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blake kathryn
Not today Justin

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Keni
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

Andulka
★

shark vs the universe
almost home

pixel skylines
ojovivo
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

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h
occasionally subtle
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

tannertan36

Jar Jar Binks Fan Club
YOU ARE THE REASON
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@wonderbreadhell
Just sit back and relax, bro..
@ jdannyx
There was a gas leak next door so our neighbor is staying with Jacob and myself. He’s always been fine enough, but having a post-grad frat bro in your house is very different than having one two walls away.
Ugh I think I hear him trying to goad my husband into a burping contest. He’s really rubbing off on Jacob!
When the neighbor had come over and announced there had been a gas leak at his house Jacob immediately told him he was welcome to stay with you guys. It’s just the type of person he was. He knew the Frat bro would appreciate the gesture of being able to stay close to his classes still so it was no shock when he immediately agreed. Though there was one thing Jacob should’ve asked about… what type of gas leak was it?
Bradley came over with a bag of “Basic necessities” but all you saw from the glimpse you got was a pair of underwear, some lube and a pocket pussy. You immediately shook your head trying to ignore it remembering that it was only for a few days till the gas lines were fixed
You showed Bradley to the guest room letting him know you needed to head out to work but that Jacob would be around if he needed anything. You grabbed your bag and scurried out the door hoping to get away from the straight frat boy as soon as possible, the less you had to deal with him the better.
Bradley peered out the window making sure you were gone before getting to work, he looked around the house till he spotted Jacob in his home office working away at the computer. He was faced away from the door giving Bradley the perfect time to strike. He snuck up behind Jacob before tapping him on his shoulder scaring Jacob into turning around fast. Immediately as he turned around he was greeted by Bradley’s ass *FFFFFRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTT* straight up Jacob’s nostrils causing him to faint.
————————————————————————————
You arrived home after a busy day at work just ready to eat whatever dinner Jacob had prepared before heading to bed. You walked through the front door to hear the world most disgusting sounding burp *BRUUUUUAAAAAPPPPPPP* come from the living room. You assumed it was Bradley till you heard him same “Nice one broski” and realized that it must’ve actually been Jacob. It was nothing you’d ever heard him do which sent confusion to your brain? Maybe it’s just him bonding with the neighbor.
You walked into the living room to hear Bradley relase a *PFFFFFRRRRRTTTTTT* straight into another man’s face, a face you’d never seen yet seemed familiar. Bradley turned and looked at you before smiling and winking at the man. “Just like we practiced bro”. Suddenly they both pounced at you
You were pinned to the ground by the Bradley before watching the other man stand above you and lower his ass, he stared at you “Hey babe! Wanna see a magic trick?” He lowered it down so his ass touched your nose. You sat there accepting there was no way you could over power both men, thinking about his choice of words? Was this man Jacob? He did somewhat resemble him but Jacob wasn’t that big?
PFFFFFFFFFFRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTTTT
You awoke a sat up scratching your belly, you couldn’t recall anything that had just happened. You lifted your leg and *BRAAPPPPPPPP* straight into the room before taking a big wiff and chuckling at the gnarly smell you just produced. Suddenly 2 men walked in and started talking to you, the words of the speaking man were hard to understand but from your jist you understood his name was Bradley and the man behind him was Jake. You were Thomas and they’d just rescued you from a horrible future. Jake walked up and gave you a kiss on the lips before burping into your mouth.
Something about the burp suddenly caused you to feel somewhat smarter. You listed to Bradley as he talked again. You learned that he’d been planning to start a new sector of his frat house next door but couldn’t get any recruits so he used the excuse of a gas leak to help convert some unlucky souls into his new frat bros. You cranked your head trying to figure out how someone would even be able to do that *PFFFFTTTTTT* chalking it up to just a story he was telling. He told you of his rank farts that were able to convert any man into a chubby gassy slob who’s so stupid all they knew how to do was obey their master. He told you that he was your master and it just made sense
You asked him if you would be able to meet the recruits and he just chuckled and laughed at you. You were too dumb to realize who had been the recruits….
