idesofrevolution

[idesofrevolution]

One of the football jocks gave me a strange secret Santa present. It was one of the highschool jearseys and a pair of football cleats?? When he gave them to me he was drenched in sweat , dropping wet, and smelled strongly,

What's even stranger is I think he gave me his own cleats and jersey? Or he tried them on? BC both items smelled like him, maybe he was short on time?

I've neglected to do anything about them, as they just lay in my dorm still in the box, but for some reason, I can't get the picture of that sweaty, stinky muscular man out of my head

You stare at the box as you angrily stomp down the road. How did he know? Did he know? There’s no way he could have seen, unless some passerby saw and told him… which wasn’t entirely outside of the realm of possibility. Either way, you are not amused. If anything this “white elephant gift” seems more like a threat than anything else. So as you arrive at the athletic dorm, you get to Jabari’s door and start pounding away.

“Jabari! Open the door.” You hear the loud music pause, and hear the football players heavy footfalls approaching. As the door swings open, you’re met with Jabari’s smug, unimpressed expression. Standing shirtless in the doorway with a joint out of his mouth.

“The fuck do you want?” He spits out at you before looking at the giant box in your hands, shitty wrapping paper barely clinging to it. He smirks. “What, bro? You didn’t like your present?” He opens the door, inviting you in.

“No. I didn’t fucking like the present.” You look around the hallway, slinking into Jabari’s room unseen. The disastrously messy room stank of weed and the familiar stink that wafts from the box in your arms. You open the box, hit with somehow still wet funk pouring from the cardboard vessel. Dumping the contents onto the floor, you grimace at the sight of the stinking cleats, practice Jersey, and cumstained cheesy jockstrap sitting on the carpet. “This supposed to be funny?” Jabari leans against the counter, crossing his socked size 15 feet and staring at you with a knowing look.

“It was funny to me, bro. Had to trade names a few times before I got yours. I thought you’d like em.” He took another drag of the joint, blowing a puff of smoke in your face. You angrily swipe the cloud away, standing your ground.

“I don’t fucking like them. So I’m returning them.” You turn to leave, but before you so much as take a step, you feel Jabari’s calloused hand firmly gripping your shoulder.

“Nah, man. You ain’t goin’ nowhere.” He pushes you to your knees with little effort, right in front of the cleats. “The way I hear it, you really into this shit. Mine in particular gets you off.” Your face so close the cleats, you can’t stop yourself from breathing in that heavy stench. If he’d ever washed them, it was certainly years ago. “I got eyes everywhere, bruh.” You struggle against his grip.

“I don’t know what you’ve heard, but…” Jabari pushes your head forward even more, the tip of your nose slowly approaching the off white fabric of the cleat.

“Nah, man. I know what you do after every practice. You think you’re slick comin round and huffin my sneaks outside that door, huh? I thought you’d like a lil piece of me at home.” He presses your face firmly into the cleat, enough that you feel the damp grimy insole on your skin. “We don’t need some fuckin foot freak up in here jackin it to our smell while we chillin inside.”

You hold your breath as long as you can but you can only hold out so long. Your lungs spasm, and you take in a full whiff of Jabari’s foot funk. The sweat and grime of endless games and even more practices, all percolating and coagulating into one atomic bomb of stink. He’s right- your clandestine nightly activities must have been noticed despite your carefulness. He gives you a moment of respite as he releases his grip on your head, allowing you to pull your face out of the smelly cavern. You stare with insurmountable embarrassment at the cleats before you.

They sit there, inundated in the jock studs sweat. In a quieter, lonely moment alone, you’d be far more comfortable burying your nose into them. But with Jabari looming above you with a scowl on his face, so full of disdain and contempt… caught red handed, you feel nothing but shame.

“Strip. Now.” You feel your face flush pale white. Your breath gets caught in your throat, rendering you barely able to speak much more than at a whisper.

“Jabari… listen. I won’t do it again.” You try to turn to face him, only to get his socked foot pressed firmly onto the side of your face, pushing it right back toward the cleats. The smell is so fresh in the damp black socks, it has a different feel to it. The cleats, the trainers, they’ve been marinating for years in that stink. This is the source, and it’s so much better than you could have ever imagined.

“I said fucking strip, bruh.” You feel his meaty fingers grasp ahold of the fabric of your shirt, and with a single movement he tears it in two. “I’m tired as fuck of all y’all freaks huffin my straps and kicks when I’m not looking. Fantasizing bout me railin your dumbass. That ain’t consent, bro.” He rips your shoes and socks off your feet, tearing your shorts off as you sit there mortified.

“I wasn’t thinking! I’m sorry! You won’t have to see me again, I’ll leave you alone and you’ll forget I even exist!” Jabari puts his sweaty foot right onto your back, pushing you down to the ground, reminding you very clearly who it is that is in charge.

“Yeah you right. I’m not gonna see your ass again- I won’t even remember you. Now, put it on.” You twist your head one more time to look at him, just for him to plant that foot on your face, pushing it right back toward the cleats, jersey, and jockstrap. “All of it, bitch. Quick.” He claps his hands loudly, and you instinctively grasp the jersey, slipping it over your shoulders and letting it drape like curtains over your smaller frame. It hangs from your shoulders, almost pooling at your knees as you kneel.

“Come on, Jabari. This shit is weird as fuck. Just let me go home I won’t bother yo…” You’re unable to finish your sentence as he shoves his sweaty socks into your mouth, silencing you quickly as he holds the jockstrap in front of your face. You stifle your urge to sniff it, one last act of defiance before he slips the damp jock up your legs. You shudder at the warm wetness that surrounds your groin, the fetid taste of Jabari’s socks filling your mouth, groaning in euphoric anticipation for whatever he has planned for you. You feel the dank cleats being shoved onto your feet, the squish of his sweat and foot grime pressing onto your soles before they’re tightened and the grime surrounds your entire foot.

