterested. Not only had he just lost a friend, but he had no interest in the new faggot embarrassing himself before him. “Look, uh, are you about done down there?”

The faggot twitched, his dick throbbing. “Yeth!”

The feminine lisp made Brian cringe. Then, an idea popped in his head. “By any chance, you’re not straight, are you, David?”

“No! I’m a good faggy boi for you, Thir!” the faggot exclaimed, as if he was being tested. “And itth Davey.”

Brian chuckled. “You wouldn’t mind then if I slept with your girlfriend, would you?”

“It would be an honor, Thir!” Davey felt himself getting close. “Pleath take my girlfriend! Pleath take anything you want from me!”

Brian nodded his head, smirking as the faggot busted at his feet. Palming himself, Brian realized this situation may not have been so bad after all.

[oliverorsomething]

Stop Staring, Perv

What the hell!? I look like a fucking twink!

I spotted this shy man at the beach with the biggest ass I’d ever seen. When he caught me staring, he said he’d teach me a lesson- I thought he was kidding, but by the looks of it, he kept his word. Now I have his gigantic ass! It’s so big and… so sensitive too. I can’t stop playing with it.

[sehnsucht1]

[double-sided-tf-deactivated2023]

Jakes Curse: Part 6

PFFFFFTTTTT

I opened my eyes to see my son hanging his ass over me and letting a loud fart rip right in my face followed by a loud belly laugh. He then turned around and gave me a warm smile as he quickly pulled his pants back up "Morning pops, I thought I'd help you start the day off right."

My wife turned in bed and had a disgusted look on her face from the fowl odor our son had released so early in the morning "Do you boys really have to be playing your games this early in the day?"

"Oh come on Margo, boys will be boys." I said feeling pride as I looked back at my strapping young son before raising my ass cheeks from the bed and ripping some ass of my own.

"Ugh, gross!" Margo exclaimed and rolled away from me as my son laughed at his old man.

I started to laugh, knowing my wife was always overreacting to the things we would do as men. She got up out of bed, letting her tits bounce in her lacey nightgown, awakening my morning wood as it strained against my hanging belly. She stepped over and gave a few pats to my stomach "I better get down stairs and get some food ready for all my boys, even my over grown ones." She said the last part with a playful wink at me.

She gave me one last kiss and asked our son to go get his brothers up for breakfast before she went downstairs to the kitchen. I could hear her clanking pots and pans around in the background as I got up myself and headed for the bathroom to take a piss.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror and smiled at the older man that stared back at me. I was quite the stud in my day and my boys surely had followed in there old man's footsteps. They all played sports and were all 6 feet tall and built like pro athletes. I loved my family and hoped they never changed.

I stepped toward the toilet and fished my dick out and unleashed my heavy stream with a loud sigh. After I finished with a few shakes and shoving my still partially erect dick back into my briefs, decided to do a quick scroll through my tumblr before heading downstairs. I opened the app and was immediately greeted with a new message from an unknown user.

"What the hell?" I mumbled to myself as I opened the tab and was met face to face with a picture a what looked to be a very all American southern man along with the message "Another fun change for you. All American Daddy."

"Not this again." I breathed allowed as my memories finally came flowing back to me again. Just like Axel, Tyrell and even Dallas, I wasn't actually Mike, I was Jake and I remembered that this life I had with these 3 smelly jocks and a big busted wife wasn't my own. That I was still Jake in here and I was trapped under whatever this curse was still. At least I knew I'd be out of this gassy and bloated body now. I sighed and closed my phone quickly before I could read any more messages, before saying, "Let's just get this over with..."

With that I could feel the changes begin as my robust belly all at once began to suck itself in and shrink while my smooth chest started to grow the perfect dusting of body hair.

Looking down, I could watched as a perfect pair of pecs protruded from my chest as a set of cobblestone abs popped to life right before my eyes right below. I couldn't help but rub my thickening palms against my new muscles, feeling my cock stir from the new skin I was experiencing. I watched my thick muscular legs slowly expand and transform into tree trunks. My balls started to swell and the bulge between my legs grew larger and became rock hard. Even though I didn't understand why this kept happening to me, I'd be lying if I didn't say that all these changes I was forced to go through felt hot as hell. As my cock made its way out of my tight boxer shorts, I began to rub my hand around it and enjoy the sensation of the rough skin rubbing against my palm.