Jake helped you to your feet before letting out a massive fart and kissing you. He told you how he loved being stinky and how he helped make you just like him. You didn’t know what he fully meant by that but you knew you loved him and would do anything to be with him. Bradley sat on the side and smiled knowing soon he’d have an army of gassy gay frat bros
Ass is getting fatter 🥩😈
"Some of the best conversations I've had have been with myself . . . "
Its not too late to post hump day posts is it? 🍑
Bro-ken down
The sun was a massive heavy orange ball sinking low into the dirt fields, turning the whole sky into a messy mix of bruised purple and gold. It was one of those humid evenings where the air feels like a wet blanket, sticking to everything it touches. Elias, an older guy pushing fifty with a back that constantly ached and knees that popped like gravel in a blender, didn’t even hear the tire go at first. There was just that sudden weird drag to the left, the steering wheel becoming a stubborn piece of iron in his tired hands.
He muttered a curse, his voice sounding thin and scratchy in the quiet cabin.
He guided the fading sedan onto the crunchy gravel shoulder. He was in the middle of nowhere. No houses, no lights, just flat fields stretching out forever. He sat there for a second with his hands still on the wheel, feeling every single bit of his fifty years. He was just so tired. Tired of the driving, tired of the back pain, tired of the quiet house he was heading back to. He stepped out of the car, his joints feeling stiff and brittle. The back tire was a total disaster. Shredded rubber flapping against the rim. He popped the trunk and just stood there staring at the spare tire. He hadn’t changed a tire in twenty years, and his brain felt thick and foggy from the summer heat.
That was when he heard it. A low vibrating hum that grew into a window-rattling roar. A sleek black sport bike ripped through the quiet air, moving so fast it was almost a blur. The rider saw him and slowed down, the bike growling and popping as it decelerated. The guy turned the bike around in one smooth easy motion and rolled up, stopping just a few feet away. The engine idled with a deep rhythmic thrum.
The rider swung a leg off the bike like it was nothing. He was young and loose, moving with this heavy, confident gravity. He didn’t take his helmet off. It was a matte black AGV with a mirrored visor that hid his face completely.
“Need a hand, man?” Jax asked. His voice came through the helmet, slightly muffled but deep and grounded.
Elias wiped sweat from his forehead. “Yeah. Tire’s gone. I’m a bit out of my element here, honestly.”
“It’s chill, I got you,” Jax said, stepping closer. The smell of him was intense. Heavy leather, gasoline, and a sharp hot sweat that seemed to radiate off his gear. “It’s easy once you get the rhythm. Here, crouch down with me. Just watch my hands.”
Elias knelt on the gravel. Jax reached out and gripped his shoulder. His heavy riding glove felt incredibly warm through the thin fabric of Elias’s old shirt.
“First thing is the wrench. Don’t stress it. Just feel the weight of the metal. Hear that sound?” Jax tapped the wrench against the rim. Click. Click. Click.
“Just focus on that sound, Colton,” Jax whispered, his voice a low, steady drone from behind the dark visor.
Colton. The name felt familiar. Elias didn’t even correct him. It felt like a word he’d forgotten and just found again. He watched the wrench. Click. Click. Click.
“Just keep turning it,” Jax said. “Don’t think about the rest. Just the metal. The road. The rhythm.”
Elias found himself staring at his own hands on the metal. Every time Jax spoke, a little more of his old life felt like a dream he was waking up from. He tried to remember his last name. He tried to picture his living room. It was there for a second, but then it got hazy, like looking through dirty glass. He tried to hold onto it, but the effort made his head ache. Why was he trying to remember a house? Houses were just boxes. It was easier to just listen to the wrench.
As Jax kept talking, guiding his hands on the bolts, the physical world started to shift.
His old dusty work boots grew heavy and stiff. The leather became hard and non-breathable, turning into professional black biker boots with thick rubber soles and plastic armor. Inside, his feet were widening, his toes getting thick and calloused. The heat inside the boots was instant and intense. His socks soaked through with a heavy, sour, extremely pungent foot sweat. It was a thick cheesy smell wafting up from the unvented boots, mixing with the hot engine oil.