“There you go, bruh. It’s your fantasy right? Bein like Jabari, smellin’ like Jabari, lookin’ like Jabari…” His hand wraps around your neck, as he drags you toward his closet. He opens the door, his clothes getting pushed out of the way as your body starts to shiver and quake. “Imma let you marinate for a while, bruh. Let you take it in.” With relative ease, you’re tossed into his dark, cramped closet as he smugly scowls at you. Slowly, he shuts the closet door, plunging you into complete darkness, surrounded only by the stench of Jabari’s sweat and the ever increasing pulsations under your skin.

You reflect on what brought you here, all the times you’d snuck down the hall to bury your face in the cleats that now grace your feet. *Crack*

You reflect on the fantasies in your head of him jacking you off with those thick hands. *Squelch*

You reflect on the taste of those smelly socks stuffed into your mouth, unable to bring yourself to remove them. *Sluuuuuuuuuurp*

You close your eyes, imagining the world in which your fantasies came alive. Kicking back with him, slurping on his musky cock, not as a lil bitch but as his equal. *Whoooooosh*

You can feel the pain in your arms, your legs, your chest and groin… that ache of athleticism, that need to grow, that desire to dominate, that pride of strength and of virility instilled into you. *CREAAAAAAAAAK*

You shudder, feeling your growing bulge start to leak into Jabari’s jockstrap, imagining his sweat, his spunk, his smell all flowing into you. Inundating you, entering you, reshaping you in his image. “Unhhhhhhh” you groan, your voice deep and bellowing. *BOOOM*

Pressure grows throughout your body, you feel more and more cramped in the small confines of the closet, your thoughts growing hazy and confused, time seemingly floating by at a crawl. Then, amongst the cavalcade of aches, groans, and obscene sounds echoing in the dark; you begin to fade into the void yourself. The darkness overtakes you, and all you have left is the sounds of stretching and inflation ringing in your ears. *SNAPP*

———

Jabari looks down at his watch, paid for by some horny old man begging to worship his pits, and smirks. He takes his time getting up off the couch, leaving the Ravens game blaring on his tv. His massive soles slap against the tile floor, as he pushes the door to his bedroom open. To his surprise, the door to the closet is slid all the way open, the interior only full of his clothes. He smirks as his gaze slowly turns to the corner of the room, and there before his mirror, crouching low on muscled thighs and meaty feet is you taking some smutty selfies in his dirty mirror.

“Damn, bruh. You lookin pumped as fuck. Feeling like yourself again?” his voice is softer, like an older brother speaking to his younger brother. You turn your head, grinning your pearly whites while scratching your manicured chinstrap. Standing up, your eyes gaze directly into his, now of equal height and build.

“Yeah, bro. I don’t know what got into me.” You strut up to him, donned in only his jockstrap, now dripping with your thick and potent seed. Your hand collides with his, your biceps bulging beneath your mocha skin. “Feelin a lil pent up though, man. Think you could help a bro out?” You slip your calloused hand down the jockstrap, letting your massive python plop out of the fabric and hang halfway down your thigh. Your balls still dripping in sweat, half yours, half Jabari’s. He nods, his supple lips curling even further into a wicked smile as he wraps his fingers around your shaft. Time to blow off some steam before the game is over- besides, you have practice in the morning. Maybe some bedtime with bro is just what the doctor ordered.

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[idesofrevolution]

For y’all amazing tippers:

It’s time for Ko-Fi! If y’all like my work and would like to support it moving forward, I’d appreciate it dearly if you’d hit up my tip jar here. It’ll help take some of this pressure off, and help move the stories forward.

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[idesofrevolution]

I was on my way to a friend's house when I felt like a bite on my neck and then everything started to spin. Suddenly everything went dark as I felt the sweet hug of the void. Now I don't understand where I am. I'm bonded inside a weird pod kind of thing and I hear bipping sounds. Oh wait, i think I can find a way if I can just unscrew this ... Hey! Wait no, get off of me. What the fuck is that?! No Stop!! What is happening to me?! What are you doing?! Get those glasses off my face. No stop don't put this in my mou...MmmHHfffFFfffFfff...

You blink slowly as you open your weary eyes. Your temples throb and a dull pain in the back of your neck has you groaning with discomfort. As you try to raise your arm to massage your aching head- sudden, painful resistance. Groggy, you twist your gaze downward and immediately, you feel entirely alert with a sobering realization. Cold, rigid cuffs are clasped tightly around your wrists, binding you firmly to the cold metal table beneath you.

You shiver, your bare naked body lies on the frigid surface as you take stock of your surroundings. The room is dark, barely lit with a dim red light on the far concrete wall. From this vantage point, you’re just able to make out the industrial ductwork on the ceiling and rows of shelves lining the side of the cavernous room. The buzzing and whirring of heavy machinery is cacophonous and intense- your ears are ringing already, and the intense noises are only worsening your growing discomfort.

Suddenly, light. Bright, blinding light. You close your eyes, the pale white illumination overpowering your blurry vision. The clink of a lock and sound of a heavy metal door rolling open makes your heart drop to your toes. You feel your breath start to quicken, grow shallow, and quiet whimpers escape your lips as thumping footsteps slowly approach you. You turn your head toward them, and squint your eyes; there’s easily twenty more men restrained and passed out, and slowly approaching out of the wide open door is your likely captor.

They’re massive- easily seven feet tall, and extremely broad. From head to toe, they’re covered entirely by a mustard yellow rubber hazmat suit, their face entirely obscured by the gas mask atop their head. A long tube slithers out of it and into some strange canister attached to their hip; you feel yourself squirm as you see it seemingly undulating, as if something more than gaseous vapors were being pumped through it. The heavy rubber boots squeak as the captor arrives in front of your table, cocking their head to the right before flexing their arm.

You try to speak, but only hoarse, indecipherable groans are able to leave your mouth. The captor leans over you, reaching beneath your table and ruffling through contents below. You get a whiff of the heavy rubber, the scent of industrial latex wafting from the suit as you feel its slick texture slide over your dick. You moan ever so slightly, enough to catch the captors attention. Up close, you’re able to hear the machine strapped to their waist. Inside the tube, you can hear thick, viscous slurps and squelches as it shudders against your chest.