I heard Margo coming down the steps towards me and I quickly went into the bedroom and shut the door behind me, quickly locking it behind myself. She wouldn't recognize the man I was anymore and I knew that as I felt my facial structure become sharper as a perfectly cut beard grew into place. I rubbed my hands through the dense dark hair on my chin and chuckled to myself. I was liking this new body far more than Mike but as I felt my shoulders pop and broaden I knew there'd be no way to explain who I was to Margo.

Margo walked over to the bedroom door and knocked quietly. "Mike? You okay in there?"

"Honey, I'm fine. Just run along and keep fixin' up breakfast for the boys yuh here?" I clutched my thickening palm to my mouth. I didn't have Mikes voice anymore, I was clearly speaking in a southern drawl and had the voice of very much a different man and I immediately knew Margo could tell.

"You're not Mike, who is this?"

My heart dropped, how was I suppose to explain any of this to her so I decided to just try and lie but try as I might, my mouth was working against me and I was followed with that country lisp again "Now I reckon you're just bein' silly Darlin' I don't know what you're talkin about."

"That's bullshit! I'm calling the police?" she said angrily but I could hear the uncertainty in her tone as she rushed down the stairs.

Well fuck, I was in quite the predicament now. I quickly grabbed some of mikes clothes and threw them on, thanking God that my muscular physique filled out his large clothes and I quickly threw a hat on as I exited through the window before things got anymore serious.

As I flew down the block, I could feel my form continue to shift and change. I suddenly felt my back straighten out and become more muscular. The skin on my forearms and across my chest tightened up and hardened as the hair on my body began to sprout out to form a thicker coat. My legs grew longer and thicker and I could feel my ass begin to grow. I was becoming quite the hung top if you ask me. And the rumors are true afterall, tops for some reason always have the best asses around.

As I made it to my apartment I was glad to realize that I had once again ended up in a gay body and life again. I had memories that in this body I was now Austin, the patriotic loving cowboy type of guyz followed with a huge cock and a desire to dominate twinks. I had all these new memories but at least this time around I still held onto my original personality and self as well. Something about these gay bodies made it easier for me to not loose my sense of self entirely so I knew while I still had the chance I needed to figure more of what caused this before I changed again.

Although, upon looking at my strapping body, I can't help but get excited by the way my muscular frame clung to my t shirt while my dick left an obscene bulge in the front of my denim jeans. It was enough to make me drool.

I couldn't help but rush over to my bedside mirror and take a picture of my new form. Once I got this all figured out and get back into my own body I'd definitely be jacking it to this sexy daddy. Just that thought made my dick grow hard and scrape against the zipper of my pants.

Maybe I have enough time to just take this new form for a test drive before I start researching how to change back. Maybe get more acquainted to Austin's sexy frame. I smiled to myself as I slid my hand down my bare stomach and under the waistband of my jeans, taking hold of my swollen cock and stroked it slowly. Definitely was going to have to bust a load before I got back to work.

With a soft sigh I tightened my grip on my thick, meaty shaft and looked back at the mirror as I began to stroke faster and harder. There was absolutely nothing better than a nice fat cock to jerk off to. Austin cock was at least 8 inches and I couldn't help but take notice of each vein in it that pulsed with every stroke of my hands. As I pumped my fist up and down, feeling my precum soak my calloused fingers, I could see my reflection in the mirror. The hungry look of a redneck daddy who needed to desperately cum stared back at me. Enjoying that such a sexy look was in fact my own face now.

It didn't take long before I felt my swollen nuts begin to tense up as my tip started to throb and cum shot forth, spraying all over my mirror. At first it was a steady stream but then it seemed to pick up speed until it was shooting out like a fire hose. All the while I kept jerking my dick and my ass shook back and forth as I sprayed my hot load all over, some even catching on my thick juicy thighs. It was such an incredible release and I could feel my mind start to drift away as I was able to find some ease after all that had happened in the last few days, looking at the post nut high of the stud in the mirror only made my cock stay hard. That was me now and maybe I wouldn't mind staying Austin for a little while. I swiped my fingers across the mirror, collecting some of my cum, and as I tasted my own sweet load I knew I'd just have to avoid getting another message so I wouldn't change yet again. I did want to put this new cock of mine to use afterall. If I couldn't control these changes might as well have a little fun with this body while I can, right?

