Grear stuff so far! For my request I want more humiliation. I want a gassy, dirty, perverse slob to take control of a successful, young, smart, attractive businessman and warp him into his new bestfriend (with benefits) but keep that dude aware of all the changes. Make him lose everything!
Carlisle Moreau was the definition of perfection.
He had himself convinced that if he was to flip open a dictionary at any given opportunity, he would find his picture smiling back at him. Smooth skin, clever eyes, a wickedly sly grin creeping up the side of his face. He was a brilliant young man, richer than his father and his grandfather combined.
He liked to look at himself like he was a product, the result of years of endless studying and careful grooming. Everything about Carlisle was calculated, and carefully planned, and he lived his life following a strict schedule. A light jog in the mornings, a healthy five star breakfast, a long day of work.
Not that the work was ever difficult, not from within his luxurious office, but it was still work. He would always set aside time to go to the gym in the afternoon before booking a reservation at whatever restaurant was trending that day, where he would order a salad that cost way more than it was actually worth.
He was paying for the experience, he liked to tell himself. Just like he paid for his experience at the most prestigious gym in the city. So maybe that was why he was so easily annoyed by one of the other patrons. Frank the Tank/Pussy Smasher, as he liked to call himself, or Ass-Blaster/The Human Gym Sock, as others called him behind his back, was Carlisle's polar opposite.
His name was Frank Lombardi, and how he had even earned an invitation to the gym was a mystery to Carlisle. Let alone how he could afford it, seeing as no matter when the young businessman tried to schedule his evening workout, Frank was somehow always there. Always pumping iron, bloated way past the possibility of looking like a normal person, always grunting and listening to loud rock music.
He threw slurs around like they were free candy, fondling his dick and his balls like manners didn’t apply to him, trying to pick up chicks at any given opportunity. His eyes always looked a little too cloudy, his mouth a little slack, like he was just a few strokes away from losing his load. He just needed to explode.
And he did, often. Much to Carlisle’s disgust. He was called Ass-Blaster by the other gym patrons for a reason, gassing out all the guys throughout the day with his booming protein farts. It was easy to ignore his rancid armpit stink in the gym air, but not the toxic fumes wafting from Frank’s meaty ass. Carlisle was among the few souls who couldn’t handle the latest blast of the day, excusing himself to the locker room and still clutching his nose tight.
He had made so many complaints, offered so many bribes, but nothing got done. He never really stopped to consider who Frank was, or why he was there, he just focused on the fact that he was so far beneath him, beneath everyone in that gym, a walking barrel of beef jerky that had spoiled long ago. Maybe if Carlisle had done a little research, he would know that Frank was the son of the gym owner. Also rich, also a pedigree, just not so fucking uptight about it.
His dad bought him a gym so he could make gains all day, whereas Carlisle’s helped him put down a down payment for a private jet. They were just two different types of guys, and that should have been okay, but Carlisle couldn’t accept it. The spicy scent was still lingering up his nose, only just fading, when the locker room door swung open and Frank stomped inside.
He was such a douche. Piss burnt yellow hair from a bad bleach job, diamond studs, a backwards cap, the aftermath of his fart and sweat still hanging thick around him. Carlisle took a step back as the giant approached, and Frank laughed at the sight of the squeamish businessman. He didn’t ask for permission before throwing his arm around Carlisle, squeezing so tight that other guy couldn’t escape the embrace, laughing even louder like they were best bros just sharing the love.
“Dude, why do you always run from me? We could be buds.” Carlisle couldn’t choke back his scoff, breaking free from Frank’s grasp at the first opportunity. Literally nothing sounded more unappealing than being friends with this gorilla. He didn’t even deem the young man worthy of a response. This hurt the meathead’s feelings a bit, though his dumb grin never really left his face.