Beneath that mask, you swear you can feel the captor grinning wildly- what else would some lunatic kidnapper be doing under there? From under the metal surface, they pry out an item you can’t quite make out at first- though when you realize just what it is, abject terror fills your soul. A full black rubber gas mask sits in the captors hands, the tube dangling wildly as they slowly slide it over your head. The smell inside is intense- thick, concentrated rubber, and the heady stench of sweat fills your lungs to capacity. The interior is sticky, and it tightly suctions to your head as if vacuum sealed.

Bound and now arguably gagged, you’re unable to offer any resistance against them as they fasten a heavy rubber apron around your body, slipping on fantastically large gloves and boots onto your hands, arms, and feet. For a moment, the captor just stands at the foot of the table, cocking their head to the right and left, as if admiring their handiwork. You moan as you feel their rubbery grip slide up your bare leg, beneath the heavy apron and grasp your unintentionally hard cock.

The slow, deliberate strokes of your dick seem like a cruel tease to you- the slick rubber gloves feel as if they’re lubing themselves as they slide up and down your length. Your head is thrown backward in ecstasy, the sloshing of the captor’s tube and the wet sounds of your dick getting stroked echoing in your ears. So enveloped are you by carnal pleasuring that you don’t even seem to realize the captor taking ahold of the tube slinking down from the gas mask you’re donning. It’s only after hearing a metallic clink that you look down to see that the captor has detached their tube from the machine, and has attached it to yours.

Immediately, you feel a long rubber tendril extend from the mask, thrusting past your lips and into your mouth. It clamps down onto your teeth, fastening hard before you hear the grumbling start to emanate from the captor. Their tube starts to quiver again, and you can feel something rushing down from their mask. You have a mere moment of final panic before a torrent of liquid bursts into your mouth and down your throat. The taste is foul- as if you’re licking a tire, a condom, the sole of a sneaker… The rubber flavor matches the thick consistency; it’s gloopy, glue like and seems to have some sort of locomotion of its own as it plows down into your stomach.

Still stroking you slow and steady, the massive captor climbs atop the table, straddling your waist as they feed you the substance. Your stomach starts to distend as it fills, the uncomfortable feeling of fullness quickly becoming an enrapturing one. You find yourself hungrily drinking down the sludge, your belly growing larger and larger. Beneath the rubber apron, you see the bubbling of your abdomen bulging and squirming. Frankly, every ounce of care you had has melted away at this point. You’re so entirely lost in the pleasure that the reality of your situation is simply thousands of miles away from your mind.

Had it been present in your mind, you’d would realize that your quickly bloating stomach is no longer going to be able to contain the volume. Had it been present in your mind, you’d see the shrinking form of the captor slowly deflating on your lap. Had it been present in your mind, you’d recognize that the sludge in your gut is starting to spread outward- your chest and arms swelling larger and larger… But it isn’t present in your mind. You can only happily groan into the stinking rubber mask shellacked to your head, as your legs and feet grow large and long and your arms double, then triple in size.

Your skin stretches and warps, your bones crack and break. The suited captor is all but entirely gone, just the last vestiges of sludge inside a vacant hazmat suit sitting atop your bulking, bubbling quads. Your cock throbs hungrily as it stretches longer and longer, begging for more stimulation your hand cannot currently provide. As the last of the sludge barrels into your gullet, you hear a loud and sharp crack inside your head, and you scream as you feel the sludge squeeze inside of your skull, pressure building in your head as it penetrates your brain.

Then, silence. The only noise coming from your writhing, contorting body is the sounds of slimy schlorps, squelches, and stretching. The cuffs around your wrists and ankles finally release, and thankfully so. The meat around them is so swollen, so large, that the moment they unlatched, the deep canyons where they’d been quickly were filled in with sludge. Your body shudders and gargles, and still growing on the cold table. Your legs start to slide down off of the edge of the table until your gigantic feet gently touch the ground, even as you are laying on your back. Your arms follow suit, stretching longer and longer until your knuckles feel the hard cement floor.

The noises starting to subside, and your body finally ceasing to grow much beyond the 7’2” inflated muscle man you now appear to be. Your body begins to move of its own accord, your former consciousness all but entirely integrated into the captor now piloting your body. He takes his first breath as you- all of your memories, your knowledge, your language incorporated fully into his mind as he purges the remainder of who you once were. All you feel now is what he feels. All you think now are his thoughts.

Your gigantic hand reaches to the mask, ripping it off your head and revealing a face no longer your own- recognizable only to one with a keen sense of observation. In one swift movement, you launch yourself onto your feet, which squish against the cold concrete, the sound of the sludge still sloshing about within. The wet slaps of your footsteps sauntering out of the open door echo in the chamber as you pass the group of vessels, each waiting for their own assimilation and corruption in a deep slumber.

The door behind you closes in a loud thunk, as jets blow in every which direction while you strip the temporary conversion garbs from your body. Looking down, you quietly observe your new form- chiseled, wide, fit, tall… a serpentine footlong cock slithers and coils around your thick thigh. Your expression is unwavering, entirely stoic, emotionless, empty. All notions of human nature are completely gone- you once would have seen this form and immediately busted a nut. Though with him in control, it is mere indifference.

You continue walking down the cylindrical passageway, each step squelching loudly and leaving behind a slimy, wet footprint of your size 20 feet. You crack your neck, rolling your shoulders and hope the measly human skeleton within will gain its newfound strength sooner rather than later. Looking down as you walk, you cock your head to the right, and your cock immediately starts to unfurl from your leg. You allow some of your slime to exit from the slit, your baseball sized balls now churning enough to maintain yourself naturally, and watch as the rubbery black sludge begins to coat your lower body. It cascades down your legs, all the way down to your feet. More and more secretes from your groin, until by the time the door to the training room opens before you, your new uniform has already solidified into its elastic, slick solid state.

