change-your-instinct

[change-your-instinct]

Bigger. It was the only thought left in his head. It started out as a goal, lifting for size and strength. The extra testosterone that came from the gym was always a bonus, hair filling in across his body that came with a smell that couldn't wash off. They never noticed how hard it became to think, the pheromones only serving as a reminder to head back to the gym.

As their body bulked and muscles swelled, their veins would slowly be constricted. Their thick traps and shoulders would slowly cut off the blood supply to their head, their muscle mass taking up all the oxygen their brain would need. It was enough to make a difference. Their mind would empty, losing the ability of complex thought until it only served as a broken record for the single goal they now had: Grow bigger.

[change-your-instinct]

He used to be the college football star linebacker, at least, until his summer internship. Smart and majoring in agriculture, his grades were great, putting him right in line for a bright future with jobs lined up. All it took was one season of being a farmhand to break him down.

He'd taken pride in his body, keeping it fit and strong, not expecting the labor he'd be going through. Up early to avoid the heat of the day, gone were the healthy meals, replaced by calorie rich fuel. His body quickly filled out, becoming a cornfed slab of beef made for the field. Gone was the use of his mind, the habit of clearing it to focus on the manual work quickly engrained.

His body fattened, steeply outgrowing his old clothes, forcing him to stick to his nighttime tanks and overalls he borrowed from his mentor. He developed the country sound of a hick to his voice, and eventually lost care for the way he looked or smelled. All he needed to do was his job.

He came back for the next semester bringing his new habits and body. The changes couldn't have been more apparent than during the pre season interview by the college news. In no time his lack of intelligence would make their way into his grades, and he'd be back to his mindless job spent all day outside, continuing to grow massive.

[change-your-instinct]

Anton didn't know why his friends always asked for car rides from him. He was considered the driver of the group, always the first to be asked if anyone needed a ride. He didn't mind, they always paid him at the end. He could hardly remember the trips, however. He assumed it was due to how often he made them.

Anton didn't really think much after they got in his car, not after they said his trigger. "Good cab boy". He'd smile, not sure what for, his eyes losing focus as his mind took a back seat. He'd follow any orders they told him, where to drive, what to wear. It wasn't uncommon for him to go shirtless for the drive, exposing the fur he'd been programmed to grow out. Docile. Empty.

Anton couldn't mind as they played with his body while he drove focused on the road. They'd arrive, Anton shirtless, unaware of the eye candy his body had been with every bump the car hit. Not seeing how his softer body would jump for each one. He'd look over at his passenger, finished with the drive, eyes glazed over and waiting. His passenger would reach into their shorts, pulling out his payment. Anton leaned over, happy to take another deposit.

[change-your-instinct]

John thought being part of the construction team would be harder. He was down on his luck, recently fired from his old job. Finding nothing else to do, he needed a way to pay his bills. He was surprised he got hired so fast to the team, the interview with the GM a simple glance up and down.

"You lift weights?"

John simply nodded.

"You'll do."

John was introduced to the crew that morning as the load manager. "Just stick with the group, they'll let you know when they need you," He was told. That seemed simple enough.

He did as instructed, following the men around. They seemed to ignore him, at least, until lunch.

"Hey load boy, get over here."

John walked unsteadily over to where the man sat with a small group, the few eating lunch by the lumber. The man stood, clearly done with his food, and immediately John felt small. They stood almost a foot over him, at least twice Johns size in weight and muscle.

"Looks like you're new here, guess we should get you prepped." They said with an unsettling look.

John felt like a building was collapsing on him as the man stepped forward, towering over him. John could almost imagine the floor shaking. Once they were in arms reach, the man's thick hands gripped John's shoulders, easily turning John around like a toy. Before John knew what was happening, he felt his pants pulled down in one swoop, his nether regions completely exposed to the site.

John stood, too shocked to say anything in that moment.

"First mistake, don't wear underwear. It only gets in the way." The man said, their hands moving up to Johns ass.

"What the fuck!?" John shouted, finally finding his voice. "Get the fuck-" Before John could say another word, a huge calloused hand wrapped around John's mouth, it's digits sliding between his teeth to prevent any more noise from coming out.

"Second mistake," The giant said, their voice angry. "Don't make any fucking noise."

John felt like he could have been crushed. With that single grip, his back was being pulled into the huge wall made of soft flesh and muscle. John did his best to wiggle out of it, but his efforts were useless. He heard a wet pop from his aggressor's mouth, and in the next second a slick thumb shot into his anal cavity. It happened too quickly for John to react, the digit making it all the way in before his sphincter collapsed around it.

John's legs went numb. Pain enveloped his entire rear area as it tried to force out whatever was inside it. That seemed to only grip the thumb tighter, his body acting like a popsicle with almost all his weight supported by the strong hand wrapped around his taint. He felt helpless as he was carried a few steps over to a palate of wood the height of a bed, his torso set to lay down across it with his ass over the side.

The hand pulled out of John's mouth, allowing pooled saliva to drain from his lips tainted with the grime and sweat of the day. John lay there, struggling to focus on what was going on. He felt his rear start to shake, his muscles losing strength and allowing the remaining digit inside him to wiggle his hole looser before pulling itself out. John felt sweat start to drip from his skin- not from the heat of the sun, but the exhaustion that seemed to take his body that preventer him from pushing himself up from the lumber

John didn't need to look to know the behemoth was shucking their pants. From their visually prominent bulge seen earlier in the day, they had to be the most well endowed man on the crew. That was confirmed when John felt the slab of meat laid over his crack, the head dripping onto the lowest part of his back. The aggressor's hands easily pulled John's ass apart, his soft cheeks barely allowing the giant tube into his crevice.