He just pulled off his shorts and scratched at his massive dong through his jockstrap, grunting as he did so, louder and louder. “Fuck, bro You ever get jock itch like fuckin’ crazy?” Carlisle didn’t mean to glance over, but he nearly gagged when he did. The white fabric was anything but, long since stained yellow from abuse, torn at the edges and straining against the hardening cock. The smells in the room just got that much worse.
“You are absolutely repugnant. How do you even live with yourself? How can you be okay with this? Learn some manners.” Carlisle couldn’t understand how one person was so carefree, to the point of being a human garbage disposal. He was gross, and rude, and so stupid. Nothing like Carlisle. And what made it worse was that Frank had the means to be somebody, but he chose this. He chose being a muscle pig.
Carlisle was trying to excuse himself when Frank replied, voice still dumb and chipper despite the loneliness in his words. “Bro, I just wish I had a guy to chill with. Someone that actually fuckin’ gets me. You know how hard it is being around you uptight fuckers all day?” He threw his arms out in frustration, flaring his large chest. “Y’all need to take the sticks out of your asses and let one rip!”
The more polished of the two could only roll his eyes, slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder and tilting his head to the side. “Wow, Frank. That’s sweet. I really wish I wanted to follow in your footsteps sniffing up your farts all day. Sounds like a great life.” He shoved past the giant as he tried to exit the room, but his bony shoulder hardly did any damage.
It almost felt like it had done more to him. A few steps later before reaching the door and he nearly fell to his knees, pressing a hand to his slim stomach and wincing as a gurgling sound moved through him. “Oh, gosh.” That was all he could think to say, straightening himself back up. He didn’t like to curse, he believed that it was a sign of low intelligence. He could feel gas building up in him, out of nowhere, so he tried to excuse himself quickly.
He didn’t even notice his stomach was bloating until he tried to open the door and hit himself right in the gut, causing a burp to rocket past his lips. The stench of his breath was meaty, and rancid, like he had eaten five steaks already. It didn’t make sense, why his fumes were like someone else’s, or why suddenly he had a small gut resting above his narrow hips.
“Oh, my goodness. What’s happening?” He could hear Frank chuckling, and despite himself, he backed away from the door and closer to the big oaf. He couldn’t risk leaving like this, he didn’t want anyone to see him. Not when he still felt like he was inflating, like he needed to let loose in the worst way. Frank could clearly see the struggle, watching the prissy guy scrunch up his face and rub his stomach anxiously.
“Dude. You clearly need to take a shit.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing, and it was. But not to Carlisle, not to a young man that never passed wind in front of strangers, who followed manners at all time. Frank lifted a leg in response to this, squeezing out a squelching fart like it was the easiest thing. “See, man? That’s all there is to it. Better do somethin’ before you pop.”
Carlisle wanted to turn on his heels and accept the judgmental glares right then and there, but when he tried to move it felt like his body was betraying him. He was just standing there, staring at Carlisle, until he started to mimic the giant’s movements. “What? No,” he whimpered, confused, unable to stop as he lifted a leg and let rip a booming fart. It kept coming out of him, a deep bass with a spicy protein stench, still rocketing out of his ass when he started to belch, too.
The whole time he expelled the gas, his body started to change. The small bloat started to lessen, giving way to a solid muscle gut made for holding rank farts, and a light dusting of facial hair formed around his lips. His eyes were full of fear, and shame, but Frank look delighted. “DAMN. I didn’t know you had that shit in you. That’s power, bro.” There was something eager, and almost hopeful about him. Like this was really what he was wishing for. Maybe he had finally found someone just as gross as he was.
But Carlisle didn’t want to be like this, and he was confused why all of this was happening in the first place. He tried to talk, but the aftertaste of his belch just made him want to retch. He started coughing before it turned into dumb laughter, the same sound Frank had made, hands falling to his now shredded abs and then to his stretching shoulders. He felt himself grow, and change, his ideal physique becoming that of a gym rat’s.