Inside of the room, your brothers are examining their new vessels, ensuring the conversion was complete and successful. If not, they’re purged from the human and return to their containment suits, still assimilated with their hosts intertwined in their minds. You lean back against the quaz’sirkk bars behind you, awaiting for one of them to come check you; you’ve been waiting some time for a vessel, and this time it’s a good chance it’s your forever home.

[idesofrevolution]

I’m really happy my roommate finally moved on from his toxic ex and is hanging out with some new friends, but I’m worried they’re a bad influence. Ever since he started hanging with them he’s gone from a sweet guy with a six step skin care routine to a cocky asshole who as he says is “embracing his natural smell”. I swear his friends are into latex or something because every time he comes back from hanging with them he smells like it and crazy enough I swear he squeaks too…

You stare at Nick from across the room, rolling your eyes as he takes yet another selfie of his new and improved form. Sweat drips from his mop like hair and onto his smooth, shiny skin. Ever since he left Randy, and thank god he did, he’s found a much needed respite in the local gym. He even found a couple of new friends, which of course you’re thrilled about. Seeing him so down and in the dumps for four weeks had you worried about Nick, but ever since the day he walked in through the door with those two giant dudes he met doing CrossFit he had a pep in his step and such a confidence boost. Cooper and Tre had doubled his size and musculature in a matter of days, which to you seemed impossible; but you were too happy for his blooming that you dismissed it as a successful CrossFit regimen.

And yet, this version of Nick that Cooper and Tre had brought out in him was something that gave you a bit of pause. For one, the smell. Showers started to be skipped a couple of times per week, clothes started to be reused time and time again at the gym… Clothes, as well, were being replaced faster than you could keep up with. Nick’s funky, colorful wardrobe had all but been emptied and replaced with athletic wear, sweats, and stringer tanks. You started to recognize your friend less and less. Standing there shirtless, in nothing more than his stinking gym shorts and rank socks, you couldn’t help but worry about him.

That isn’t to say he isn’t your friend anymore- he still laughs and jokes with you, albeit his humor is dirtier and more crass, but it’s good natured. He still goes out with you to the bars and plays wing man, though he does find himself in the bathroom with various hunky men more often than you’d like. He still happily hangs out and games with you on the weekends, though you have to light a couple of candles in the living room to drown out his scent. His scent… that heavy, buttery musk of sweat and unwashed laundry, with a hint of… oddly, fresh latex.

“Yo! Bro, I’m tellin’ you, you gotta come chill with Coop and Tre. Look at this shit!” Nick flexes his tatted arm, the fresh ink from a day or two prior glistens brightly atop the firm bicep. The gentle squeak of his shiny skin not going unnoticed by you.

“Sure man,” you fib, “sounds good.” Your disinterest in hanging with the two brain dead jocks shone through the lies. Nick sees this, the squishing sound of his socks echo in the bedroom as he walks over to you.

“Well, good! Tre is on his way over! Thought we could crack some beers and watch the game.” The game? The gym is one thing, you can wrap your head around the almost therapeutic experience of turning off your brain and just doing simple movements. But football? You raise your eyebrow.

“Since when have you liked football? You hate football.” Nicks face cracks ever so slightly, the first time you know intrinsically you touched on something he didn’t anticipate you to catch. Before he’s able to stutter out some form of reasoning, the knock on the front door saves Nick from your questioning.

“Oh shit, that’s him!” Nick dumbly chuckles to himself and squeaks out of the now ripe bedroom, his stench lingering in the air. You sigh, closing your eyes to take one or two deep breaths. Another smelly dude bro- delightful. The sound of the door opening, and a jovial ‘whassup bruh’ breaks your centering ritual. You stand up and approach the door, only barely hearing the quiet whispering of the two before you enter into the living room- the sight of Tre’s 6’2” jacked body greeting you.

“Whassup, my dude?” Tre’s shirtless form takes you aback, his muscles glistening just like Nick’s. Tre has always been a nice guy, relaxed and always down to kick back and just hang; even if he takes his sneakers off and fogs out the room with his cheesy foot smell, he had been nothing but kind to you. You have no reason to dislike or distrust him, and yet, here you are. You smile with a feigned civility, waving at him. Nick struts over to the kitchen and pulls out three Pacificos for you- one very clearly already opened before he pops the caps off the other two as if you hadn’t noticed.

“Let’s get comfy, boys!” Nick chimes and walks over to hand you your beer as you watch with exasperation as Tre kicks off his Jordans, the scent immediately hitting you like a train. The three of you clink your bottles together, and take a swig. At least, you certainly do. In the periphery of your sight, you see the two of them watch you for a split second before sipping their drinks as well. Nick throws his arm around you, the slickness of his skin immediately reminding you of the feeling of lubed latex as he guides the three of you to the couch, plopping down on it like sacks of potatoes.

Tre flicks his thumb against the remote, the game immediately coming onto your television as if it were playing just before it was last turned off. You continue to sip your beer, your eyes darting between Tre on your right and Nick on your left, both screaming and cheering with every goal. More and more you find that you don’t know Nick anymore, or at least who Tre and Cooper turned him into. An hour passes before halftime finally comes to pass, your Pacifico all but empty at this point. Finally, Nick turns to you, smiling as he sees you couch locked and borderline drunk. It was one drink, how are you feeling so goddamned weird?

“You need another one, bro?” Nick pokes your arm, which you feel compress and collapse against his finger. In the right state of mind, this would have obviously concerned you, but nearly unable to speak, you can do little more than shake your head no. “Yo, Tre. I think it’s setting in.” Nick’s face is bright and elated as he and Tre high five eachother before hopping onto their feet.

“Shit, bruh that didn’t take long at all. Not gonna lie, Coop. I didn’t think you’d be able to pull it off. You good in there?” You furrow your brow in confusion at Tre’s words until Nick slips his fingers into his mouth, pulling firmly until his face starts to peel away like a mask- squeaking and slurping until the face of Cooper beneath is revealed.