John closed his eyes as he felt the shaft stiffening and pressing in further, finally arriving at the hole he wiped on the toilet. He couldn't stop it, his muscles in that area too weak as the head stretched his loose exit and continued in. It was painful pressure, incessant, pushing deeper and deeper until something changed.

John's face was tight when he felt it. Something wet dripped from the tip of his tool, certainly incited from the pressure in his rear. As more drops fell with every new inch contained, he felt his skin set ablaze, hypersensitive to the cool air surrounding him. He let out a whimper, letting the sensation take over and tension leave his body.

"Oh yeah" He heard a low voice say behind him, the rest of the tool more easily able to slip in. Their hand returned to John's mouth, bringing back the same salty taste from before. John didn't stop it, allowing the digits to set on his tongue. He enjoyed the flavor this time. He stopped resisting, an erotic golden sensation taking over his mind as he was violated.

Once the man started pumping inside of him it was over. John didn't want it to stop. He wanted to stay in this state for as long as possible, weak, being taken advantage of, all because of how good it felt. How he couldn't stop his tool from leaking onto the floor. How he couldn't stop another man's tool from giving him pleasure. How his body was trapped in their grip, defiled, with nothing to do but enjoy it and let the flavor of their skin drip down their throat.

John felt a tear drip down his cheek. Not because he was sad or afraid, no, but from how euphoric it felt to let go. How good it felt to not care, how good it felt to be an object of use to the man behind him. How he heard his predator grunt in pleasure, clearly enjoying himself, and finally releasing his seed inside John's cavity. John could feel it fill him up, a warm wet pool in his groin, bringing a warmth to his prostate that he didn't know was possible.

The worst part was when the tool slipped out. John felt the cold air on his insides as wet fluid leaked from his insides. He felt his hole gaping, exposed to the air as the man stepped away.

The void didn't last long, another man soon take in its place- they had lined up behind him to make the best of the situation. John's end was loose enough for all of them now, not able to keep any out. Each man brought John close to climax, but not enough. It kept John on the edge of release, needing more. Wanting more.

Once they finished, John lay there for the rest of his work hours, unable to move. He passed out, constantly reliving the afternoon in his head. He was woken up with his pants around his heels by the GM, a proud look on their face. John trembled as he leaned down to get himself back in order, pulling the clothes back on, his rear set from the leakage that dripped out from his insides.

He felt humiliated, scared, wanting to run away from the superior. He wanted to quit right there, never return, but stayed in place with his hirer in front of him.

The GM pulled out their wallet, bringing out a wad of cash. "I counted about 11 men pleased, so that's $50 per man... 550 dollars for the day." The GM said with a smile, holding out 11 bills.

John's stood there, shocked for a moment, looking at the cash at a rate he would never have made at his old job. He took the cash in his palm, not knowing really what to do with it, before looking back up at the GM.

"Just come back tomorrow," They ordered, looking directly at their employee. They began to turn before pausing, looking back at John. "As a tip, wear a jockstrap from now on" They said, winking, before continuing leaving John there.

It wasn't long before John spent his time at the site wearing nothing but a Jockstrap, his body meant to serve any way he could.

[change-your-instinct]

The officers always did morning stretches in the gym with the station's fitness instructor. The man himself looked as inflexible as possible- built like a wall, their body a keg that seemed able to bend like a cartoon. They seemed to take interest in Roger, another built officer whose size always got in the way. Strong and massive, the stretches was something Roger felt important to stay uninjured. The instructor noticed, taking pride in the massive student and often giving Roger tips to keep himself mobile.

The instructor often asked Roger to stay behind, always taking a moment to give the special instruction. He'd reach out to shake roger's hand, almost seeming to try to shake Roger awake while thanking him for coming. That he'd see Roger next time. Once our o the room, the clocks always seemed wrong, always at least 5 minutes after the session was expected to end.

After one morning of stretches, Roger felt himself being shaken awake with a comment he hadn't expected. "See you at my place tonight" The instructor ordered, maintaining eye contact. Roger nodded, knowing the plan was set. Something was off however- Roger didn't remember making any plans at all. When he pulled out his phone, he saw a text from the name "Sir" saved in his contacts, an address included. Roger knew it was the fitness instructor's number and put his phone away, letting it slip his mind how he couldn't remember putting the contact on his phone in the first place.

That night he showed up at the instructor's home, let in by the gentle giant with a firm handshake.

"Just follow me" The instructor ordered, turning to lead them further into the building.

"Yes sir." Roger said, stepping over the clothes he couldn't remember taking off, his skin exposed to the air in the room. His feet fell heavily on the floor, shaking his body just slightly with each step as he walked to the bedroom. The sheets were white, the instructor motioning to get on.

"Let start by stretching" The instructor said, helping Roger onto the mattress.

It was nothing Roger wasn't used to, getting in position to shift his body. There was a hungry look in the instructors eyes, using his hand to more easily allow Roger to shift his weight.

"Just relax" The instructor said, moving Roger's torso forward from his kneeling position. "And sleep."

Rogers body fell limp, more relaxed than he'd ever been. It only took a little more conditioning for Roger to be permanently in duty to the sir, waking in the arms of the giant who's seed was already pumped deep in his ass

[change-your-instinct]

Chad had noticed something different about his gym partner. He'd become vacant during gym sessions, spacing out between sets with earbuds in. It'd rake a moment to bring him back to attention, taking away time from their pump. Despite the new attitude, something definitely had shifted. They seemed to have stopped taking care of themselves and shaving, but at the same time their muscles were popping out more in their tanks.

