#Twink tf

[misctf]

I’ve always been chill with the fact that my good friend Alex is gay, but I don’t know I’ve never really understood that whole lifestyle ya know? Either way, Alex is chill, pretty funny, and honestly rather straight-passing so we hang out pretty frequently. Recently, Alex told me about this new weed he scored from his cousin, all I need to say yes. He warned that it’s pretty strong and has “some interesting effects”? Whatever that means. I didn’t care, I was always down to smoke with my best bro.

Alex and you had been friends for years now. Through thick and thin. Break-ups, parties, deep conversations overnight, and triumphs on the field. He was a brother to you and you appreciated his company and friendship. So when he came out as gay, you couldn't give two shits. You'd even offered to be his wingman and showed him all the support you could. But there were certainly bumps. You'd talk about your most recent hook-ups with some chick and he'd try to talk about some guy he met on Grindr. Whether you intended to make it obvious or not, he was able to pick up on the subtle cues that you weren't exactly comfortable with the topic. Your promise to be his wingman? You left the gay bar barely thirty minutes after arriving. And the night he tried to explain bottoming... that was way too much for your heteronormative mindset to begin to want to understand. So as the months passed, you found that Alex wasn't really sharing all too much about his personal life. Part of you was relieved- you much rather preferred your straight-acting friend to be straight-acting. Another part felt that the closeness of your bond was irretrievably broken.

"Dude, I scored some weed from my cousin." You read over the text and grinned. Alex's cousin always scored the best shit, "You down to try? I should warn, it has some interesting effects. Hope you're not gonna pussy out."

Interesting effects? Pussy out? You had a few questions. What did he mean by interesting effects? And since when did Alex use language like "pussy out?" Maybe it had something to do with the interesting effects Alex mentioned? Lowered his inhibitions a bit? Expanded his vocab? You chuckle and pushed the thoughts aside- did it matter after all? You just wanted to hang out with your best bro.

"Count me in."

You quickly head over to his place, a feeling of excitement building in you. When you think about it, its been a bit since you've smoked together. Usually, you'd play videogames after and have some deep conversations about life. But as you drive to his place, something feels off. Alex didn't live on this side of town? Did he? And when you park outside a dingy apartment complex, more questions arise. Since when did he live next to a gym? Since when did he live here? The place looked rundown, yet you shake your head and chuckle to yourself. Alex always lived here- how could you forget? You quickly walk up the stairs and knock on his door.

"Come in, doors unlocked."

The booming voice on the other side of the door beckons you and you pause. That didn't sound like Alex. His voice was never that deep... that masculine... Again, you shake your head. No... no that was Alex. His voice was always like that- one that would turn heads, that commanded a room. That would echo when he'd win a match of Call of Duty. Yeah... that was Alex...

"Fuck yeah, bruh. Glad you made it."

You enter Alex's apartment and are immediately hit with the stench of days old gym clothes, overcooked ground beef, weed, and trash that really needed to be taken out.

"Bro... Alex, it reeks in here." You cough, "Wh..."

You want to ask him how this happened, what was happening, but your brain paused. Nothing's changed, duh. This was Alex's apartment as it always was. There was a TV, some work-out equipment, and a dirty mattress... no decorations, no desk with his office work- just as always, right? And on that mattress...

"Alex?"

"What's up, brah. Been a bit." He smirked, "So you wanna try this weed?"

Something was wrong. Something wasn't right. Alex... Alex was lean and toned after years of soccer and track. Well groomed- preppy if anything. And you were the taller one too. But the man sitting there? Buff, muscles bulging, at least 6'3". He scratched his itchy beard, revealing a pit filled with matted, musky pit fur. His grin was predatory- not warm or kind. And he looked you over closely like he was inspecting his prey. Part of you wanted to run... but another part... no... this was Alex as you've known him. The tension in your body diminishing as you reconcile the man in front of you as Alex.

"Yeah..."

Your brain feels a bit fuzzy and you walk over and sit. He grins as he hands you a blunt and watches closely as you bring it to your lips.

"Cousin got me that shit." He comments as he goes back to playing his game, "You know dude, I was worried about us." You look over at him and raise an eyebrow, "You've been distant. Felt like I came out and it was too much for you to handle."

"No, no it's not that." You cough as the weed tickles your lungs, "I just... look man, I totally support you and whatever makes you happy." You feel a tingle down your spine, "It's just..."

"No, I get it. You just don't understand." He throws his controller to the ground, and you can feel his frustration. Alex wasn't one to get emotional or angry... you shake your head. Right, Alex was always a bit of a hothead, "And that's okay. I didn't understand a lot of things either."

"Wh-what do you mean?" Your voice cracks and you cough to clear your throat.

"Well, I didn't understand why anyone would want to be a fuckin' top." He says, "I always loved to bottom, but fuck dude you have no idea what its like to have your dick buried in some twink." He smirks, "And its not just topping. It's the fuckin' lifestyle." He looks around his dingy, sparsely furnished apartment, "The smell, the simplicity... dude it's liberating."

You nod along, a wave of vertigo washing over you. Preventing you from being able to reply. You look down at your hands and the vertigo intensifies. Since when were they so dainty? So well manicured? You shake your head... no... this is right... right?

"I never really understand why guys wanted to get so swole." He flexes and looks over at you. His grin suddenly widens, "Fuck..."

"What? Is there something wrong with me?" Your voice is certainly an octave or two higher- breathy, seductive. You don't entirely register it.

"No, no you're perfect, babe."

Babe? You raise an eyebrow. But despite your confusion, the only thing that escapes your lips is a giggle and you feel your face flush red. Babe... you liked it when he called you that.

"You know..." You say, "I didn't understand a whole lot." You sigh and kick your feet, "Bottoming, being gay? I didn't understand it." You look over at Alex and feel your tiny nub start to chub up, "But when I look at you..." Your eyes roam his mountainous pecs, his beautiful abs, the predatory look in his eyes, "Well..." But it was also his musk, his carefree lifestyle, his commitment to getting swole, "Oh god..." As your eyes traveled south you see his bulge and you lick your puffy cocksucker lips.

"Yeah..." He paws at his bulge, "You know, I didn't understand why guys were obsessed with slutty twinks with thick asses either."

He moves closer to you and you shudder at the intensity of his gaze and the warmth radiating from his body. You look away, so flustered by the hungry look in your hook-up's eyes. But when you look down, you gasp. You were so thin, so soft. Your skin pale and free from blemishes. Not a remnant of body hair gracing your body. Worse yet, your dick was barely three inches hard.

"I don't... I don't like understand." You whimper in a voice that sounds foreign to your ears.

"No you didn't." Alex pins you to the bed, his sweat dripping onto your thin chest, "You didn't understand the gay lifestyle, you didn't understand bottoming." God he was so strong... so sexy... and his bulge... you could barely focus on anything else, "But this weed, it helps with that."

"You'll like totes help me understand?" He can see you eying his bulge, your eyes glazing over in an unabashed lust. A desperateness coming through... a need to make sense of all these feelings.