He noticed the foul smell. It was undeniably rank. But then Jax shifted closer, and the younger biker smelled exactly the same. Thick, unwashed, heavy with the scent of the road. The smells blended together perfectly. It didn’t gross him out. It felt like they matched. Like they belonged to the same pack.
“Check the bolts, Colton,” Jax murmured, his gloved hand lingering on his arm.
Colton’s knees stopped aching. They felt like steel springs. He used to be taller, but he felt his bones compacting, his center of gravity dropping to a solid powerful five-ten. Perfect for hugging a gas tank. His old work slacks thickened, the fabric transforming into a pair of heavy charcoal-grey sweatpants. He felt his rear end firm up, expanding just enough to get that plump bubbly biker shape that filled out the soft cotton perfectly.
In the front, a heavy thick bulge was filling out, the soft grey cotton leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. Colton shifted his weight on his heels, feeling the low-hanging heaviness between his legs.
His upper body broadened, his chest expanding as his old shirt split and merged into a tight black gym shirt with faint grey details. It clung to his new biceps. It felt like he’d been wearing it since yesterday’s heavy lift. It was damp with old sweat, smelling like a locker room and heavy unwashed musk. His armpits were soaking through, releasing a thick masculine scent of raw onions and salt.
His stomach gave a deep, bubbling rumble. His diet was rewiring itself—he couldn’t remember the last time he ate a salad. All his body knew was cheap gas station burgers, protein shakes, and monster energy drinks. A heavy pressure built up in his gut. He didn’t even try to hold it in. He shifted his weight and let out a long, loud, vibrating fart that sounded like a dirt bike idling.
“F-fuuckkk..ughhhh..I just fucking farted..” Colton said, moaning.
It was incredibly pungent. A thick, heavy, eggy stench that lingered in the humid air like a physical cloud. He remembered his farts always reeked. So did Jax’s farts.
Jax didn’t wave his hand or back away. Instead, he stepped right into the cloud. He reached up and popped his helmet’s visor open. “Good one, bro,” Jax chuckled, taking a slow, deliberate sniff, letting the foul eggy air invade his helmet.
Colton looked up, a dumb happy grin spreading across his face. A warm surge of pride pooled in his gut. He liked that Jax liked it. He liked that he could be completely filthy and gross and Jax just claimed it. It was a weird, intense kink that suddenly felt completely natural to him. He wanted to smell like Jax. He wanted Jax to smell him.
He stood up, brushing his calloused hands on his sweatpants. This was the moment where things started to get really blurry.
He looked at the sedan parked on the shoulder. He stared at it for a long time. It looked wrong. It was too wide. It had four doors. Why would anyone need four doors? He tried to remember driving it, but the memory cut off mid-thought. He remembered hands on a steering wheel, but they didn’t feel like his hands. His hands were meant for grips, not a wheel.
The blue paint of the car seemed to swim in the humid air. The edges of the metal softened and folded inward. It was compressing, getting darker. He blinked, rubbing his eyes with a thick thumb. When he looked back, the four wheels were gone. It was a sleek black Yamaha.
He didn’t freak out. He didn’t even gasp. He just looked at it and felt a wave of relief. Right. The bike. Obviously. It was his bike. He knew the scratch on the gas tank. He knew how the clutch felt. It had always been there.
Colton didn’t want to move away from Jax. He naturally gravitated closer, their shoulders almost brushing. There was a deep quiet gravity between them. He didn’t need to make decisions anymore. He tried to think about that other life—something about a wife? A job? but the thoughts just slid off his brain. It felt gross to even try. His whole sexuality, his whole personality, had narrowed down to a single point. He just wanted to be right here, right next to Jax. Wherever Jax went, he went. They rode together, they slept together, they shared everything. It was a loyalty so deep it didn’t need words.
Thoughts were getting real simple in his head.
Hot out.
Bike looks good.
Jax is ready.
Just ride.