[grintereat]

180 —> 270

Hmmm… not sure I can call this the freshmen fifteen anymore…

[muscletale]

Calum is teasing :)

[sergeant-adams-deactivated20240]

The 43rd Annual Fettig High School Career Fair

Jackson

Jackson couldn’t have been more excited for the 43rd Annual Fettig High School Career Fair. Ever since he was a freshman, he had been making great plans for that day he would finally get to attend. He’d constantly checked the facts, the statistics, and even the charts on how each fair would go off, making sure to collect as much data as he could. Jackson wanted to make sure everything was perfect when the day would finally come. The day that he would be able to pull off the greatest prank the school had ever seen: vandalizing one of the governor’s own private jets.

Jackson had never been the best kid in school, and he’d definitely never been the best person to his peers either, but he was known for his commitment. Once he’d started something he’d do everything to finish it: even if it meant he would be considered a bully or it would hurt his grades. That was probably why his classmates were always drawn to him–he’d stop at nothing if something (or someone) challenged him. Sometimes they just wanted to follow along and watch, and other times his crew actually wanted to partake. Jackson’s influence eventually made him the leader of one of the most popular cliques in school and basically nurtured his arrogant personality into what it had become. 

So in all, Jackson had the confidence, the group, and the looks. Jackson wasn’t model material, but he was attractive by high schooler standards. The 18-year-old had the hockey haircut always tucked beneath some baseball cap, he had the lightly-muscled lean body, and he had the natural cockiness that came with any confident youth. His well-known crew and casual attitude towards school also got him street credit. And even without playing sports or being involved in any activity, somehow everyone knew Jackson’s name.

So when his day to participate in the career fair finally came, Jackson couldn’t have been any more excited. He’d got on the local airport’s list without a problem, made it through security with all of his gadgets unquestioned and untouched, and landed himself and his buddies all in the brand-new in-transition private jet without a problem. Well, all his buddies except Jacob who’d been called to the assistant principal’s office for some random reason. But as long as it wasn’t himself, Jackson didn’t care.

“As I’m sure you can tell, this is one of the governor’s own aircraft we’re walking in. You have probably noticed this plane was formerly for commercial use, but the governor is currently in the process of remodeling,” the guide announced proudly. “Our governor believes that recycling is a practice worth noting.”

Jackson had to hold back a smile, knowing that once he was through with his business there’d be no point for the governor to continue his. The guide was an older male, well built and probably well off with a sturdy, tall figure and gray hair. He walked with a sense of authority he had earned with age and experience. He’d already told Jackson’s crew that he’d been flying for over 30 years before he’d been contracted by the governor.

“Do you guys know anything about our governor?”

“He’s a snowflake,” Fernando, one of Jackson’s boys shouted from the back. All the boys chuckled menacingly as the pilot tried to keep a calm stature.

“It’s best for you not to be rude towards someone on their property. You should be respectful.”

“Sounds pretty gay to me,” Jackson smirked, riling up his crew.

“Is it true he has a trophy husband?” one boy prompted.

“Yeah! I heard he had an affair with that socialist senator!” a second added.

Jackson slowly took a step back in his group, letting the chaos swarm around him.

“Can’t believe we have a gay governor!”

“Make America straight again!”

Jackson’s plans were working smoothly. While the pilot tried to swat down the other boy’s remarks, Jackson quietly slipped through the back of the group and down the hallway of the jet. Out of his hoodie pocket, he removed a small jar containing bright red paint. It didn’t take him long to get out the other items that each of the boys had also gotten through security: bottles of carbonated drinks, gum and soda tablets, plastic water bottles: everything and anything Jackson could use to make destructive explosions. Nothing that would actually harm anyone (because obviously it was a prank AND the airport had tight security), but enough to create quite the impact to the jet and an unwelcome statement to the governor.