He doesn't say another word. He roughly kisses you along your neck, his beard tickling your skin. Your back arches and you moan- pleasure filling your body. You paw at his pecs, the meaty mounds in your grip wiping away any desire for tits. You reach around his muscular back, gripping it as your eyes role into the back of your head. You liked being dominant, hearing girls moan as you pleasured them. But now... your moans filled the air and you wanted to be dominated. And when he breaks away, you're breathing hard.

"Please..."

With his muscular arms, he flips you over with ease. You seemingly know what to do next. Your present your ass and you feel his rough hands squeeze your jiggly mounds of flesh. The pleasure radiating from his touch alone leaves you drooling, face down in his unwashed, musky mattress. And then without warning, he's inside you. Thrusting. Grunting. Sweating. And with each thrust you understand more and more. As your prostate is pleasured in ways you didn't know possible- you understood. As he calls you his slut, asks if you like taking his meaty cock- you understood. And when you are filled with his seed and left dripping and moaning- you understood.

There's no cuddling afterwards, no kisses. You clean up quick and saunter out. Your ass sore, your mind in shambles. The weed tickling your brain, rewiring more of your precious neurons, altering your reality. Helping you understand. Any resistance, any pleading from the real you, is systematically silenced. Permanently. You understand now- you are, always have been, and will always be a horny, slutty bottom. And you want this. The sound of another Grindr notification echoes from your phone. Your ass pulses with need. You understood what comes next.

___________________________

Hey everyone- have a little more time to work on stories so gonna try to catch up on some asks. Hope you enjoy!

[alternate-real-ities]

Lil bro got tanked real good fr

Inspired by @twnkttank (check him out, I love his posts).

[wakeup01]

From Behind

(A horror themed butt growth story.)

Why do you keep doing this to yourself? It’s like you set yourself up for disaster. You are travelling home alone from a rather productive session at the gym. That is the good news, the bad news is you have just entered what is known as a run down area of town affectionately referred to as ‘The Crack’, everyone tends to avoid it if possible. There have been recent reports of missing people in the area too, but no one is very surprised, or seems to care. But today you were in a rush and despite your reservations, this was the quickest route back. At least, in theory.

Passing down a street of derelict warehouses you notice a side passage that appeared to lead down an alleyway. That was odd. You’ve been down here before, but had never noticed this back-alley before. Paths don’t tend to spring up out of thin air. You try and calculate where it should lead and come to the conclusion that it would let you save some time, maybe? Look, it’s extremely unlikely anything bad could happen within the minute it would take to make it through to the other side. Yes, that is what everyone says before things go horribly wrong but that was absolutely, definitely not going to happen here.

You step into a puddle that splashes an unidentifiable liquid up your bare leg. Mental note: never wear shorts in ‘The Crack’ again. Trash was piled up high on either side, it was obvious these buildings didn’t get a huge amount of use anymore. You always thought horror movies had done a real disservice to alleyways, but this one certainly wouldn’t be changing anyones mind. In the distance you see the silhouette of someone standing in the middle of the alley. From their stature it seems to be man, but something about them throws you off. You feel a pang of trepidation, a chill runs down your back. It’s only just occurred to you how deafly quiet the passage is, the sounds of the street feel like miles away. You turn around and the uneven pavement seems to impossibly stretch away from your feet. You hear a dull droning, fizzling just within your hearing range. Looking back and the man appears closer than before, you swear he hasn’t moved and yet…

“Uh hello?” You call out, to no response. Strange. But then, you see it. The most beautiful sight your eyes have been graced with. His butt.

Butt.

His grey joggers are having a hard time trying to contain what he’s packing, not that you’re complaining. It’s bigger than what you thought possible, it’s captivating. And now you’re just staring. Staring at another dudes gigantic butt in the middle of an alley, try not to overthink it. You see it jiggle just slightly and your eyes follow it’s repetitive movement hypnotically. What doesn’t occur to you is how your body is starting to….adjust. There’s a barely perceptible malicious force entering your form, you welcomed it in the second you laid eyes on the perfectly sculpted ass. Not a wholly bad trade off.

It wastes no time in making itself at home. Assessing the prey that wandered into it’s lair, before going to work on you.

The energy is gathering in your nethers, passing down your head and pulling through your torso. It seems to be taking something with it as your rear begins to heat up. You feel a light throb. It starts slow but soon increases in intensity. Your modest stature is being ‘enhanced’, your average ass cheeks piling on pounds as the rest of your body flattens out. Muscle and tissue is consumed, just food to bolster your hindquarters. All your body fat melts away until you have a tight slim chest. Your arms thinning out into effeminate twigs, hands slender. And through it all you continue to watch the rotund cheeks in front of you, not daring to take your eyes off them. Wouldn’t it be nice to have that too? Any sacrifice would be worth it, no? You want that, that -

Butt.

The thin polyester fabric of your shorts is pulled taut across your enlarging rear. Straining as it struggles to cage the hungry beast within it’s confines. Today was perhaps not the best day to decide on going without underwear. But lets be honest, underwear isn’t going to have much prominence in your future.

With your body adequately slimmed down, the insatiable parasitic-like force begins to target any identifying features you have left. It focuses on your head, a couple of twitches and it’s done. Nose itches, eyes water. It leaves your face with an uncanny quality, like it was unsettlingly sent though a algorithmic generator. It’s you, but an eerie idealised version of you. Plasticised perfection. Your skin is now unnaturally even, without a single speck or blemish. Anything that could distract from your main asset is smoothed clean. Absorbed by the mound of flesh expanding in your pants. There’s only one thing people should be paying attention to. That’s quickly becoming less of an issue. The inevitable missing poster they put up will only vaguely resemble you.

“Guh.” You hear yourself pant.

The low droning of the alleyway grows more prominent, pulsing rhythmically, akin to the low bass of a dance track. Your buttocks instinctually vibrate to the beat.

It’s increasingly hard to ignore the obvious changes happening to you. Your rotund behind is becoming so heavy. And while, yes, it is slightly concerning - can the issue wait just a little bit longer? You’ll deal with it later, after fully grasping the scope of this dude’s bountiful booty. For a second you wonder what the mans face looks like but then you think better of it. His face isn’t important, in the same way that yours isn’t.

You shift your feet apart, trying to balance out your rear heavy centre of gravity. The slight movement sends your round cheeks wobbling comically like a bowl of jelly. They bounce together, creating a wet slapping sound in your tight shorts. Your lower half is at risk of putting fuck toys out of business.

You’ve never had the word ‘butt’ enter your mind with such frequency in your entire life, it begins to loose all meaning. A collection of random letters.

Butt.

Are you perhaps forgetting something? That 4 letter word isn’t about to share a space with that bump between your legs. At some point you may have believed your cock was of some importance. All those times it had made you feel good, where for a second your concerns would fade from view. But things change. You are changing. Sometimes you have no choice but to embrace it. You start to feel a light tugging at your crotch. It’s slightly uncomfortable but there’s a pleasant tingle too. You reach down and feel it’s length diminish within your hand, sucked up like a vacuum by your ever thickening arse. It doesn’t stop until a mere nub protrudes from your groin. It dribbles the smallest amount of pre down your leg and spreads across the cracked concrete of the alley. No amount of stimulation is going to produce much down there. Your pleasure centre realigns a little further back. A deep itch that requires constant attention. A cock is something that other people have, you instead have an open socket for them to plug into.