“Yeah man, feels amazing like always. Nicks’s givin me all the info I need. Only slipped up once!” The two jocks bump knuckles, before Cooper slithers his way out of Nick’s rubbery body. His feet slap against the floor, as Nick’s face snaps back to normal. Your eyes are open in horror and shock, before Nick shakes his head and reopens his eyes, grinning from ear to ear.

“Fuck yah, bro! Worked like a charm!” Cooper helps Nick to his feet, and the trio of jocks stand before you, their arms crossed and standing wide. “Fuck, man you’re gonna love this shit. I can’t keep hiding this shit from you and not share it!” You watch frozen, unable to move, feeling your body go limp and light as Nick and Cooper walk over to the couch and plop down on either side of you. “Bro, after Randy, I was ready to jump off the balcony. Then these motherfuckers found me at the gym and promised they’d be able to help me. Now look!” Nick flexes his arm, before grabbing his smelly foot and pulling on it. The meaty leg stretches longer and longer, the squeaks of his skin growing into warps until it snaps right back to normal. “What do you guys think? A month? Maybe two?”

“Sounds good, bro. It’ll be good to have you with us, bruh. You’ll be feelin better in no time.” With Tre’s words echoing in your head, you feel Cooper push you head back, letting it rest on the back of the couch before his and Nick’s fingers slip into the corners of your mouth. Your eyes nearly bulge out of your skull as they stretch it wider and wider, joking about how stretchy you are already. Tre walks around to the back of the couch and looks down at you, his left hand slipping into your wet, tight throat. “Let’s goooo!”

Tre shouts, removing his hand from your throat before gripping either end of the couch, swinging those huge smelly feet above your open maw. It happens quick and easy. The stench of his socks only lingers for one second before they slide across your tongue, the grimy texture making them slide down your throat quickly. His massive body slides inside of you with ease- the outline of his thick legs sliding beneath the skin of your chest and torso. The wet squelches and rubbery squeaks increase in frequency and intensity, as his ripe bulge and thick ass slips into you, your neck bulging wide as you feel his feet squeeze into yours. The skin stretches taut over his size 14’s, and your legs burst with his muscles within.

“Ay, a lil help, bro?” Tre stands up onto your feet, your wide mouth sits suctioned around his lean waist- the salty flavor of his sweat soaked balls sitting on your tongue filling your mouth with his flavor. Coop and Nick jump up as Tre raises his arms up, taking ahold of your ears in their fingers. Slowly, they tug up on your head, encasing his cobbled abs and meaty pecs within your body. You taste the ripe sweat in his wiry pits before his arms slide downward into your mouth, squeezing them deep within you until his fingers are just able enter your shoulders.

“Aight, bro! Pull!” Nick shouts loudly, and in seconds they pull your your head upward even further. You feel Tre’s arms squeeze into your own, and with a single roll of his shoulders, his hands slip into yours like gloves. You see Nick smile with genuine excitement as he pulls your your head over the back of Tre’s, tugging more and more until it snaps over his with a loud crack. You anticipated losing control, fading into black, lost in the ether… you couldn’t be more wrong.

“Ahh shit, lemme just…” Tre’s deep voice bellows out of your mouth, but deep in your mind you hear it as well. “Excuse the reach, bro. One sec.” He plunges your hands into your shorts, and you can feel his monstrous rod slipping and sliding around in your torso. He pulls on your skin, watching it stretch until his tip lines up with the base of your shaft. You’d moan if you could, feeling Tre’s slippery cock filling your own like rolling on a condom. He grunts as it distends your dick to match his 11 inches, his thick balls dropping into your sac with a wet schlorp. Tre stretches in your body, making sure everything is where it needs to be while Nick and Coop grab more beers.

“How… why…. How are you doing this?” Your voice echoes loudly around you. It doesn’t go unanswered, as your body plops right back down onto the couch, swollen with Tre’s musculature. He kicks your feet up onto the coffee table, his ripe foot funk now wafting from your soles.

“Heh, it’s a trip, right?” His voice booms in your head. “Just a lil thing my friend from New Orleans taught me once. Feels good, too.” Nick and Coop drop down onto the couch with a beer for ‘you.’ He takes it with your hand, unfamiliarly large and vascular. “Just sit back and relax, bruh. Let Tre show you how it’s done.” Your three bros clink their beers together, as you’re left to watch out of your eyes as they talk about how dope you’re gonna be.

———

Two months came and went, Tre took a bit longer inside you than had been planned- you two really bonded with him in the drivers seat. The way he swaggered down the street in your body, the way your rubbery skin glistened with his sweat, the musk that flowed from your feet, pits, and balls… you’ve grown to love it. You two talked almost every minute of every day within your mind, the feeling of having a bro with you at all times felt good and safe.

Feeling the thrill of lifting over 200 lbs with relative ease, the euphoria of him plunging your cock into dozens of men’s mouths and holes, the fraternal feeling of jacking Nick off in the sauna after a long lifting session, feeling like a sexy king with men and women drooling at your feet over your natural scent… you almost didn’t want Tre to exit you. When he did, it was bittersweet. Coop and Nick helped pry him out of your now jacked, musky fuckboy body, and it almost felt like on you were holding onto him inside of you. The moment he was out, though, your life really began.

You’re closer than ever with Nick, spending hours at the gym and at the clubs with him, fuckin boys and pumping iron. Every day is filled with crazy antics with the boys, Tre and Cooper are over almost every night kicking back with you, the bond unbreaking and unyielding. Just for yucks, you will squeeze into eachother, pranking eachother or just finding it a damn good way to feel close to your bro. In fact, the other day you fucked the shit out of this lil twink inside of Nick. The minute he walks through that door, you got a date tonight with him. You can’t wait to slip him on and use that dick of his, and he can’t wait either.

[idesofrevolution]

I started a new job recently, and that means that my new day-to-day dress code is business professional. It's so stuffy, restrictive, and, honestly, sweaty to be in slacks and a button up all week long. I'd really love to get some help relaxing and loosening up when I'm not at work.