He looked like he could have been Frank’s younger brother, a muscle pig in the making with his thick muscles and douche style. That was when Carlisle finally got control of his body again, shaking his head and glancing down at himself. His feet were huge, his legs long and thick, he looked like he had just finished a good pump. He walked to the nearest mirror, nearly tripping over himself. He was stunned by what he saw. “That’s not me. I don’t want this.”
Where had these clothes come from? Why was there hair and tattoos suddenly all over him? He started to panic, but he couldn’t control his face. It just kept smirking, his control waning once more. When Frank plodded over, wrapping his arm around his bro’s shoulder, Carlisle could see the resemblance in all its glory. He looked like part of the Lombardi family, well on his way to being just like his bigger, grosser brother. He had to fart again. And burp.
Frank just laughed, not even waving the scent off. “Dude, that’s a 10 out of 10. You’re more rank than me.” Carlisle couldn’t believe what was happening, he didn’t understand it, suddenly there was a stranger in the room and he was trapped in his body. Out of nowhere there was another meathead with horrible hygiene, just like Frank, and he was stuck inside without any control.
“Bro, there’s no fucking way. No one could ever live up to your stank.” He sounded so dumb, and so crass, and he hadn’t even moved his lips willingly. He was so scared, banging at the walls of his brain as he felt himself leaning forward, nudging his nose against Frank’s closed armpit. The bigger guy just laughed, looking around to check that the locker room was still empty.
“What, piggy? You hungry for this?” He lifted his arm, and Carlisle wanted to scream. He tried to pull away, he tried to run, but all his body could do was dive into the sweet musky forest. His tongue lapped at the matted hair, drinking in the divine sweat, all the while Carlisle could taste everything inside his own mind, gagging and crying and begging it all to stop. Not that Carl wanted to, he was grunting and moaning and grinding his hips against Frank’s leg the whole time.
“I love that my best bro is such a gross fag.” And he really did, Frank was more than happy to keep Carl satisfied. The new jock never really asked for much, but he had a thing for smelly guys, and Frank was the smelliest. Frank was a pussy hound, through and through, but if Carl wanted to choke on his fat cock then who was he to stop his best bud’s enjoyment? A mouth was a mouth. He was just grateful to have such an awesome friend.
“Dude, let’s go to Taco Bell. If you’re that horny I need to load up.” Carlisle didn’t understand what that was referring to, but Carl replied with an excited moan and a dumb chuckle. He scratched at his bull nuts, pulling away from Frank and not bothering to wipe the sweat and stray hairs away from his face.
“Oh, fuck yes. Suffocate me with your smelly ass, bro.” Then he understood, and he was terrified once more, but he soon learned that he would never regain control. He wasn’t Carlisle anymore, Carlisle had never existed, there was only Carl. And Carl was gross, and beefy, and Frank’s perfect little lackey. They did everything together, no matter how disgusting, how degrading. Both of them had gotten their wishes granted.
Carl was such a good bro now. The perfect spotter at the gym, the only guy who could dig into ten burritos without stopping, also the only guy who didn’t care about the hours of gas afterwards. He was so gross, and so dumb, and so chill. That was what Frank wanted. He wanted a dude who was just like him, and he got it. He got his mini me, his best pal, someone who wouldn’t run away when he made a complete ass of himself.
And Frank was everything Carl wanted. A bigger guy to follow around, to do all of the thinking for him. Huge and gassy and always willing to help him with his gross desires. He was so excited for tonight, he couldn’t wait for his bro to let one rip right in his face, over and over, he’d clean that hole until it shined. Anything for his best friend.
Poor Carlisle had a solo ticket to the most exclusive, disgusting muscle pig cam show on earth. He’d be around Frank for the rest of his life, breathing in his essence, laughing at his dumb jokes, helping him pick up chicks with the stupidest pick up lines, never again attending a meeting or following a strict schedule beyond the daily farts. He should have just kept his mouth closed.
But Carl was grateful he didn’t. He’d sniff extra hard tonight to thank him.