Your shapely bum must almost rival that of the one your eyes are glued to. Not much further to go. Other people will stare at yours in the same way. You didn’t know you were so jealous of it but who wouldn’t want THAT?

You’re not sure how long you’ve been watching his rear end, or how long you plan to continue doing so. No better ideas come to mind right now. That might be because with your body and cock sucked dry, your brain is the next best source of fuel. So much useless power being used up there, where it can serve a much better purpose. It’s like a battery being drained, squeezed right into your juicy fat ass. Churned away just to add another inch of thickness.

You don’t think you really want this to happen, maybe you’re big enough back there? But what you want and what it wants are two very different things. Unfortunately for you, it doesn’t appear to be up for debate.

If you round up all those little idiosyncrasies of your personality, you might even squeeze another few millimetres into your hips. There’s only one thing around here with much substance anymore, and it certainly isn’t your brain. You can admit it, not much of value has been lost. It’s not like you were getting around to solving world hunger. At least now you have the opportunity to solve a different kind of hunger.

Your thoughts provided a decent amount of sustenance as they were sucked out of your brain through a figurative straw. You feel the benefit push out. Your hips flaring out instantaneously while your globes inflate to the size of footballs. With your brain emptied out of anything complex, thoughts and instructions to your body start to arrive from the new master of the domain. Neurones rewired, your butt was now command central, your head was just the go between, mostly irrelevant. Simple instructions and desires like ‘bend’, ‘twerk’ and ‘facesit’ overwhelm you. But -butt- right now the main one was ‘stare’; you weren’t done yet after all.

Your cheeks moisten as they rub together, their new sensitivity firing bolts up your spine. Your shorts grow damp as the leaking fluid soaks into the polyester and clings tightly to your skin. It only helps to make your arse seem bigger, the fabric bunching up between your crack, creating a noticeable crease down the centre that leaves nothing to the imagination.

Once again you feel your ass throb and shudder, each jiggle pushing it just a little bit further from your body. Just when you think you couldn’t get any bigger back there, it keeps going, inflating to cartoonish proportions. Sticking out like a depraved shelf. Your waist thins out and your hips expand to accommodate your new form. Women would be jealous of what you’re packing, and men will be queuing up to test it’s suspension.

It’s okay to smile. Happy people smile. Aren’t you happy? You must be, everything else in your head was consumed. The entity did you a favour in that regard. Think of the words ‘bouncing booty’. Go on, give it a try.

Your lip quivers in a last ditch effort of restraint. Don’t let ‘it’ win. The defiance is vaguely amusing in a pitiful way but your face muscles start to give way. Your mouth stretches wide into a broad, earnest grin. The most sincere display of joy you’ve ever shown, who cares if it makes you look ‘dumb’? It doesn’t bother you at all that people can take one look at you and accurately guess, that not a single word of value will exit your mouth. Dumb people are happy. Why worry? You had different priorities now. You can feel safe knowing that your most prominent feature is taking the lead, that it knows what’s best for you. Give it the keys and good things are bound to happen.

See, and doesn’t smiling feel good? Doesn’t it feel right to smile as your hole is used like a cum receptacle? Or when your cheeks are surrounding a mans face? People don’t want to see their toy sad.

A lone giggle falls out between your pursed lips.

You reach back around and place your hands on your two buttocks, your palm is dwarfed in size. It no longer stretches across its surface. Like palming a basketball. You can feel it push against your fingers with immense pressure as it expands within your grasp. Just another centimetre, and another. It’s curvature widens, expanding out from your hips. You press your finger into the skin and rub. The surface is completely smooth and the texture has a slight friction to it, creating a light satisfying sqk. No one for a second will believe that it’s real, it’s obvious fake-ness is by design. Authenticity is so overrated, nothing real would bounce so tightly back to position, would shine so brightly in the light. Would be able to withstand so much pounding… People don’t actually want real, they want a fetish image come to life, they want no maintenance, no downsides. They want someone to just nod and agree while they fuck them without concern; they want a rubber butt like yours. You’re not about to question it, and neither will anyone else.

They won’t question it while they undress you, or while they find relief inside of you, or even when their own butt begins to expand. And still, when they are reduced to just another butt boy, they won’t question it.

Butt.

That’s right, you’re a carrier. You have been entrusted with a important task, to leave a string of giant asses in your wake. You need to spread it, like a computer virus. Once they ‘plug in’ there’s no going back. Whoever they were, they’ll all end up the same.

You are finished. Your glutes tighten into place. And your hole opens for frequent visitors. Stretching wide as if it had just been treated to a rigorous fuck machine session. You’re just a butt with a body attached. It’s how you view yourself, above all is tending to the needs of your ever hungry rear. The rest of your body is just a mode of transport, a means to an end. A rear end.

It feels like you’ve stood here for hours, but in reality it’s been no more than a minute. A minute was all it took for you to be repurposed as a literal butt boy. A mere sixty seconds for all your thoughts to be hollowed out; maybe you weren’t as smart as you thought, or maybe you secretly wanted this all along. Either way your head is now just a pretty picture to smile at before spinning you around.

The space in your head is about as empty as the hole between your pillowy cheeks, although only one has any hope of being filled up.

“Butt!” You hear yourself blurt out, like a child saying a naughty word. The sound echos down the dank alley.

Suddenly the butt opposite you turns away, his legs moving him towards you. A wordless instruction reaches your body to kneel and so you do, obediently. He turns back away, his beautiful ass only a few inches apart from your face. His joggers lower and his prize springs forth from it’s prison. He slowly backs his cheeks into your face until they eclipse your entire view. He continues until your head is pushed between his round globes with a blomf, encasing you, muffling the sound in your ears. There’s a mild tingle across your forehead/face.

You feel the pressure push against your sides. It makes sure your head is an appropriately vacuous vessel, squeezing out anything left. That little remnant that didn’t want to be butt brained drips away in no time, turned to drool and absorbed into the guys ass crack. This would be good for you; You needed to be made perfect, so you let the butt finish it’s work. A new set of instructions flow into you, into your ass. You feel your consciousness connect to the butt burying your face, assimilating and adding you as one of it’s own, making you part of something bigger. One of many.

The pressure on your head leaves your emptied mind subservient to the mass of tissue straining under you. It gives you a new identity.

I gave you a new identity.

BUTT BOY.

And you’re now ready for service. Butt. Boy. Ready to spread joy. To put it in the nicest way possible, you have a butt for a brain. It has been given full control, and it has one singular goal. You need to make more Butt Boys. It is that simple. It’s not a desire, it’s just something you have to do.

The cheeks spread open again and are unseated from your encased head, your broad smile still unflinching.

Something else is different though. A cold breeze brushes over your forehead. The hair on your head is nothing but a light dusting of what was there before, at most 1mm in length. It was one less thing to worry about, and one less thing to identify you with. It’s unsettling how much of your personality seemed to be stripped with it gone. The buzzed look certainly makes you appear more anonymous. Like a default custom character in a video game. Nothing made you stand out… well, aside from the obvious.