You’re sitting at your desk, the sound of the old clock on the corner wall ticking away at a snail’s pace. You swear your boss intentionally bought a defective one just for plausible deniability- work never seemed to end! This gig was supposed to be a normal 9-5, but you fell into the trap most ambitious young folks do. When Mr. Garretty offered you a promotion, only a year after starting with the company, salary sounded like the best thing that could have happened to you! More money in your pocket, consistent pay, it’s so much easier for budgeting! Of course, you’d come to find out that 9-5 quickly turned to 8 to 9, 9 to 10, 7 to midnight… all for the same rate of pay. That exhaustion, coupled with the cost cutting measure of keeping the office at a brisk 79 degrees had you existing as little more than a semiconscious zombie for the corporation. The daily grind became your existence, that is until Garretty hired Robbie as the new office temp.

He strut in through the door that blistering July day well past noon, immediately making his presence known. Just in the way he dressed, he demanded attention. The tight black polo, the Cuban heeled boots giving his 5’10 stature another couple inches, tattoos sprawling across his smooth skin, but it was the bloodshot blue eyes that really tips you off to his true nature. The gentle waft of his musk as he walked by your desk tickles the hairs of your nose, your head mindlessly turning to follow him. Evidently, this is enough for Robbie to catch sight of your satisfied expression, your eyes meeting for merely seconds before he saunters into Garretty’s office for his ass reaming about being late on day one.

The week slinks by as usual- slow and long. You’re thankful, however, for Robbie’s presence in the office. His laid back, carefree attitude was such a comfort amongst the silent sea of workaholics nose deep in their computer screens. There is just something about the way he acts as if he owns the place- entirely indifferent about what people think, what punishment Garretty lops his way, he is consistently in a world of his own; and you want so desperately to be a part of it. In fact, so lost in fantasy are you that you barely notice when the clock strikes 6, and you start to lumber your way to the bathrooms. You aren’t prepared for the sight that greets you as you clear the door.

Robbie stands there in the far end of the bathroom in a way you’ve never seen him before. It’s always fascinating to see what your coworkers look like outside of the office, but this was far from the norm for you. He turns his head, the heavy cloud of mist flowing from his lips as he slips his vape into the pocket of his weathered jeans. His eyes are that familiar red, and his smile as dumb and easy as ever.

“Sup, bro! You gettin the fuck outta here?” He coughs a bit, tiny wisps of vapor still emanating from his lungs. You nod quietly, trying to hide the obvious blush on your cheeks. “Yeah this place is total bullshit. I’m just doing it to make the old man happy. You feel?” You smile at him, nodding yet again, praying that he’ll head out of the room, leaving you alone to fantasize about him. Fortunately for you, he smirks, and strides over to you. “Bruh,” his arm slides around your neck, resting gently on your shoulder, “I see you working your ass off all the fuckin’ time. Wanna come chill at my place? I’ll roll ya a good j if you’re down?”

The touch of smooth leather from his jacket sends goosebumps down your arms, and you find yourself nodding mindlessly- your body giving you the extra push to spend some time with Robbie. He smirks and ruffles your coiffured hair, leading you out of the bathroom, down the elevator, and into the parking garage. You hop into his souped up Supra, a gleaming cobalt blue paint job showing just fastidiously cared for it is. You hop in the front seat, realizing the car reeks of cannabis and ash; which in all truth, you consider to be ample preparation for smoking with him.

The car ride is quick, Robbie lives downtown in a fairly nice little studio apartment in a highrise not far from the office. He explains it away in the elevator as a bribe from his family to ‘grow up’ and take his life seriously at the ripe old age of 23. You reminisce about the similar push out of the house you had received when you graduated. Believing it to be a good thing, you express gratitude for your parents doing so. Robbie seems to disagree as the elevator doors open and he scoffs dismissively.

“Take it easy, bruh. We ain’t around Garretty here, you don’t have to play the goody two shoes.” He claps his hand onto your back, gently pushing you out of the elevator, and down the hall to his apartment. It is smartly appointed and clearly came furnished; the pristine leather furniture looked nearly unused, aside from the old futon right next to the balcony door. Robbie’s grinder and ashtray sit on the floor in front of it- you realize the reality of you being in your work crush’s home, about to smoke weed with him. This is something you haven’t done in years, so there is a small pit in your stomach as you take your loafers off and plop down onto the futon.

Rolling the joint takes all of 30 seconds for Robbie, as he slips it between his lips and ignites it. He turns to you, smirking as he lets out a thick cloud of smoke. You close your eyes and let the smoke cascade across your face as you hear him chuckling to himself with the vapid brainlessness of a well trained stoner. Opening your eyes, you see him leaning over you before quickly pressing the joint onto your lips. You take a deep inhale, feeling your chest swell with warmth and earthy flavor.

“Hold it, keep in for a sec.” You do as you’re told, feeling the warmth spread from your chest to your feet, your head becoming heavy and hazy. Robbie looks down with a knowing smile as your feet start to tingle. He watches gleefully as they start to inflate longer and wider, your arches growing high and your toes stretching long. You hiccup, feeling the smoke settle deep in your calves as they bubble with growth and take on a deep tan. “Hey bro, get comfy, dude. Take the slacks off, no judgement here.” He smirks as you do as you’re told- his sweaty fingers still shellacked onto your lips as you unintentionally inhale once more, your thighs ballooning out and tattoos rising to the surface of your skin. By the time your khakis are tossed to the side, you’re too high to even realize your legs are entirely unrecognizable.

“Atta boy just keep breathing it in.” Your groin stirs at Robbie’s continuous touch as your underwear starting to grow tighter and tighter. A thick bulge expands, patches of damp sweat spread from your swelling balls and allowing your virile funk to emanate from the musky fabric. “Nice n thick, bro. I’m liking what I’m seeing!” A low groan escapes your throat before you take another breath, another thick torrent of smoke flowing deep into your core.