Jax grabbed a matte black AGV helmet from his bike and tossed it to Colton.
Colton caught it easily. His hands knew exactly how to hold it. He pulled it over his head. The inside was cramped and hot. It smelled incredibly stale, reeking of old hair wax, old sweat, and his own pungent unwashed musk. The pads squeezed his cheeks tight, making his lips pout a little behind the mirrored visor. To anyone else it would be claustrophobic. To Colton, it was a cocoon. It was his zone.
He stepped toward his Yamaha. He swung a heavy muscular leg over the seat. His bubbly sweaty rear settled onto the firm seat, the grey sweatpants bunching up perfectly to show off his thick thighs. He didn’t have to think about where to put his feet. His heavy smelly boots found the pegs by pure instinct. He leaned forward, his back curving naturally, and his hands gripped the handlebars. The calluses on his palms aligned perfectly with the rubber grips. He had done this a million times.
He revved the engine. The vibration traveled up his arms, settled deep in his chest, and buzzed against his crotch. It felt like a heartbeat.
He looked over. Jax had walked his bike over, but before he mounted it, he stepped close to Colton’s Yamaha. Jax reached out with a heavy black glove and rested his hand firmly on Colton’s plump, grey-clad butt. He gave it a slow, possessive squeeze, his thumb pressing into the soft cotton.
Even through the helmet, Colton could feel Jax’s smirk. Colton just revved the engine again, a low moan escaping his lips inside his helmet, his body leaning into the touch.
Jax patted him twice, then swung onto his own bike.
Good.
Ready.
Follow Jax.
Jax kicked his stand up and rolled forward onto the dark asphalt. Colton didn’t hesitate for a single second and followed.
yayyy biker story!! You guys have been harassing me with requests for one so there you are. Hope you enjoy ! <3
https://onlyfans.com/thatmidwestgay
"What the fuck did you do-OOH?"
"Just a little something to take the edge off."
That little something was a powder called Ovid's Wet Dream, and it had found its way inside of Eli's morning coffee courtesy of Silas. Now, Silas clutches his legs as he watches his equally nerdy friend explode in height.
"I'm so fucking horny!"
Silas is practically drooling at the sight of Eli's modest erection begins fattening. Eli's sweatpants are so thin and soaked with pre-cum that they're practically see-through, and do little to hide the inflating sausage between his legs. The cock's head flares and pushes out pre at a more urgent rate, as his balls begin churning and inflating with backed-up cum, becoming veritable, hairy baseballs between his legs. Eli's balls flood his body with testosterone. Sweat begins pouring out of his body, his pubes and pit air thickening and growing denser.
"I'm glad it feels good!" Silas says, encouragingly, squirming as his 5-inch erection brushes against his shorts.
Eli only moans in assurance as his frail chest begins inflating. If Eli had the mental faculties to do so, he would be asking lots of questions. But through the drool flooding out of his mouth, it's obvious the mental changes the powder promised are steadily kicking in. The overwhelming flood of hormones makes the loss of Silas's intelligence even more pronounced as he begins mindlessly humping, thrusting his hips, desperate for release as his cock surges to 9, thick, long inches. The head of his cock pumps a steady stream of pre down his knee.
"Fuck, bro!"
"Oh my god," Silas mutters, licking his lips.
Now, the most important question is why. Why is Silas watching his friend play with his fattening nipples, moaning like a whore and groaning with pleasure as his chest begins inflating with displaced fat and muscle? Why is Silas slowly stroking himself as Eli begins furiously massaging his expanding muscle tits, his hands cracking and inflating, becoming thick and veiny, callouses forming on his hands as workout routines replace complex math problems in Eli's shrinking brain? Why is Silas drooling from horniness as Eli flexes an expanding bicep and shows off his fattening arm, the thick hair growing beneath his pits, damp and sweaty, reeking of musk and testosterone?
Well, the poor guy is a virgin.
Still.