Chad, annoyed when he finally had to get his spotters attention for the fifth time, finally asked what the hell they were listening to. His partner smiled, showing him the file on his phone saying it helped him train. By the end of the day it was on Chad's device, opened and playing the next time Chad was in the gym.

The gym hadn't been more simple. The time seemed to skip by, Chad walking out of the gym exhausted and forgetting the showers. He'd never consciously choose the file anymore, the habit engrained from the first play. He couldn't remember what the file was either- it seemed to be ambience, voices in the background, noise that distracted him from the presence. By the time it finished his muscles would be sore from the workout, already done for the day.

He didn't notice the hair taking over his face until he had a full beard, not that he had the ability to care anymore. He hadn't manscaped over the same time either. His body had developed a fur coating that drunk in his sweat, the smell permanently settling into his pores. It was much easier not to think, his scent taking up most of the space in his head. Not that there was much space left in it either.

That didn't take away from the build he was getting, his body quickly showing tone. Chd saw it, his body shirtless in the mirror every day. He'd stick his tongue out, not realizing he still had his earphones in as the file played. Not that he could see the hair continuing to take over his silhouette, his brain dumber and more vacant as he continued listening to it. It was only a matter of time before he would no longer need the file, a fully himbo.

[change-your-instinct]

James has taken his Dad's cock so many times, he didn't realize how much it had changed him. They had gotten together when he was a young adult, needing a role model to bring him into the scene and help him grow. It seemed like simply a coincidence that they ended up partners, not that James had been shaped into the ideal boy by his mentor.

James had started off a twink, taken under John's wing. John didn't want the boy to slip through his fingers, enforcing dependency on him. Making James feel good, but only when James obeyed. When James followed. When James was a good cumdump. John engrained the habits into his new boy, taking him to the gym, the same barber, only rewarding his boy when called "Dad" like he should be.

James, ignorant to the dynamic, let his John take advantage of him. He drank enough of his dad's cum he could hardly smell anything else, only knowing his use as a sex toy. He didn't realize how much of his mind had soaked in the fluid, trained to be obedient. How much his body began to resemble his dad's as his master's testosterone pumped through his body.

They developed the same body hair pattern, the same beard growth. But James had it thicker, fueled by his Dad's seed. His hole had been trained to take his Dad's cock multiple times a day. Needing to take his Dad's cock multiple times a day. Needing to serve every day. That if he didn't, he was a failure. James saw his Dad as his entire world, and there was no where else James belonged but being used under him.

[change-your-instinct]

When Marco first stepped into Tony’s Famous Pizza, he carried himself like an athlete- because he was one. Years of football and weightlifting had him broad-shouldered, thick-armed, and tightly muscled. His new chef outfit clung proudly to the body he'd worked so hard to build.

Marco remembered catching Tony’s eye that first day, the way the older man’s gaze lingered just a little too long on his chest, the way he smiled like he knew something Marco didn’t.

"Skinny kid," Tony said with a rough chuckle, clapping him hard on the back. "Don’t worry, you’ll fill out."

Marco laughed along, brushing it off. He thought it was just the usual teasing. He didn’t know how right Tony would turn out to be.

At first, it was little things. Tony insisted Marco "taste everything”: New pies fresh from the oven, late-night slices after cleaning up, bowls of buttery pasta slid across the counter with a wink. "You gotta love it if you're gonna sell it," Tony said, pushing another plate into Marco’s hands, warm and smiling.

Something about it made Marco's chest tighten in ways he didn’t want to think too hard about. He figured he could afford a few indulgences. He was young, active, still hitting the gym when he could. What harm could it do?

The weight crept on faster than expected, Marco hardly noticing the first few pounds. It started with just a little softness at the waistline, revealed by a tell-tale tightness when bent over to tie his shoes. Then the sleeves of his polos clung a little too close to his arms, no longer defined cords of strength but thick round slabs of muscle. Marco chalked it up to longer hours and less time for workouts. Then his stomach, once flat and firm, started to develop a slow, stubborn curve forward to go along with his appetite. 

Tony noticed. Oh, he noticed.

Marco saw it in the way Tony’s eyes lingered when he wiped sauce from the corner of his mouth. Then the way Tony’s smile grew wider whenever Marco leaned back in a chair and his shirt rode up, exposing a flash of his growing belly. He noticed the casual brushes- Tony’s hand lingering on his back longer than necessary during a busy rush, a playful nudge that seemed to savor the growing heft under Marco’s uniform.

"Looking good, kid," Tony would murmur when Marco leaned over the counter, the buttons of his shirt opening just a little at the stomach.  "Starting to look like you belong here," he'd tease, handing Marco another slice, another bowl of pasta, another dessert still warm from the oven.

At first, Marco told himself it was nothing. Friendly teasing. A joke between coworkers.

But deep down, he liked it. He liked the way Tony eyed him constantly like he was becoming something. Something wanted. Something irresistible.

Marco should have resisted. He should have pushed back, hit the gym, bought salads instead of scarfing down mozzarella sticks between deliveries. But every time Tony’s gaze hit him- warm, proud, possessive- Marco’s willpower melted like cheese in the pizza oven. He loved the feeling of fullness after a heavy shift meal, the slow heavy stretch of his belly rounding out under his shirt. He loved the way Tony’s hand would brush accidentally against his growing sides when they squeezed past each other in the tight kitchen. He loved the way Tony looked at him — not just with approval, but with hunger.