Your midsection cracks, abs burst like popcorn beneath the skin of your lean torso. The tanning spreads further up, coating you in a wash of bronze. Your pecs billow outward as your shoulders widen, ink sprawling down your firm, hard earned biceps and forearms. Wiry hairs sprout in your pits as your muscles continue to inflate with cannabis infused mass, enough to where you have no idea where you begin and the smoke ends. A gentle musk starts to waft out of your moist caverns, feeling the familiar drops of sweat roll down your obliques. The joint is nearly spent, and Robbie brings his face close to your pierced ear and whispers softly.

“One last time, bro. Make it a deep one.” You nod, barely coherent as you shift about on your firm rear against the sweat-dampened futon and pull the final drag. Your chest bursts out of your button up, the tattered remains falling onto the ground before dissipating into a fine ash. The smoke bellows up your throat in a sensation not unlike drowning, before it starts to fill your head. Your jawline crackles loudly, widening and sharpening as if freshly chiseled from marble. Your lips swell against Robbie’s slick fingers, sitting comfortably atop your pearly white and gold teeth. Your brows fall low and thicken, a slit forming at their edges as your hair falls out in clumps; replaced quickly by a slicked back sweaty fade.

Eyes reddened and irises browned, Robbie pulls the joint from your face and you finally exhale. The cloud that escapes your lips flows like water into the living room air. More and more, you feel your nerves, your worries, your anxieties and expectations expel from your body. Robbie chuckles as the last tendrils of it slither out of you, knowing fully well that the guy he knew from that shitty office gig was expelled with all those fumes. You lean back, putting your muscles arms behind your head, and allow the high to take you to new heights.

———

“Hello! You have reached the voicemail box of… Dwayne Garretty. Please leave your message after the tone.”

“Yo, Garretty. It’s Robbie. Sorry bro but I just don’t think this gig is working out for me, so I’m out aight? Oh, and I’m takin my bro outta there too, man. You wanna say somethin’ Leo?”

“Fuck yeah I do, suck my dick, puta. I quit.”

The two of you snicker and laugh as you hang up the phone. You pull the lighter out of your shorts pocket and reignite the spliff between your lips, quickly passing it to your best bro. Grabbing the basketball from your bag, you hit the court, freshly smoked out and ready to take it easy.

[idesofrevolution]

Y’all are sending in some GREAT prompts. Thank you for such a great reception my friends. Almost 20 prompts in a couple days! I’m feeling the bug again!

Asks Open

So I’ve been struggling trying to keep up my writing motivation lately. I’m thinking a couple small captions may be a good way to reignite it. So, if you send an ask, I may write y’all a quick one!

Please format your questions in scenario form, I’ll put some ones below for reference:

1: “I was walking down the street the other day, and I accidentally ran into one of the street punks as he was strutting by. Now I can’t stop seeing him, watching me all over the place! I’m worried what he’ll do when he finally does something!”

2: “My friend Davy was in the gym the other day and said that he came back to the locker room to find his sneakers were covered in some kinda liquid. Now he’s acting all weird and kinda flirty? He keeps trying to get me to try on those sneakers and won’t leave me alone!”

This kind of format really helps writers give you the best kind of story, it’s a great way to prompt them and give them full ideas. That being said, send some asks! I’ll see what I can do.

Oh and tips would be super appreciated. ;)

[idesofrevolution]

I was walking down my usuall path when I came across a pair of abandoned sneakers. They look trashed but I cant stop thinking about them. Maby I shuld return and see if they are still there

Indeed, the image of those trashed sneakers was left lingering in the back of your mind; imprinted, as if it were branded onto your brain. So much so, in fact, that you found yourself wandering aimlessly down random alleyways, dark streets, and arriving right back to the spot. You blink, rubbing your aching temples before opening your eyes to see the beat up AF1 sneakers still sitting on the edge of the sidewalk. Blackened socks stuffed into the grimy interior… a half empty pack of cigarettes forlornly abandoned to their left.

You sit there staring, longing. The way the scuffed white leather just oozes heavy use and abuse, the blackened soles of the white socks within, the sheer size of them on the edge of the pavement… there was a palpable magnetism about them. You stare, so entirely enamored with them that the strange fog which emanates from inside them doesn’t even seem to faze you as it writhes out toward you. Not even so much as taking a moment to look about for their owner, you lean down and let your hands wrap around the shoes and slide the pack of cigarettes into your pocket.

The walk back to your apartment is long and seemingly cumbersome. Between the dark and winding streets becoming unfamiliar and strange, and the now wafting haze of wet, funky mist now slithering into your nose, you feel your mind slipping deeper and deeper into autopilot. Quicker than you anticipated, you found yourself outside of a rather dilapidated old building on the rough side of town. You punch the door monitor before it beeps at you, the heavy metal door swinging wide to greet you.

Climbing the stairs, you realize fully that you haven’t ever been inside of this crumbling tenement before- yet the familiarity of the peeling white paint in the stairwell, as does the stench of piss and smoke surrounding you. You can’t help but feel a sense of belonging here. Strutting down the hallway, you arrive at a scuffed door near the broken elevator. You kick the door open, somehow knowing it stuck frequently and a swift punt to the bottom of it would do the trick.

You enter this entirely random apartment, the smell of cannabis hanging low in the air. The ratty disarray within was absolutely not the pristine environment you faintly recall- yet your mind can think of nothing else other than the destroyed sneakers now warmed in your hands. You feel your lips curl upward, dropping them onto the dirty vinyl floors in a heavy thud. They seem to stare back at you- a sentience of their own, calling out for your touch.

You crouch down low, letting that miasmic fog push into your nostrils: wet, heady, pungent. Slowly, you take in a deep breath, feeling your lungs fill with the scent and letting it flow through you. You let your fingers glide across the grimy, slick fabric of the well worn lining. Your hands seem to move of their own accord, taking ahold of the socks and gently pulling them out of the sneakers. They’re still warm, as if fresh off your foot- and they lay atop the floor stiff and fragrant.