Setting the items up in front of himself, Jackson couldn’t have been prouder of his work. His boys had come through, his plan had come through, and years of quietly waiting had come through. This pilot, and of course the governor, had no idea what was about to happen.

“This is your captain speaking.”

The stern voice sent a shock through Jackson’s body, shaking the small bottle of his mastermind mixture. Jackson knew it was the guide, but he had no idea how the pilot had gotten past his distractions. Didn’t matter anyway; all he had to do was put a tablet in and then-

“I’d like to advise all passengers aboard to immediately stop what they are doing.”

The shock coursed through Jackson’s body again, this time causing him to freeze up. He couldn’t move his hands or his arms. Not even his legs were inching forward. Jackson felt his usual cockiness disappear and be replaced with something new. Something he hadn’t felt since he was little. Something he’d almost forgotten the name of: fear.

“I already know what you’re planning on doing,” the pilot said through the speakers, his deep, silky words intimidating. “Your boys already told me.” Jackson flinched.

“They’re speaking with other pilots right now,” the pilot’s smirk could practically be heard in his voice. “They surrendered easily.”

Jackson’s face flushed with anger. He didn’t know who to be more angry at, his group or the pilot. It didn’t matter though, his fist was already tightening at the thought of punching anything or anyone. He didn’t even notice he had placed the tablets and bottles down.

“Insubordination, that simply won’t do!” the older pilot teased. “If you are going to work in this field, respect will be your first priority.”

“Excuse me?” a confused Jackson spat.

“I said respect,” the pilot shot back. Jackson cowered in response, bowing his head to his superior.

“Yessir…sorry sir.” Jackson stuttered in a low, soft timbre. His tone lacked the confidence of youthful vigor and replaced it with something more timid. It was something Jackson was familiar with, a calling for subservience and obedience to those above and around him.

“That’s right,” Jackson’s guide didn’t even try to hold back his delight. “Mischief is what causes errors and accidents, and that is unacceptable. Especially in our line of duty. Now, make your way to the cabin of the plane.”

“Of course, sir.” Jackson’s scurried as instructed, making his way to the middle of the aisle.

“It’s best if you follow all my orders, wouldn’t you think so?”

“Fully sir.” The words came out of Jackson’s mouth in record time.

“I knew you’d agree. I could tell when I first saw you.”

“What…what do you mean…s…sir?”

“For one thing, by the way you carry yourself,” the older pilot started as if it was obvious. “You’ve got no real personality kid. You’re about as tame as the majority of politicians that I meet. Just by looking at you, I could tell that even after flying around the world your favorite things are Vineyard Vines and IPAs.”

“Gotta love Vinny V, sir!” Jackson smiled suddenly, a sudden spark of excitement replacing his usual flaccid personality. It was true, some people thought of Jackson as bland for his likes, but he believed he just enjoyed the simple things in life. Why venture outside of the plane when you’re already comfortable inside?

A sudden memory of a closet full of the same three outfits at home caused him to pleasantly smile. One for work, one for day-to-day, and one for pleasure. They were basically the same articles of clothing in a rainbow of colors. IPAs were definitely Jackson’s favorite too, and he wasn’t afraid to admit it! Except, why did Jackson feel a slight hesitancy to admit it?

“You’re also built like you’re compensating for your lack of character.”

“I am…sir?”

“Completely,” the pilot replied back, his husky phonics clicking through Jackson’s earlobes. “Look at those arms, how much are you lifting, kid?”

“Just enough to keep my bis and tris prominent, sir,” Jackson replied, subconsciously crossing his arms in order to rub said mounds. He wasn’t doing this out of pride however, this was an act of submission. Even though Jackson had developed upper musculature, he couldn’t help but feel called out by the truth in the pilot’s words.

“And that torso too, obviously traded brains for brawn.”

“Thanks, sir!” Jackson guffawed, chuckling while patting the abs he knew were tucked underneath his button-up. He couldn’t help but tweak his nipples too, which thanks to his thick pecs were easily accessible behind his two shirt pockets. With his mouth, he made a little “beep beep” noise as he fiddled with the two teats, pretending as if they were the same noises particular buttons made in the control room.