The ass in front of you is satisfied with your ‘adjustment’ and leads it’s body from the spot it once stood so patiently in. You continue to stare as the buttocks juggle erratically in the grey joggers as they leave the alleyway.

Your feet begin to move of their own volition. Movement is awkward, each step your balance is pulling you backward. You’re like a dumptruck trying to make a tight turn.

You are left in silence, aside from the clapping of your bouncy cheeks as you stumble forward to replace the previous occupant. You stand in the exact same spot, thighs pushed together, back straight. Now it is your turn to wait - like an animal for it’s prey, knowing that you cannot leave until you have passed on the gift to another man; ensuring that the cycle continues. The idea of causing someone else to go through the same process fills you with such pride.

It’s unclear how long you stand there, time in the alley doesn’t appear to operate within normal parameters. Like a crack in the world. You see your shadow projected onto a nearby wall, a straight line interrupted by an obscene vibrating speed bump. Doorframes could be your new biggest enemy.

You were desperate to see your reflection, from behind obviously. Most people take selfies of their face, the subject of your attention would be much further down.

You hear a voice echo from behind.

“Excuse me sir.”

One week later:

“Man, how much work did you have done on this, femboy? Unff. You make even my girlfriend look flat.” A towering voice booms down at you.

You’d picked up the jock in a club. He was relatively easy, it didn’t take much to end up back at his place. You stared at him with that horny, open mouthed duck face. But he wasn’t interested in what you had going on up there. It was remarkable how little men cared about how flagrantly airheaded you were once you flash your rear at them. It didn’t matter how ‘plastic’ or fake you so obviously were. The eye see’s what it wants.

He was clearly in the mood to let off steam, and one look of what you had on offer was all it took. You didn’t even need to say anything, which was good, as words were so hard to get right. For tonight, you were his; a light tap of your butt and he owned your body. A breathy ‘mhm’ confirming your obedience to him and his sizeable bulge. Your ass begins to moisten in preparation - it wanted him, in more ways than one.

He had told you his name, but you already forgot it; he soon would too. ‘Jocky’ was good enough for now.

Jocky was obnoxious in all the right ways, wearing his masculinity on his sleeve. That type made for the best, most severe adjustment.

“Love the buzzcut by the way femmy. Yeah…mhm. Very basic, it suits you.” He rubs a hand over the top of your head before running his fingers through his curly hair. It was a good thing he already liked the look.

*plap plap*

The strong man’s 7 inch cock thrusts in and out of your well used hole, pulling between your lubricated cheeks. Your buttocks squished against his member tightly, every bump rubbing across your hypersensitive skin. You were so hungry. He wasn’t the longest but he definitely had thickness on his side. You pant heavily as he has his way with you. Bent over his bed, facing away from him at a wall. He wasn’t as good at this as he thought, you would know, but it wouldn’t matter for long.

“Mmf. You’re a quiet one. Ah… I- I like that in a bottom. Makes a nice change from…hff. Always whining. Know your place. Fuck.” He continues to drunkenly rant into your ear. His deep, self-aggrandising voice quickly grating on you.

“Uuh. Take it all dumb slut.” You let him have his petty insults, it seemed to make him feel bigger, more in control. Evidently, he was obviously very self obsessed, dumb as you may be, even you could tell that much. The constant glances at his own muscles were enough of a giveaway. Eh. You’d seen better; the change will be a improvement.

He speeds up, sending shockwaves up your body and making your butt bounce enthusiastically.

“H…hey it’s real hot in here.” His voice shakes. “Umf. Maybe we should stop?” He puts his hand on your hip in an attempt to steady himself as he continues pumping you. You begin to push back into him, his dick pushing all the way in.

“Wh… what the fuck. My ass feels…mmm.” He groans loudly. You know how it feels. You can hear them rubbing together already.

His grip on your back weakens, the weight crashing into you softens. His body is like a deflating balloon, his diminishing height bringing him closer to the floor. The girth inside of you shrinks.

“Ahh. So heavy…damn. My-“

“Butt.” You tell him. A slight hint of boredom in your tone.

“Oh god, why does my head… so hard to think.” Right on cue, his smarts were being cleared out, in preparation for his ass to take over thinking duties. This part was your favourite; it wasn’t fair he had all that stuff while you felt so…blank. “Feels so good. Unnf.” It was too late for him to stop it, he’d soon be very happy. Happy, eager and ready to comply. “Shouldn’t though…” You take the lead, rocking back and forth along what’s left of his dwindling shaft. Your buttocks slap against his tightened chest.

*plap plap*

“Bouncy…hehe.” He laughs dimly. You can’t help but echo his giggle, it WAS a funny word. One of your favourites - top 5 at least, right after ‘jiggle’.

“Don’t wanna…fuck…b…but I can’t…but…but.” He stutters, like a scratched record.

“B…bu…Butt. Buuuutt.” His voice moans in realisation, mumbling the word over and over to himself. He shudders, squirting inside of you. It’s okay. It’s never enough to satisfy you.

His tiny cock slips out of your hole, dragging a small string of cum across your sensitive rear. That familiar feeling of emptiness sets back in. You get out from under him and assess your work. Turning to face him, you’re greeted by his broad smile and blank, lust-filled stare. His jockish face and body now heavily twinkified; those boorish muscles, gone. His cocky attitude, subdued. The bed creaks. You check on his oversized ass splayed beneath him, a rather drastic change from his previously flat posterior. Looking even more ridiculous with his shortened stature. The slight rubbery sheen was the cherry on top. Those plastic beach balls were made to twerk and put on a show. A vast improvement, he seems pleased by it too. His left hand is loosely fondling his new selling point.

“O…ohh.” A surprised squeak slips out from his mouth. It’s always a shock when they see where everything has gone.

You’re pretty sure he didn’t have much experience back there, if any at all. He’ll soon get the hang of it.

You know what comes next, what’s required of you - it’s instinctual at this point. You push him onto the bed and position yourself on top of him. You gradually begin to lower your huge rear over his head. You sit snugly down on his blushing face, shifting your weight a bit to get into a comfortable position. His gelled hair tickles against your skin, until it doesn’t…

He’ll make a cute Butt Boy.

[occamstfs]

Couples Counseled: Care

Kyle, or rather Ky, endures his own session with Dr. Lucien. Safe to say he'll be coming out the perfect bottom for the top he led his boyfriend to be.

And here's part two! Seems Sean has little need for a masc boyfriend, fortunately turnabout is fair play as Ky becomes the twink he oh so desperately craves. Enjoy this rare twinkification! -Occam

One second Kyle watches the most polished man he’s ever seen escort his boyfriend away. He turns to look at the receptionist whose unwavering smile continues to shine under the harsh light of the waiting room. And then he blinks, and he’s in a small office. He flinches back as he sees the man who led his boyfriend away seconds ago inspecting paperwork in his hands. 

While Sean’s response at being found in this unfamiliar place was one of fear and almost immediate attempts to flee, Kyle’s blood is already burning with rage at the surreal situation. “Where the fuck am I!?” Lucien opens his mouth but Kyle shouts once more before the therapist can speak, “You better explain whatever the hell is going on dude- where’s Sean!?”