Your mouth smirks as you pry off your shoes and socks, tossing them onto the pile of dirty laundry in the corner of the room. Soon after, you find that you’ve thrown your shirt into the same pile as well- the tee shirt disappearing into the chaos of musky garments. With a filthy grin you’ve never known before plastered on your eager face, you grab the socks, letting the sweat inundated cotton slip over your bare skin. They’re loose and thick with a layer of slick grime on the sole as your feet slide into place.

You let out a heavy breath, the air seemingly rushing out of your chest as your groin begins to awaken from the gummy texture. With your feet in them, the heat doubles in intensity- as does the scent. You raise your left foot from the floor, the sticky outline of a footprint remaining on the fake wood. You stare at it, a drop of drool leaving your mouth at the sight of the large footprint, easily double the size of your sole within the sock. The impossibility of this goes unnoticed, your mind is focused entirely on stuffing your left foot into the sneaker. As it is seemingly suctioned onto you, you feel waves of goosebumps flowing from your legs all the way up to the top of your head. Your head is thrown back as you moan in ecstasy, unable to see the second sneaker slithering onto your right foot, encasing it in the musky cavern.

Your eyes shoot open, no longer entirely under your control. You let out a smug huff and crack your neck, pushing yourself off the couch and onto your feet. The sneakers squish below your toes with every step as you walk toward your bedroom, pulling out the fags from your pocket and slipping your unfinished smoke between your lips- still wet from earlier on the train. The door swings easily with your powerful push, revealing your disaster of a bed, covered in yours and your mates gear. Indifferent, you strut over to the bed and leap onto the stained mattress. As you start to pull your shorts down, reaching over to the sticky fleshlight you’d dumped your load into earlier, you hear the front door burst open.

“Oi! Liam you home yet, bruv?” Kev’s thick Yorkshire accent booms from beyond the open door. Unfazed, you pull down your boxers, absentmindedly stroking your thick uncut cock. With every footfall you hear of Kev approaching, you feel yourself getting more and more feeling like yourself again. Your tanned skin pulled tight over your sinewy build, the wheeze coming out of your frequently broken nose, your wavy brown hair slick with sweat from being in your cap all day long… by the time Kev’s pasty arse arrives in your doorway, you let out a sneering puff of smoke.

“Fancy a fag, mate?” Kev looks at you stroking your cock, his casual expression turning to one of smug lewdness as you slip your manhood into the slimy fleshlight with an audible “schlorp.”

“Heh, I fancy a fag and a wank, bruv.” He rips his jersey from his lithe torso, kneeling down at your feet hanging off the side of the bed. “But I fancy these first!” You lean back against the wall, taking another drag of your fag as he pries off your prize sneaks and starts huffing madly. You take another drag off your cigarette as you thrust into the warm slick silicone, grunting as Kev has his fill of your stink. This is your everyday, the way it has been for years, wanking with your best mate whenever he barges into your flat; it’s casual- it’s what lads do together. And as you both shoot your respective loads, it’s just another hang out session. Kev hops on your bed, plucking the cigarette from your lips and taking a drag of his own.

Life is easy, life is good, life is fun.

[idesofrevolution]

Asks Open

So I’ve been struggling trying to keep up my writing motivation lately. I’m thinking a couple small captions may be a good way to reignite it. So, if you send an ask, I may write y’all a quick one!

Please format your questions in scenario form, I’ll put some ones below for reference:

1: “I was walking down the street the other day, and I accidentally ran into one of the street punks as he was strutting by. Now I can’t stop seeing him, watching me all over the place! I’m worried what he’ll do when he finally does something!”

2: “My friend Davy was in the gym the other day and said that he came back to the locker room to find his sneakers were covered in some kinda liquid. Now he’s acting all weird and kinda flirty? He keeps trying to get me to try on those sneakers and won’t leave me alone!”

This kind of format really helps writers give you the best kind of story, it’s a great way to prompt them and give them full ideas. That being said, send some asks! I’ll see what I can do.

Oh and tips would be super appreciated. ;)

[idesofrevolution]

Story is in the works! And there’s 17 hours left on this poll- seeing that the nahs have it at the moment. Is that because of the difficulty of international currency exchange?

Poll

[idesofrevolution]

Poll

[idesofrevolution]

The rage you feel when you try to save your draft after writing and it errors out, making you lose easily 800 words.

[idesofrevolution]

Who are some of your favorite writers nowadays

You. 😌

But here’s my current list of some favs that are still around and posting:

@semischarmed

@fredwkong

@rakurairagnarok

@transformhim

@king-craftsman

@thefunkfactory

@verus-veritas

@occamstfs

@fullfriendnerdclutch

@immortalmrwavell

@misctf

@maletfdreamer

@wakeup01

@sanzaibian

@echovelvet278

[idesofrevolution]

what are the specific types of tf stories that you enjoy making?

Favorites are:

- Possession

- Bodysuit

- Musk Oriented TF

- Clothing TF (Wearing an outfit, turning into archetype)

- Personality Shift

- Jockification

- Punkification

- Gang/Bad Boy TF

- Merging

- Techno TF

So many more but these come to mind immediately

[idesofrevolution]

What happend to your story about a track worker wo put on a bikers suit and transformed into said bikers hot musky boyfriend?

Oh that one is called “A Day at the Track”

[idesofrevolution]

Do you have any personal real life transformation goals, like are you trying to physically change in any way to reach the ideal you?

Hell yes! I’ve been on a physical fitness journey for a year now and I’m down over 40 lbs. Also finally embracing the aesthetic I’ve been attracted to for so long but couldn’t with the state of the old job. So yeah. TF’ing myself these days! ☺️

[idesofrevolution]

I’m feeling the urge to write something. Prompt suggestions into the ask box? Or frankly, what the hell, AMA.

[idesofrevolution]

I don’t necessarily have a question, it’s more of me responding to your incredibly erotic story of Appolo the DJ was refreshing to read. Thank you for your incredible work

Thank you so much my man! :) Had a lot of fun writing that one.