Marco wanted to believe he was just trying to make Tony happy.

But another part of Marco, a secret, hungry part, wanted to see just how far he could push it.

Marco started indulging more openly. Extra slices at lunch turned into whole pies. Late-night taste tests became decadent dinners. Marco lingered after closing, splitting deep-dish pizzas with Tony, licking buttery crumbs from his fingertips while Tony watched with a gaze that turned hotter by the day. 

While Marco’s strong athletic build softened, plumped, expanded- Tony only seemed to encourage it more.

Marco could feel his body changing eagerly under the pressure, faster than he could control. His once trim waist grew heavy, rounding forward into the proud curve of a fat stomach. His strong chest softened, the firm muscle giving way to weight that bounced slightly when he moved. His wide, powerful arms lost their cut entirely, burying themselves under a soft, pillowy layer. His thighs grew massive under his new size, chafing when he walked forcing him to have a slower, heavier stride. 

The worst was the effect on his clothes- every week it seemed like something new didn’t fit. His shirts had tightened around his chest, then lower, clinging embarrassingly to his thick belly. He’d tug a polo over his head only to find it riding up his midriff, exposing the whole horizon of flesh underneath. His work pants bit into his sides, leaving angry red marks on his hips by the end of his shift.

Marco could feel the customers’ eyes on him. He could see how they glanced at the way his gut pushed out, how he’d have to lean back a little to balance the weight. He burned with embarrassment forced to adjust his shirt, trying to pull it down over the soft roll hanging out at his waist. He was growing too fast, too obviously.

Yet… Every time Marco caught Tony looking at him, eyes dark and full of pride, a bolt of heat shot through him that made it all worth it.

It was humiliating. Yet, at the same time, it was thrilling.

Marco could feel himself becoming something bigger. Heavier. Softer. A living, breathing symbol of Tony’s pride and attention. Every new pound was evidence of how much Tony wanted him, how much he belonged in Tony’s kitchen. In Tony’s restaurant. In Tony’s life.

Some nights, Marco would lay in his bed after another long, heavy shift. His belly would be full to bursting, his body sore from standing and eating all day. Almost immobile, he’d run his hand over his growing middle, smiling to himself. He was becoming Tony’s project. His creation.

Marco didn’t just accept it — he wanted it. He wanted to grow bigger. He wanted to become so fat, so heavy, that there was no hiding it anymore. No pretending he was just a chef who liked to eat. He would be Tony’s, through and through — round, soft, overflowing with the life Tony poured into him even if the whole world could see it happening. Especially because the whole world would see it.

One night, after a particularly indulgent shift that ended with an entire tiramisu polished off between them, Marco lounged back against the booth seat, his belly heavy and tight, the polo stretched wide across his gut and revealing his midriff. He groaned softly, shifting his bulk, too full to hide how much he had changed. 

Tony sat beside him, the room spinning with the smells of garlic and yeast. Leaning in close, his voice was low and rough with something heavier than teasing.

"You keep growing like this," he murmured, hand grazing Marco’s thickening side, "and I'm gonna have to buy you a whole new set of uniforms. Maybe just stitch Service Bull across your back and call it a day."

Marco, half-drunk on sugar, heat, and Tony’s nearness, grinned lazily. His cheeks burned, but not with shame.

"Yeah?" he said. "You like seeing me get bigger?"

Tony didn’t answer right away. Instead, his hand pressed firmly against Marco’s side, fingers sinking slightly into the soft flesh that hadn’t been there months ago.

When he finally looked up, meeting Marco’s eyes, his voice was low, certain.

"Yeah. I really, really do."

That was all Marco needed.

All the permission. All the encouragement. All the want he craved.

From that night forward, Marco leaned into it hard. He stopped pretending. He ate when he was hungry. He ate when he wasn’t. He let himself grow, surrendering completely to the slow, delicious swell of his body under Tony’s gaze. He polished off leftovers after every shift, snuck bites in when he wasn’t even hungry, showed up early just to "taste test" the new batches. 

Tony was always there. Always feeding, always watching, always wanting. The two lingered over lunches that grew heavier, lazier, longer. Tony would feed him from his own fork sometimes, laughing, teasing, rewarding Marco with warm looks making his belly and heart ache with need.

The changes became impossible to ignore, and impossible to hide. Marco’s chiseled jaw softened into a heavy beard that framed rounded cheeks. His chest, once proud and firm, broadened and sagged into heavy warm shelves of muscle and fat. His belly swelled into a massive globe, pushing the hem of his polo shirts up even while he stood still. His rear and thighs thickened so much that he split two pairs of pants in a single month. 

Tony just laughed, clapping him on the back and ordering the next size up. Then the next. And the next.

Marco couldn’t deny the flashes of embarrassment. Every day at work the glances from the customers continued, staring at the way his belly jutted out leading the way, the way his arms brushed against his thickened sides with every move, how he had to catch his breath after lifting a heavy tray.

It scared him sometimes when he saw old photos tucked in his phone: the strong, chiseled chef that had started at Tony's Famous Pizza full of ambition. His old body, the tight muscles and hard edges had been buried under the thick, plush layers he’d built up, layer by layer, bite by bite.

Marco had become a fixture of the restaurant, a big, boisterous, red-faced "Service Bull" who could toss pizza dough one-handed and polish off a tray of garlic knots without missing a beat. His booming laugh filled the kitchen and the front room. His sheer presence made Tony’s Famous Pizza feel warmer, fuller, realer. The public exposure stung sometimes, being seen like this, watched by his friends as his body expanded uncontrollably.