The doctor gestures for Kyle to sit down and despite his still flowing anger he feels some out of body compulsion dragging him back to the couch. Unwillingly pacified for now, he stares daggers at the therapist and crosses his arms, flexing them to try and burn some of the still coursing energy.

Satisfied that Kyle will give him a moment to speak, Lucien addresses his question, “Sean and I just finished our time together for the day, it was exceedingly productive in fact. In no small part thanks to your splendid answers on the survey Ky.” Kyle pulls at the hair on his arm as he scowls at the doctor, obviously that can’t be right. He went out of his way to make sure Sean would blow a gasket.

Sensing his client’s confusion, Lucien’s smile grows wider as he aims another wrench to throw into Kyle’s mind, “Well now Ky, surely you remember passing him in the hall don’t you?” Kyle’s brow furrows and he prepares to shout that he can’t remember anything from before getting in this room, arms burning with the desire to swing. But then Lucien waves his fingers and in his mind Kyle sees a man. 

He feels the heat radiating off the sweaty man’s body, sees his cock bulging through his sweatpants. In the memory he’s pulled close, into the chest of the man with bulging arms and held against hard hairy pecs as a hand is stuffed into his own pants to caress his ass. The beast of a man speaks but Kyle can’t make out what he says, distracted by the deep rumble of his voice resonating through his chest as the man’s massive hand squeezes his barely defined ass even harder.

Uncomfortable at being so close to a man he can’t reconcile as his boyfriend, Kyle shakes off the memory and finds himself back in the office. Only now does he notice that he can still feel where the man gripped his ass. He remembers doing so countless times to twinks he found on the dance floor, he remembers doing just that to Sean even! Though as he tries to remember feeling his perky ass bulging in between his fingers he sees his memory change. He feels his boyfriend’s waxed glutes grow hairy as curls lengthen to brush against his fingers as the ass hardens, as his back widens, as he turns around to show Kyle what a real top can do.

Kyle clutches at his head as it stings with a migraine, the therapist ready to move on speaks up, "Everything alright Ky?” he frowns at Lucien’s question, “Can you stop calling me that?” 

Lucien feigns shock, “Oh? Is that not what you want to be called? Do forgive me! It’s just what Sean wrote on your form you see.” Kyle just sighs, I guess that’s little bite back at all compared to what Kyle wrote on his form, he grunts in annoyance and motions for Lucien to begin.

Straightening his papers he smirks and proceeds as planned, “Off to the races then! I’m sure you remember question one from filling out the form yourself eh?” He pauses though interrupts Kyle before he can respond, “What is your favorite quality of your partner? Oof your dear there does have quite poorly handwriting, but he says: ‘how much Ky cares’, well isn’t that sweet?”

Kyl continues staring at the therapist who stares back, unblinking. He’s kicking himself for signing them up for the lowest rated couples counselor he could find. Though given that Sean seems to have played along and not promptly come out and harangued him for his answers, maybe he’s not in the dog house after all? It’s just three questions, Kyl figures if he rushes through them they’ll be out of there spick and span and he can apologize for being such an ass to Sean.

Sean… He feels his heart flutter as he thinks of his boyfriend, eyes drifting around the room he rubs his arm as he’s suddenly distracted by how full he is of affection for a man he cannot quite picture. Turning his attention back to the therapist, “Can you repeat that?” Smirking with half-lidded eyes, “Of course! Sean loves how much Ky cares.”

Ky’s tight-lipped grimace twitches as he cannot help but smile, something in his foggy mind shifts mushy with care for a man he wasn’t even willing to go to a single therapy session for. His chest quivers with the intensity of how much he feels. Clenching his jaw he chokes back a sob as his eyes water with guilt. Struck with feeling so intense he can’t understand. As the wall of stoicism he has long defended begins to crumble, he knows something unnatural is happening.

Through gritted teeth, pushing down emotions greater than he’s ever felt he cries out at Lucien, “What are you doing to me.” Lucien just tilts his head with a curious grin, “Why now Kyle, what do you possibly mean?” His pupils shake in his eyes as he’s called Kyle, that’s? That’s not his name? Behind emotion so strong that he can scarcely feel anything, Ky feels some now alien part of himself sealed away. His gruff, emotionally stunted self sealed away as Lucien clears his throat to move onto the next question.

“Perhaps if Sean’s first answer was a little overwhelming we should move on then Ky, hm? What do you hope to achieve from your couples counseling sessions? Decidedly less flattering an answer- ‘wish Ky would lose some weight and clean up a bit’ hrm, ‘bitchs too hairy’ Well a little disjointed but there you have it. What do you think about that, Ky?”

And so Ky learns that his overflowing emotion is not limited to affection and bliss. Too Hairy!? Sean’s always loved his body hair! His hand flies to his chest in indignance as he is shocked by how much Sean’s words hurt him. Looking down at his hairy arm gracing even hairier pecs, he tears up anew staring at fur coverage that now fills him with embarrassment. 

As he sits there stewing in discomfort as he has to hold himself back from tearing strands of hair from his skin. Then his mind is awash with a numb fog as the miraculous begins to happen. Hairs covering his chest begin slowly retracting. At first they seem shorn away, as if a razor blade was sweeping through the forest of hair like scythe. But as they continue to retract and disappear, the pale skin underneath is revealed to be smoothing and softening as if he never grew body hair to begin with.

Looking at his smooth chest in wonder he covers his face with a hand and is shocked to find that it is not simply his carpeted chest that has been struck hairless. Under his clumsy fingertips he feels his scratchy beard fading away, teardrops coursing down smooth skin onto a jawline that has not been free from stubble since high school. His free hand goes to his crotch as he feels his pubes retract into a pruned garden and the hair tickling his legs is waxed away. The quivering anxiety in Ky’s chest sinks lower as he feels butterflies in his stomach. Suddenly a strange idea flickers through his mind, ‘Sean will be so proud of me! When he sees how smooth I am-’ and then he shakes it off. The alien thought reminds him of the man watching, of the man who must be changing him, he feels the waning urge to fight back return. Though as he looks at his hands, as he feels his buttery, sensitive skin, he can’t even remember what just changed. Did something change?

His voice cracks and, beneath his notice, he speaks with a tone worlds away from the gruff domineering voice he once knew as his own, “Doctor LucIEN- Ugh- Are you doing something to me? I, I can’t remember,” The doctor scratches his beard, forcing some deja vu through Ky. The memory of him playing with a beard on his own face is clearer than anything. And then his head burns with pain as it changes. Clutching at his own head he grunts as he realizes he was misremembering! That was Sean’s beard, obviously. 

Ky fights back a giggle as he quickly recontextualizes the man in the hallway was his boyfriend all along! Seeing a look of reverie on Ky’s new hairless face, Lucien’s grin almost twists into a grimace as he demands the envelope be pushed further, “Did you miss the first part of his answer, do you not think yourself too bulky?” Lucien’s eyes burn into Ky as he shakes his head in disagreement, “Oh? Well Sean certainly seemed to think so.” Turning around the sheet for Ky to read the answer, the once DL man pauses.