Eli stands and grabs his tight shirt, abs carving themselves into his stomach, and rips it clean down the collar. His back widens and thickens, biceps pumping with more meat as he bumps his beyond hard dick against his desk, files deleting themselves from his computer. All of his math homework? Gone. All of his coding programs? Gone. In their place is all the gay porn the gay, horny jock can possibly masturbate to whenever his massive, constantly producing bull balls need draining. The aroma of cum, sex, sweat, and musk fills both Eli and Silas's noses. It makes Silas's hole twitch, clenching in feverish anticipation, and only inflates Eli's burgeoning ego, and his burgeoning ass. The pancake ass begins stuffing itself with muscle and fat just like his pecs, the cheeks filling out whatever room is left in his straining, soaked sweatpants as his thighs, calves, and feet begin growing to match his upper body.
Eli looks at Silas with half-lidded eyes, cloudy with lust. He bites his lip as the cocky streak in him begins growing, seeing the cute twink in a different, much less platonic light as his pale skin begins growing a healthy tan, moaning as his nipples expand further, becoming more sensitive as more heft is packed onto his already meaty chest.
All Silas has ever wanted was to lose his virginity. Eli lost his recently but that's only because Eli was bolder, a little more comfortable using the apps than Silas ever was. It filled him with jealousy as Eli gushed about the experience. How nice the man was. How careful he was. Silas sat there silently fuming and mildly embarrassed at the fact that he was seemingly such a late bloomer. So many people he'd met had fucked already. And here he was, fingering himself and quietly moaning into his hand as he came. Besides, none of the men on the apps fit the exact parameters that Silas was looking for. Sure they were hunky, but did they have such a fat ass splitting the back of their sweatpants, the hairy globes released into the air and nearly clapping from their size? Did they have such meaty, juicy thighs sandwiching their fat nuts? Did they have such huge, musky feet, stretching across the carpeting, the toes thickening and thin hairs growing on the backs of them, the musk adding to the heady smell in the air, making Silas woozy with lust? Did they think with the head between their legs more often than the one on their shoulders?
Eli groans in pleasure, his newly deep voice ricocheting through the small room. His computer bloats into a massive, color-changing gaming computer. Java closing itself and COD showing up on the computer screen.
For Eli, he's never felt so good in his life. His brain totally devoid of worries and fears. No anxieties at all. He's just horny as shit. His brain is a carousel of images involving some bottom in front of him, their hole clutching tight to his thick dick, the massive schlong buried deep in their holes as it gains another inch in length and girth. Or his fat ass being impaled by one of his workout buddies, bent over in the musky locker room, cock oozing on the floor as his eyes loll in pleasure. He rubs his chiseling chin, moaning in approval as a thick beard begins growing on his chin. A baseball cap appears on his head, his wardrobe simplifying into the only attire necessary for a horned up jock like him. Sneakers, tank tops, basketball shorts, sweatpants, tight jeans, tighter polos, nipples and pecs and abs and dense, meaty biceps forever in display. Begging for a worshipper to lick him from head to toe. To swallow his cock down to the base, nose buried in the thick, musky pubes.
His cock strains with backed-up cum. His torn T-shirt (size small? Why the fuck did he buy such a small shirt) draped over the boner that's finally broken free of his destroyed sweatpants.
Silas mouth falls open and he gasps.
"Shit, bro I didn't know you were in here," Eli says, pressing down on his dick and making it bob. His dick pulses hungrily.
"Um," Silas says, speech temporarily shorted out by his own boner and the musk spreading through the room.
"I was gonna game," Eli says, "but then you walked by me with those shorts on." He bites his lip. "That ass looks perfect."
"I'm a virgin," Silas blurts and then blushes.
Eli only chuckles, before standing and letting the shirt slide off and his cock to bob in front of the mesmerized twink in its full, drippy glory. He wonders why he never considered fucking his nerdy friend before, maybe as a reward for doing his homework or something. Yeah, maybe he should start doing that. It's hard to pay attention to some dumb professor when all your dick wants to do is bust a nut everywhere. Maybe his friend and roomy here could help him with his large problem.
Eli cups Silas's chin in his hand.
"Don't worry baby," he says. "I'll be gentle."