But then Tony would be there, catching his eye across the kitchen, giving him a wink or smirk, a low, possessive look that sent a warm thrill through Marco's belly even deeper than the food ever could.

Then, behind closed doors, it became something more.

It started with casual touches in the kitchen, a palm grazing over a wide hip, a playful tug at the hem of Marco’s shrunken shirt when it crept up to expose his heavy middle. Then kisses, stolen in the back room between orders- hungry, desperate kisses. Marco, massive and soft, couldn’t stop himself from being pushed against the stainless steel counters. He loved the feeling- Tony’s fingers gripping greedily at every thick curve, hands roaming without shame over everything Marco had grown for him. 

"You’re perfect," Tony whispered once, lips trailing along Marco’s flushed neck as Marco leaned against the cool metal wall, belly rising heavily.

"You made me this way," Marco whispered back, grinning, breathless. "Better thank yourself."

And Tony did — again, and again, and again.

By the time Marco fully grew into his "Service Bull" title, he was nearly double the size he had been the first day. The red uniform that clung desperately to him was strained at every seam, its fabric pulled taut across the wide curve of his stomach and the immense bulk of his upper body. Nothing could hide the permanent strip of skin visible underneath his shirt, his pants completely incapable of staying entirely above the waist. Marco’s thick arms had stretched the sleeves to their limit as he worked while his massive belly hung proudly over his beltline, heavy and warm against his thighs. The rest of his body jiggled and shook when he walked, a slow, confident swagger that filled every room he entered.

Tony couldn’t keep his hands or his eyes off of Marco, neither of them wanted that. After all, there would only ever be more of Marco to be appreciated.

[change-your-instinct]

Slave doesn't remember being my boss, not that he remembers much anyway. He was a hirsute brute with excessive testosterone, using work as an outlet to be a hardass and screw everyone over. All it took was a swinging pendulum to get his attention and make him forget everything.

With all his pent up hormones, it was easy to find a new outlet for him. We took him out to leather and kink nights, parading him around the bar in chaps and harnesses. Dripping sex with his toned body and furry coat, it didn't take long for him to disappear into the back with several men, often not seen again until the end of the night. We'd find him on the floor, passed out, plenty of fluids dripping from his body.

We sold him to the highest bidder, making up for all the bonuses he never paid. They didn't care about his history or wardrobe, saying they'd make sure to provide everything the slave needed. The last we saw of our boss was his back profile in an online ad, offering services to anyone who was interested. It was a win-win for everyone.

[change-your-instinct]

Something was definitely changing about your partner. You didn't know when, but his arms and chest had grown a lot thicker than they were before. You noticed them now almost every day waking up, barely able to wrap around your body with their new girth Even when he was wearing a shirt, the fabric was tight against the musculature, further emphasizing the size difference.

That wasn't to mention the size of his shaft. He'd always been well hung, but now a bulge was present in anything that he wore. He'd always been long, easily hitting deep inside you, but now it was constantly swollen, even moreso when he was using it.

You had to mention it once hair started cascading down his chest. It started with a beard, but now the rest of his body was filling out with the same scratchy material that you felt on your back every night. Not to mention the smell. It was barely noticable at first, but now the dense forest seemed to trap the sweat that constantly seeped from his newly warm-body.

You had to mention something when one morning you finally woke face first in it, your nose pressed deep into his chest. You were both out of bed. You were speaking to him, asking what had changed and why he didn't seem to shower as well anymore.

He smiled dumbly, less intelligence in his eyes then when you had first met.

"Oh these?" He asked, lifting his guns up over his head. "It's a supplement, all my gym buddies said it worked great at building them up and putting their partners in place. It definitely does work, doesn't it?"

His words sunk into your head. Something inside you caused you to nod, wanting to agree with him. "That makes sense..." You thought, until part of your mind managed to latch on to a handful words that he spoke.

"Hold up, what do you mean put their partners in place?" You asked, dumbfounded.

"Why don't you come and find out?" He said, turning his underarms in your direction.

Your body stepped forward, already inclined to follow his directions. It was too late before you finally realized what was happening. Like a trap his body wrapped around yours, pulling your face first directly into his pit. The world went dark as his giant arm took up your entire vision.

You gagged as you felt his humid scent rolling into you like a fog, consuming your senses. You couldn't pull yourself out, his hands keeping you there, your mouth given no other option but to keep breathing him in. You felt his taste slowly spreading onto your tongue, but you felt it go deeper. It began filling your entire head until slowly it became your entire world.

Everything was simple, everything became his. You had no purpose other than to serve him, every bit of your mind corrupted by his scent. You were his.

You didn't have to think as he led you over to the bed, letting you fall on your front and allowing him to access your rear. You didn't give a second thought as he mounted you, not that you were capable of that anymore. No, all you felt you needed to do was serve him.

The world fell into a rhythm as he pulsed inside of you, each of your breaths drawing in more of his taint that you could still taste on your tongue. It only took moments for him to finish, not that you cared how long it took anymore. All he needed to do now was lay down next to you pulling you into his body, allowing his musk to settle permanently inside you, claiming ownership of your body. You never would consider it your own after that point.

[change-your-instinct]

Dave was at the gym. Again. He didn't know why he suddenly had a habit of going. He'd never had an interest of building up his body or really any affinity for exercise, not that he was unfit. However, as soon as he got a membership on a whim, he always seemed to end up there.