Mouth falling ajar, he quietly moans as he watches a hand that he swears has spent countless hours lifting weights suddenly loses its callouses. He sees his palm thin as his bicep almost atrophies. Over a decade of hard work keeping himself strong, broing out at the gym, showing off his strength and dominating other men quickly begins to fade from his mind. After a moment the idea that he would dominate anything becomes laughable, how could he possibly dominate anyone? 

Smaller hands fondle his chest as pecs that he was once incredibly proud of follow the route of his thinning arms and body hair and retract. Perky nipples remain as his weighty pecs shrink into nothing, leaving behind something flat, little at all remaining to grasp but skin and the barest hint of a feminine figure that he knows would drive Sean wild. That always has driven him almost mindless with hunger, he can almost feel the man’s grasp on his hips as his waist thins. Moaning at the memory a smile returns to Lucien’s face as he prepares to finish this new couple.

“Lastly, what is something you wish your partner did? Any guesses as to what he wrote?” Caught off guard by being addressed, Ky shakes his head and unconsciously poses. Head tilted and slightly downturned as he awaits what Sean is going to ask of him, already knowing he is more than happy to fulfill whatever it may be. 

Even sitting there before Lucien finally seals his fate, he continues to change. Lips grow plumper as he pushes down an urge to flirtily bite them. His jawline smooths and his back arches. The cock that was once his pride and joy shrinks as it is no longer the primary tool of his satisfaction. While just about every inch of his form compacts inward his ass puts on mass, becoming the perfect bubble butt for Sean to do what he will.

“Succinct, your partner simply answered, ‘for him to admit he was mine.’” There’s a tickle in his chest as he finds the statement absurd, Ky is his? Letting loose, the new twink giggles to his heart's content, swaying back and forth as every breath and break between shrill laughter his arms perfectly frame his new thin form, “I mean girl! What are we doing here!?” Limp-wristed hand covering his face as he leans back to laugh, “Sean was so right this is just a waste of time!”

Removing his glasses and performing placation, Lucien raises his hands in mimesis of defeat, “By all means Ky I think you’re right, you and Sean are clearly perfect for each other and have no further need of my services.” Ky stands and stumbles forward, tripping with vertigo from his lower vantage, he starts to spill onto the floor before, from out of nowhere, his waist is yanked by a man towering over him. Lightheaded from the fall, and in general, Ky turns with a grin to see his Sean haloed by the office light pulling him up.

The twink is pulled to Sean’s chest with ease, feet lifted off the floor as the behemoth raises him into a sloppy kiss. Ky giggles as his lover’s beard tickles his face before bending back and winking at the therapist upside down, “Thanks for reminding us we don’t need anyone but each other Doc!” Sean grunts in turn and starts carrying his bottom out the door, the twink waves farewell as the Doctor watches in repose, “Ta ta~” 

Ky throws his arms around Sean’s neck as the pair make their way outside of the office. The brute sneers at the receptionist he still doesn’t trust as the lovers the place never to return. Wistfully Ky tries to remember why they came in to begin with, “Do you know why went in there babe?” Sean shrugs and grunts as he feels Ky bounces with his shoulders, bumping a thigh against his crotch, igniting his hunger.

Exhaling like a bull when they make it to the car he throws Ky into the backseat and quickly falls over him. “Babe don’t forget to close the door! We’re in public!” Sneering out at the empty parking lot, Sean obeys and slams it shut before returning his attention to one of the only things that matter to him, stuffing this twink with his massive cock.

The door to Lucien’s office closes by itself as he folds up the surveys and puts them into a file cabinet near his desk. Another couple successfully helped. It shouldn’t be long at all before the pair start creating content and attracting more men to seek his services. After all there’s sure to never be much on the mind of either men besides the next fuck. Surely no one who stumbles across their videos will be able to resist being drawn to changing themselves.

Lucien smirks as he can picture the car rocking in his mind as he wonders where to away to in the meantime. What lucky sod is he to help next, only time will tell.

[octuscle]

Bro, you really think I've always been your dude on the side? I kinda feel like I used to be a total beast too, right? Ah, screw it. Mind if I give you a parting BJ?

[anothermaletfwriter]

How do you feel being a twink?

(Accidentally deleted the anon ask oops: can you please do a story where the library changes a total douche straight guy into the ideal, effeminate twink asian boyfriend of the gay guy he relentlessly bullies? would love if the guy feels himself becoming trapped in his own mind & unable to stop his new body from absolutely fawning over the new love of his gay life. your stories are soooo hot)

Liam Richardson never got along with his gay roommate, Daniel Lee. For starters, Liam didn’t even originally pick out Daniel as his roommate. The original roommate he picked was a straight white jock bro like himself but he never arrived. It was only after Daniel arrived that Liam learned the original roommate dropped out of university to work on his full-time job of teaching a course about selling other courses.

Liam didn’t consider himself homophobic. He just didn’t want people to shove their sexuality in his face, despite him constantly doing the same for his heterosexuality.

Daniel was the out and proud gay that caused agitated Liam. Daniel wore soft oversized colorful outfits. His bedsheets and blankets were a rainbow. He had rainbow pride flags and posters of K-pop groups hanged on his wall. Underneath his bed was his collection of BL and yaoi manga. He made the place smell of peaches and cream.

To most people, Liam was a bully to Daniel, making fun of his looks, gay voice and the gay media he enjoyed. He had resorted to verbal bullying after his first and only attempt at physical bullying had backfired. After a two hour gym session, Liam had come home, wearing a drenched muscle tee that barely covered his juicy pecs, to Daniel eating the chips he had left out on the counter that were meant for him. After a loud argument between the two of them, Liam put Daniel in a headlock, flexing his muscles as he shoved Daniel’s soft face into his musky pits. He stopped after a few seconds when he felt Daniel’s boner on his legs. He swore off to never do any physical bullying again, despite Daniel’s multiple requests for him to do it again, sometimes he even offered money for it, which Liam still turned down.

Because of Daniel, Liam had to calculate around his schedule, figuring what time he got home to sneak a woman into their place for a quick fuck session. His type were short busty women, except for Asians as he didn’t find them that attractive, especially if they wore nerdy glasses. He enjoyed how powerful he felt towering a foot over his women.

Daniel wasn’t shy about his dream boy: Soft, effeminate, twink and Asian. Liam was pleasantly surprised Daniel never brought any guys home. He didn’t want to see any gay sex, especially one that involved Daniel. When asked when he would find a guy to hookup with, Daniel simply responded with, “You’ll know when I bring him home.”

When he woke up this morning, he could swear Daniel was staring at him with a big smile. What made it even creepier was his recollection of Daniel speaking in Mandarin before he fell asleep last night and a glance at his laptop revealed he was looking at ancient love spells.

There was a new library in town, and Liam went there, voluntarily, not to study but to go searching for any women to bring home and breed. If he timed it right, he had an hour to find one and fill up before Daniel got home. His predictions were accurate as he was able to snag a seat that give him a clear view of the pod of sorority girls chattering amongst themselves. While Liam slowly got up to approach them, he stopped midway from his chair. A soft vanilla fruity scent clogged his nostrils like if someone had thrown a perfume bomb in the middle of the library. He looked around and noticed no one seemed to even realize the smell. As the perfume entered his body, he felt his chest grow warm, prompting him to go to the bathroom.