“I’d say your head also took a beating from hitting the ceiling of the plane so many times. How tall are you again, kid?” 

“6’5 I think, sir.” Jackson replied, the top of his pulled-back ‘do rubbing against the ceiling.

“Well, at least some of that muscle is useful for something.”

“Is it sir?”

“Sure,” the pilot responded back over the speakers. “For instance, those legs of yours make you strut with authority, even if you don’t have any.”

Jackson looked down over his thighs and calves, his dark trousers looking like a casing over two titanic sausages. The pilot was right, because of his thunderous quads he did have to strut through terminals like he was in charge. His Size 13 feet to also made each footfall sound more like a stomp. Jackson chuckled to himself at that thought; being in charge wasn’t meant for someone like him. Or at least, he didn’t think so.

“And that square head is mighty handsome, even if it is rather empty.”

“My momma’s said it only holds what’s most important!” Jackson nodded proudly, accidentally bumping his head on the ceiling. He immediately placed a meaty palm onto his forehead, feeling his shortly-kept bristles of hair rub through his fingertips. Once his hand was done there, it moved to his chin, admiring the rough, wide nature of it. A history teacher had once remarked that Jackson’s face looked similar to a Neander…Nean…old human’s with his forward brow and large ears and nose.

“I bet she did,” the pilot sighed. “But luckily you’re just smart enough to be a pilot after way too many years in school. How many was it again, kid?”

“10 years I think, sir.” Jackson’s answer was not as jovial as the past few had been. It had been hard for him in school, being that he was never the smartest student in the toolbox, but he wouldn’t give up! And he finally made it through just when he had turned 29. With that said however, the administration he had signed on with required him to be with an older, more experienced pilot at all times. Someone that could lead Jackson constantly, guide him without restraint.

“There are just a few good things about you though.”

“There are?” A big smile spread across Jackson’s face, filled with delight over someone else’s approval.

“Well sure,” the pilot’s voice rang. “I mean even though you’re very handsome, you’re too meek and mannerly to be arrogant.”

“Oh, um thank you…sir?” Jackson didn’t know how to take that last comment. He wasn’t one to handle compliments well, and he was straight. So the combination of both issues in one phrase really stumped Jackson on how he should respond.

“There’s also those two amazing beach balls attached to your back that everyone can’t help but stare at.” Jackson blushed at that, clenching his buttcheeks just to appreciate what the pilot was saying. He was still uncomfortable with the situation though.

“And remember what I had said about compensating earlier? Well, there’s definitely some compensation there.”

Jackson bowed his head in humiliation, unintentionally being forced to look at his pouch. Pouch might have not been the right word however, for the front of his trousers were very flat. Jackson was not enjoying this conversation with his senior captain, but he also wasn’t one to fight back.

“Sir…I-”

“What, are you embarrassed?” The pilot whispered, his massive body suddenly right behind the younger man. Jackson had no idea when the man had left his station at the speaker system and had appeared in the cabin. And even though Jackson was about the same size as the pilot, he still felt shrink down in submission.

“It doesn’t matter what you think, remember?”

Jackson felt a shiver run across his body as the pilot moved around and in front of him–his huge, thick meat rubbing across Jackson’s leg as he passed.

“What’s your name, anyway?”

“J…J…Jackson, sir,” Jackson stumbled out.

“No, not your last name,” the pilot’s scoffed, although the offhand comment still made its mark. “Looks like it will stay that way now. Anyway, I am your captain, and your job is to follow my orders.”

Before he could protest (something Captain Jackson hadn’t been planning on doing anyway), the senior pilot unbuckled his belt and dropped his dark trousers. A 9 inch tube of pure man meat sprung out, bobbing up and down in excitement.

“So, captain,” the older male grinned, knowing the title was simply worthless when worn by the younger man. “Your first duty on this aircraft will be to help your senior advisor. I know you’ll be pretty familiar with the task, being this was how you made your way through all those years of school.”

“Yes sir,” Captain Jackson smiled earnestly, unnecessarily proud of the truth. He carefully placed one hand on the seat beside him, ready to lower himself to his superior just like he had countless times before.