It would never be intentional. Dave would be driving home from work or after running errands, nothing on his mind, only to find himself in the parking lot of his gym. He didn't question it. If he was there, he might as well go in.

It never crossed his mind that he never went onto the gym floor, much less had any gym clothes. He didn't care that he no longer wore his usual underwear. It never dawned on him that he only ever wore the same jockstrap every day now- one he didn't even remember purchasing. He didn't even notice how the straps and pouch had grown stiff from excessive fluids.

No, he walked into the locker room just to strip down, exposing the fur on his body that he'd stopped caring to maintain and showing off his musculature he barely needed to worry about exercising. The music in the changing room would consume his mind, making him forget anything that happened there. Making him forget how he'd pull out his phone, opening up apps to show his location. After all, there were plenty of men on the gym floor eager to get a load out.

Dave would be exhausted by the time he walked out, his whole body wet, fluids dripping from every crevice. He'd be glowing, his muscles spent from his workout, not giving a thought to how he couldn't remember the exercises he'd done, the positions he'd been in. He just knew they were tired from pushing and pulling, holding up his weight the entire time. He knew he'd end up back, whether he wanted to or not.

[change-your-instinct]

You'd always wanted to be him. You followed his videos, drooling over his hairy body, wishing you had the same features. You'd watched bottom and imagine yourself behind him, taking advantage of him. There was something about the way his fur wrapped him, the tone of his musculature showing through his curls as his whole figure was thrust back and forth by the man inside him.

You loved to imagine how much more masculine you'd be if you looked like him, how much more dominating. How you'd make just as hairy men tremble and prostrate themselves for you. It wasn't just a thought, it was an obsession. It was enough that you managed to buy a hat and pair of shorts that teddy auctioned off.

You couldn't have been more happy when they arrived, quickly tearing open the box. The only other thing inside the container was a note. "To future Teddy Bear". You smiled, imagining his body as yours. You didn't realize just how soon you'd get your wish as you stripped and put the clothes on.

You quickly hopped into bed, your hand down your pants as you worked to get a hardon. You imagined his body, the thought of it bringing the heat of arousal to your surface. You imagined his perspiration engrained in the shorts seeping onto your skin, his scent getting on you. You worked longer than you were used to, breaking a sweat, but something was wrong. You weren't getting as hard as you usually would.

Your cock felt larger in your hands than you expected. You weren't sure if you just didn't have the right grip, but as you looked around you realized everything else seemed just slightly larger too. You finally had a chance to look down at your body, and you froze.

Every inch of your exposed skin was now hidden below a light brown carpet, tendrils reaching across your entire surface. You reached up to the cushiony fluff, feeling the prickle of body hair on your chest as your hand dug through it. You felt the moisture of sweat in your new coating, its scent releasing into the air as your fingers dragged through the fine fiber.

You gasped in realization, but there was little your mind could do to process it, gripped by the heightened arousal flooding through you. Your cock was still stiff yet unresponsive, but there was another sensation growing that you weren't familiar with. You felt it in the core of your groin. Your legs flexed to try to reach it, but it felt like you were treading water unable to hit it.

You rolled onto your knees, sticking your ass out and imagining it taking a thick cock right behind you. You'd never bottomed before, but you had no doubt that it was what you wanted. The idea was like a shaft driven straight into your head, taking up all the space in your thoughts. You set your phone on the side of your bed to snap a picture, your arousal overriding any sane ideas.

In moments the shot was your new profile picture, displaying your new body donning a backwards cap, your shorts pulled down to expose your round ass. The face in it was one you could easily recognize, one you so often imagined beneath you. That's where you imagined it tonight, underneath anyone who messaged you, an unrelenting nature to be used taking control of any thought you had.

There was no doubt in your mind. You needed to be used.

Good morning!☀️

[change-your-instinct]

James no longer had any workout clothes that fit him, much less what he had for PT during his service. He still loved the military, present in his hat and every pair of briefs he owned. Of course, once he was discharged, he let himself go, indulging in the freedom to grow out a beard and drink as much beer as he could. Combined with the absence of exercise, he'd grown at least twice in size in no time.

It was too late when James noticed his stomach beginning to peek out from under his shirts. He'd always been massive, but now the shaking bowl of lard attached to his front had affected his stride, his thick legs having to heave it side to side with each step causing a wave traveling through his entire body with each footfall. He thought he'd easily be able to return to his miltary habits, running and lifting, but there was no way his body was suited for that anymore.

James continued growing despite his futile efforts in the local gym. His shirts constantly rode up, exposing his gluttonous belly during each exercise. His beard served better to hide his ever-growing chin, his day shorts unable to stop falling from the jelly-like mass that made up his rear end. There was no stopping how thick James was growing, but that didn't hinder James from exposing just how big of a pig he was becoming in a clearly losing battle.

[change-your-instinct]

The most important part of joining the football team was joining the fraternity as well. Each new recruit was quickly pushed to pledge, both by their teammates and their coach. All fit and gung-ho, they easily pile on the wagon, seeing it as just another step as becoming part of the team. They're excited to be closer with their peers, freely following, not expecting the consequences.

It isn't long until they discover Coach's generous sponsorship of the fraternity's beer supply. Each month, a new pallet would arrive behind the house, the whole fraternity making sure to bring it in. The only rule was for it to be gone by the time the next one arrived, the brothers quickly digging into the supply. It soon became clear to the pledges where all the extra carbs and poison went.