Once he arrived in the empty bathroom, he was shocked to see another face in the mirror. His nose was shorter with a wider base. His hair turned from deep wispy brown to spiky jet black. He now had monolids as his eye colors became black. His skin a golder tone than the pale beige it had before. He was Asian! Liam tugged at his elastic skin like it was a mask but it stung when he tried to pinch it off. It was his own flesh, not synthetic. But that couldn't be, he was a white guy named Liam. No he wasn’t. He was David Nguyen, far from an ordinary white guy.

A softer voice appeared in his head, revealing himself as David, “Hey I’m not done yet,”

“What the fuck? What do you mean not done yet?” Liam asked himself in the bathroom, his deep voice bolting like rain, “Get out of my head and fix me back to the white jock I was before.”

“That’s not what Daniel wants.”

“I don’t give a little shit what that gay boy wants.”

“That’s just too bad. Anyways, I’m taking over your form as per his request so enjoy the ride! It won’t hurt a bit, it will just feel even warmer!!” The voice taunted before disappearing, much to Liam’s protests for it to return.

Liam curled him up his biceps and made a fist, vowing to find Daniel before anything else happens. But before he could exit the bathroom, his body froze. No matter how hard he willed for muscles to move, they wouldn’t budge. Before he could think, his body returned back to the sink and mirror. David was in control of his body and Liam couldn’t even yell for help.

His body formed a smile as the rest of his transformation continued. His frame fizzled out. He had shrunk a couple of inches as the ceiling lamps seemed further up than a minute before. A natural red blush developed on his cheeks that made makeup pointless. His hands were smaller and softer, with the scent of strawberry hand lotion quietly on them. The tight tank top that wrapped around his big chest became loose as his pecs and abs flattened out. He raised his arms as the mirror revealed they losing most of their definition. He pulled up his pants and saw the atrophy of his leg muscles as well, they were slender and hairless like the rest of his new form. He coughed as his Adam's shrunk, sounding more feminine. While his muscles and strength shrank, On the flip side, his ass felt heavier, owing it to his bottom-friendly exercises at the gym.

Liam tried to reverse the transformation by thinking about his attraction to women but the harder he thought about their bouncing breasts and leaking pussies, the more of his thoughts became clouded with other men topping him. Liam begged to have his sexuality spared but David declined, stating it was the part most important to Daniel. He coughed out his heterosexuality. No more attraction to women, no desire to have sex with them. All in his male gaze was other men now. This couldn’t get any worse.

His roommate boyfriend, Daniel, walked in. His smile piercing through David’s confusion, as he squeezed the little muscle left on his chest, “You okay, David?”

Liam was no longer in control of his body, let alone his consciousness. All the douchey and toxic parts of his masculinity were cleansed out and replaced with a softer, effeminate and sensitive one. His voice rose in pitch, matching the one speaking in his head earlier, “Yeah, I just needed a minute to myself"

Daniel puckered a kiss on his lips, standing shoulder-height to his boyfriend of a few months. The internal Liam was in agony. He was no longer in control of his body, since if he was in control, he would have punched Daniel. Liam was straight, he would never even think of kissing another guy, let alone someone as gay as Daniel. But he wasn’t Liam anymore, he was David, an openly gay Asian man.

Memories of their relationship were the next to be modified. Their argumentative battles and awkward standoffs as roommates were gone. All the hostility within vanished, and what remained was tranquility and love. Instead of a rocky start, their sparks flew off instantly, since they shared many of the same interests: cozy games, crocheting, Drag Race and K-pop. All the nights Liam spent on his phone watching football highlights were replaced by the vibrant pink nights where David and Daniel cuddled on the living room couch together underneath a Hello Kitty Blanket as they rewatched Drag Race clip’s and K-pop MNET performances on Youtube. On the table was the strawberry bobas they ordered nearly every weekend.

David was enamored with Daniel not just because of his cute twinkish look but his soft, adorable personality. He would be infuriated if he knew that his old version as Liam bullied his adorable cinnamon roll of a boyfriend. David and Daniel could not imagine where they wouldn’t be living together in their cute penthouse in Manhattan. Their first date was at the dining hall, eating bland cheeseburgers and salty curly fries, as David was the first to say “I love you."

The couple soon returned home from the library. Liam’s stacks of weights and dirty stinky gym clothes disappeared as Squishmallows and other plushies and piles of neatly folded laundry that smelled off fresh fabric conditioner. The mirror Liam used to flex and even spray a few shots of his seed on became spotless. Its outer frame became pink and decorated with Polaroids of Daniel and David together, almost like a shrine to their relationship. Liam could only watch in the back of David’s mind and body as reality finished correcting its mistakes.

David and Daniel cuddled together and kissed on their beds that they had smushed together. Their hearts flustered as they touched every warm spot of their bodies out of love. They couldn't be any happier than this.

There was no Liam, only a David that had always existed and loved his roommate boyfriend, Daniel.

[captainmalewriter]

Down Under

Commission Story

Ryan was finishing up getting dressed when his phone chirped from a notification. He reached over to grab his phone and grinned when he saw it was a text from his friend Morgan.

"Hey! I'll just meet you at Rocky's okay, see you soon!"

Ryan replied and got back to getting dressed. He didn't want to keep his good friend waiting after all. Ryan had only met Morgan a month ago, but the two had grown to be pretty good friends within such a short time. Coincidentally, they met at the same restaurant/bar they were meeting up at- at Rocky's.

Ryan had gone to Rocky's for a date. He had waited for an hour until he eventually accepted the fact that he had gotten stood up. He unbuttoned his dress shirt and moseyed over to the bar side of Rocky's. Ryan sat down on a barstool, ordered a shot of tequila, and immediately downed it with a single motion. He then ordered another shot and downed that one too.

"Hey, maybe you ought to slow it down, yeah?"

Ryan heard some guy with an Australian accent talking to him. He swirled around in his seat to face him, ready to tell him to go fuck himself, but he found himself speechless after seeing the handsome stranger. The young Australian young man was dressed in faded blue jeans and a band T-shirt. He had a lit cigarette, and he took a drag of it while he walked over to one of the pool tables. He exhaled a sigh full of smoke before speaking again.

"I saw you at the tables over there, lookin' real sharp and what not. You been here a while... I take it it's been a bad night?"

"Ha, you don’t know the half of it..." Ryan scoffed.

Ryan joined him on the pool table. The man introduced himself as Morgan and asked Ryan what happened. Ryan then proceeded to spill everything onto Morgan. He wasn't sure if it was the tequila that loosened him up or if it was Morgan's kind, caring eyes that made him feel at ease, but Ryan just felt so comfortable in his presence. But to top it all off, Morgan never interrupted or shamed him for oversharing. He listened, and once Ryan was done, he pulled him in for a tight hug. It was as if Ryan had known him forever.

Ryan sighed and smiled as he felt the warmth of remembering when he first met Morgan. He was grateful that he managed to exchange contact information with him the night he met him. He had gotten to know him better since then.