It started as hazing, each pledge forced to guzzle as much as possible in order to deplete the supply and bloat their stomachs. It's a hard step at first, but soon the pledges can't stop themselves. It becomes engrained in them, each day to down several beers, constantly needing their expanded stomachs to be filled with the drink. At the end of the day, it's all apart of coach's plan.

It only takes a month for the recruits' bodies to begin showing signs of the extra calories. Their lean toned frames fill out, their new constantly bloated stomachs noticable under each of their shirts. Their abs are far gone, their softened chest rounding out with a layer of added bulk. They feel it in practice, their shirts tighter, riding up to reveal their growing size that jumps with every step.

The only piece of clothing that seems to keep up with them are their elastic jockstraps, despite the bands digging further and further into their sides pushing out the new fat. Soon it's the only thing they can wear as they chug their drink, their bloated stomachs continuing to push out over their waists. They might as well be containers for the beverage, round balls of muscle and fat made to grow.

In the end, Coach got exactly what he wanted. The freshmen on the field are unrecognizable from the lean men that had joined just months before, instead huge mountains of mass in their place. They were bigger and heavier than the opposing team, their jerseys filled out with the excess padding on their frames. Coach had built a wall on the field, a line of rookies with extra weight that made them unstoppable. They'd only continue to grow the rest of the year.

[change-your-instinct]

Marco should have taken more attention when his boyfriend called him a pig. Marco was in no way fat. Attending the gym five times a week, his body was all muscle, highlighted by the smooth skin that was shaved almost daily. Jealous eyes would follow him through each exercise, watching the naked tone of his mass exposed in string tank tops and biker shorts. He had quite the ass and thick legs, not to mention the biceps, but all of it was hard mass.

Marco thought the nickname was from how much he loved to take cock. Marco was a huge bottom, something his boyfriend adored. Marco was ready to go each night, his hungry partner always taking advantage of the opportunity. His boyfriend would make Marco oink as he took cock, the bottom always left in a sweaty mess unable to walk after each session.

Then, his boyfriend wanted to fuck before each workout. Marco could never deny, the pleasure of being used too tempting to deny. It always ended the same way: Marco too spent to make it out, the two deciding to get food instead. Marco didn't care to realize that his time in the gym became nonexistent. Now whenever gym was on their schedule, Marco knew what would truly happen instead.

Marco was too happy to notice the extra weight making its way onto his hips. He didn't care that his clothes wrapped his softer mass tighter, his stomach spreading over his waistband and filling out his shirts. His chest dropped, the his pecs melting into thick fat tits that creased above his stomach. His rear was still his thickest asset, the seat of his pants pushing out further than before like a soft plush cushion.

All Marco noticed was the extra attention his boyfriend gave him, how their hands eagerly explored the soft flesh, grappling with the curves that surrounded Marco's body. The digits felt better than they had prior, digging deeper into Marco's body, happily holding Marco's love handles as the owner's seed was pumped deep into the compliant container.

Marco was given a pink thong as a symbol of being a good pig. When Marco tried it on though, he knew something was off. It was supposed to be in his size, but it cut into his flesh, rolls of fat hiding his view of the fabric that rested nuzzled into the softness. Marco had to take a picture in the mirror, only now realizing how much his body had grown, and how much of a pig he had become. There was no stopping it.

[change-your-instinct]

I knew what the shirt meant the moment I walked in. He was sitting there waiting in only briefs, cigarette in hand. The prominent bulge and heavy smell of smoke told me he'd been waiting a while.

"Welcome home son," He mentioned, almost immediately rising to his feet.

As usual, my heart skipped a beat as I watched his height grow more imposing. His bulky figure stood over mine, it's silhouette one that would entirely cloak my own. I felt small. His arms were massive, veins bulging out from under the sleeves that could barely wrap his muscle. The widest point of his biceps couldn't be held by the seams. I had to look up at his wry smile as his hands wrapped around my wrists, his sharp eyes betraying the thoughts in his head of making me submit to his will.

"Come on boy" He said, his fingers wrapping under my shirt and grazing my stomach. I felt his exhale on my face as he lifted my shirt up, it's foggy aroma filling my skull and leaving me lightheaded.

There was only one way this was going. My arms naturally extended to allow the rest of my shirt to come off, and with one finger he managed to drop my already loose pants. The air was suddenly cold on my naked skin, but only for a moment. He began to walk into me, his body temperature tingling on my surface as he pushed me backwards into our bedroom.

The moment my legs were braced against the side of our bed, his hands moved down dropping his own briefs. A full thick mast sprung out, leaving a solid gap of air between us that was at least 8 inches wide. It only took a moment before a thick drop of precum began to fall from its tip. He rose a hand to spit into before bringing its wide grip down around his shaft, combining with the moisture from its head.

"I'm not-" I began to say, knowing I had just come back from being out. Still, I knew what would happen anyway.

His lips connected with mine, shutting me up as he flipped me onto my back. He didn't care about my state, his hands expertly bringing my feet into the air like they were so used to doing. He needed little of his body weight to bring my ankles up to my head, raising my ass right into his groin. The rest of his mass positioned his tip right at my hole. He was going to enter whether I wanted it or not.

There was no time to react as he filled my space entirely, my tight hole convulsing around him. I would have gasped, but our locked lips kept me silent, only a dull moan escaping my throat as he sucked my breath from me. I could only submit, relax as he began to move in and out, hitting my prostate over and over until my groin was wet with leakage.

I couldn't control my excitement as it grew entirely through his own actions. It was a losing battle, my body overcome with waves of euphoria. My muscles grew looser and looser, allowing him more control ove. My groin was on fire with an erotic buzz, numb to anything but pleasure. I couldn't stop it, every moment the tingling more and more intense. I felt myself begin to shake.

Finally I felt myself erupt, a burst of wetness leaving my member and covering our connected midriffs. It went everywhere, the pooled precum on my groin allowing it to easily spread across my midsection and stream down my sides. The white moisture combined with our sweat and served as a lubricant, making our bodies increasingly slick against each other and making it easier for him to flow in and out.

That wasn't the end however- my owner decided when he was done. Feeling my orgasm underneath him and the increased humidity only seemed to egg him on further, his breath growing more animalistic and instinctual.

The world spun as he continued to hit my button, the buzz of arousal suddenly working itself back into my body. I felt his breath on my neck sending electricity down my spine, his deep gasps telling me he was getting closer. His elbows had me pinned under him, his full weight trapping me as his prized possession.

I lost control of my breath again as he thrusted harder and faster, my ass beginning to shake and tighten as a second orgasm began. He roared this time, bringing his body up in one final thrust and sending his seed deep into my stomach. I felt a pool of warmth spread inside me as several jets of his fluid filled my insides, my own cock shooting a few lackluster shots from its empty tank while ripples of pleasure tore through my insides escaping in a moan from my mouth.

I couldn't feel my legs as they sank back to the ground, my Sir's body collapsing next to mine. I could feel his sweat still on me, a stream of cum slowly working itself out of my loose hole. The smell of sex hung strong in the air.

It took a minute for my senses to return, my stomach suddenly groaning from the additional load it briefly needed to carry. Now with my lower track relaxed, there was nothing to stop anything else from coming out. I struggled to make myself stand, taking short steps with stiff legs to the bathroom.

I heard a whistle behind me, and turned to see my sir wink.

"Waddle my luck duck" He said, blowing over a kiss before watching my ass continue to make its way out of the room. That's how it was every time.

[change-your-instinct]

I walked into our room at the sauna, 13, my friend in tow.

"Damn, this place is awesome," He said, looking around. "You were here last week?"

I nodded. "Yeah, it was a lot of fun!" I answered, pulling off my shirt. I struggled to remember that night, wondering what happened, but knew in my head I needed to come back. We continued undressing, throwing our clothes to the floor until we were both standing nude.

"So what now?" He asked.

I stood silently, drawing a blank. I grabbed my phone, looking at the time. Eight O'clock. I was supposed to be here then, but why…

My thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. I looked up, already moving to open it before I knew what I was doing. A tall man stepped in, huge, bald with a bushy beard in the nude as well. I felt dumbfounded. Seeing him felt like an itch, I knew I recognized him but just couldn't place him.

Then he spoke, jolting my memory.

"Good boy."

I remembered. We had played the last time I was here, when he had made me a good boy… He had said he recognized me from the bars. He had seen a friend with me who he wanted to meet, so he asked me to bring that friend back to the sauna. I felt strange feeling of contentment well inside me, the sense of having been a good boy rewarding.

"Is this your friend?" The man asked sternly.

"Yes sir" I answered obediently. It was good to be obedient. I was a good boy.

I watched as he turned to my friend, extending his hand.

"Name's Hank"

I couldn't do anything as my friend out reached to meet the grasp. In a quick snap and a pull, he was out, head leaning against my sir's furry chest victim to the words whispering out of his mouth.

I didn't know what to do. No matter how hard I tried to think, my mind was stuck pulling up blanks, unable to process the moment. I couldn't come up with anything aside from that good boys follow orders. I was a good boy.

The next moment my friend was back, still in the middle of a handshake with my sir.

"And you are?"

"I'm a fuck toy" It responded without hesitating. I watched as the fuck toy's brow furrowed, a wave of confusion washing over its face, almost as if it didn't know its name. It looked over at me with an expected sense of recognition before turning to panic, eyes empty.

"So you're just a fuck toy?" The man in the room said, teasing, the toy's fearful expression returning.

"No, I'm… a fuck toy." The toy tried again, unable to respond any differently.

"That's right, just a fuck toy" The man said, reaching out to give a tug on one of its nips.

The toy gasped, its whole body jolting before losing balance and falling forward. The man caught the toy's weight, wrapping his hand around its chin and moving the toy against the wall.

"You're my little plaything, aren't ya?"

The toy struggled not to moan as the man's hands surveyed the toy's surface, his touch sending electric waves across the skin.

"I'm- not-" It managed to get out before my sir brought his fingers around the toy's sack, using his wrist to pin its cock to the body.

"Guess we need to fix that" The man grunted, using his grip to pull the toy onto his front pulling its rear toward his cock. The toy tried getting its hands between them to push itself away, but it was too late, the huge shaft managing to slip its head between its crack and into the toy's hole.

The pleasure was too much to handle. The toys eyes rolled up into its head, its body slumping back as it felt the rest of the tool into its body. An empty moan left its lips as its weight fell against its new owner, supported only by the tool inside it and the hand around its neck. Precum immediatelly began dribbling from the toy's member, pittering on the ground below.

My sir looked over to me while elliciting moans from his new posession, his grip around its nips. "You better get to cleaning that up, boy." He grunted.

I finally knew what to do. I stepped forward, kneeling underneath my sir before wrapping my lips around the free cock. I felt the toy shudder as its head moved past my lips, slick with its fluid. My sir had begun pistoning inside it, forcing the shaft deeper into my head with each thrust. I swallowed each jet of substance forced from the toy, following my instructions. A good boy followed instructions. I was a good boy.