Morgan was from Sydney, Australia and was visiting family in the US for an extended period of time. He was 24 going on 25, and he was a freelance DJ back at home. He was by all means a pretty ordinary guy, but Ryan could not deny his attraction to him. He was infatuated with Morgan since he first laid eyes on him, but as he got to know him, Ryan became head over heels for him. It was an attraction unlike anything Ryan had felt before, and he knew had to make a move.

Ryan left for Rocky's after packing a drawstring bag. He stowed it in the trunk of his car and hightailed it to the bar. Ryan waltzed in and saw Morgan smoking a cigarette. The tanned Australian matched Ryan's eye contact and grinned. Ryan felt his cheeks blush at the sight of those pearly whites. He then lied to himself that it was a date rather than just another hangout session. Oh, can a guy dream...

The two young men spent the night laughing, drinking, and smoking together until it was practically closing time. Ryan was ready to say goodbye for the night after sobering up enough to drive home, but then Morgan invited him over to his place for a night cap. Ryan accepted the invitation without a second thought.

"Alright, bud, make yourself at home," Morgan said as he opened the door to his apartment. Ryan stepped inside and took a moment to really soak in the surroundings. "It ain't much, I know, but it's home."

"Don’t worry, Morgan," Ryan turned around with a smile. "I'll feel right at home here."

Morgan then proceeded to make night caps for the both of them, but he had unexpectedly run out of alcohol. But luckily, Ryan came prepared. He went out to his car and brought back a bottle of scotch he had packed. It was a special brew, Ryan's original recipe.

Ryan poured out the drinks; scotch whiskey for Morgan, and regular water for himself. He watched with anticipation as he saw Morgan drink up the special whiskey.

"Damn! This is good! Where'd you get this?"

"Oh, you know, I've got my connections..."

Morgan was too busy drinking up to question it further. Ryan hid his smirk by drinking his glass of water. Soon enough after some time chit chatting, Morgan had finished his drink Ryan had made him. Then, after some more time, the sleepiness kicked in. Ryan saw how much Morgan was yawning and excused himself out. But instead of actually leaving, all he did was open and close the front door. He then waited patiently for the sound of Morgan's snores, then waited for the snores to die out too.

Ryan crept back to Morgan's bedroom. He peeped inside, and a devious smile spread across his face when he saw a flat, deflated Morgan laying on the bed. Then, no longer needing to be discreet, Ryan began to celebrate his success. That special whiskey was specifically designed to turn the drinker into a bodysuit. Ryan could only ever get his hands on one bottle of the stuff, but one bottle was all he needed. He just needed to make it count. And that he did.

He walked up to the bed and placed a hand on the bodysuit. Ryan was in awe as he ran his fingers across the plastic leathery feel of Morgan’s skin, accidentally squeezing out any air it had as he did so. He stripped the bodysuit of clothes and whistled when he saw Morgan in the glory of full nudity. He caressed the face while wrapping a hand around Morgan’s limp dick, then gave the bodysuit a quick peck on the lips. Ryan had a feeling that his attraction to Morgan went deeper than some random lust. Holding the transformed Morgan in his arms confirmed what Ryan suspected along. He wanted to become a part of him. 

Ryan leaned in and gave Morgan a kiss full of tongue. While French kissing him, he used his hands to stretch out Morgan’s mouth. It opened up like the mouth of a latex balloon. Once the opening was large enough, Ryan proceeded to dive head first into Morgan. Morgan being a slim guy leaning more towards the twink side made for a tight fitting bodysuit. Ryan was met with resistance but he pushed on at full force anyway. The bodysuit stretched like rubber as Ryan pushed his arms into Morgan’s legs; his fingers slipping into Morgan’s toes like a glove. He kept pushing and pushing until Morgan slurped up Ryan in one final wet gulp. Ryan filled the bodysuit to its limits, causing the bodysuit to drape over his own body like a rag. Morgan had become Ryan shaped because of it.

Ryan was filled with glee as he rested inside of Morgan. His little plan had worked, or so he thought. He tried to move around, but quickly found that he couldn’t. The bodysuit was such a tight fit that it wouldn’t budge no matter how much Ryan tried to move. Then, just as sudden, Ryan could feel the interior walls of the bodysuit closing in all around him. The bodysuit snapped into place like an elastic band, trapping Ryan inside. Ryan struggled but to no avail, and ended up blacking out inside of Morgan.

***

Morgan woke up feeling like absolute dog shit. His head was pounding, his eyes hurt, and his body ached all over. 

He laid in bed as he waited for the room to stop spinning. Morgan could vaguely remember what happened the night before. He visited his family in the morning, gym in the afternoon, then hung out with Ryan at night at Rocky’s then at his place. Morgan could still taste the crude mix of alcohol and tobacco in the back of his throat. But despite getting cross faded, Morgan was sure that he didn’t drink or smoke enough to black out. He then remembered the scotch Ryan had brought over. He only had one glass of the stuff, yet it knocked him out like a light. 

It also gave him weird fever dreams. He was dreaming that Ryan had gone inside his body; just putting him on as if he was a piece of clothing. Both his mind and body could vividly remember the feeling of getting stretched out to its physical limits as his body took in another body inside of it. His mouth stretching as Ryan stuffed his body inside of him. His internal organs moving aside as they made space for Ryan to take over the space inside his body. The thought of having another person inside of his body unnerved him. That dream was more a nightmare than anything else. Morgan wondered if he got a cramp because of how strong that body stretching dream was. He thought about it for a minute, then shrugged it off.

“That shit was too strong...” Morgan muttered. It tasted good, but if it singlehandedly caused his hungover and fever dreams, Morgan wanted nothing to do with it. At least, not until it was a special occasion again. 

Morgan let out a loud burp. He smelled the foul scent of tobacco and something that smelled like fine leather. Morgan groaned and decided to go shower. 

Morgan was still aching all over as he showered. He hadn’t felt that sore since he attempted a triathlon years ago. As he showered, he noticed how bloated he was. But the bloating wasn’t limited to just his gut, he was bulging in various random places around his body. His thighs, his arms, his chest, he had just packed on extra mass everywhere!

But as soon as he noticed it, the bloating began to quickly go away. The steam from a hot shower obscured Morgan’s vision as he underwent a second body transformation. All the body swelling was melting away until he was back to his usual, slim self. It was painful, but Morgan endured it.

And at the same time, Ryan had woken up inside of Morgan’s body. He could feel Morgan moving on the outside, which meant he felt Morgan’s body once again closing in all around him. But it wasn’t painful this time; in fact, it was pleasurable. 

Ryan moaned from inside Morgan’s body, causing Morgan to moan too as the sound traveled out from within. Ryan’s body began to morph and stretch to accommodate its new shell. Ryan could feel the effects of having gone inside the bodysuit head first. Ryan’s arms filled into Morgan’s legs, his legs into Morgan’s arms, his face into Morgan’s cock and balls, and his groin into Morgan’s face. Only their midsections lined up as Ryan and Morgan merged into one human being. Now instead of just wearing Morgan, Ryan had become an irremovable part of Morgan. And as Morgan looked at himself in the mirror, Ryan could see himself through Morgan’s point of view too. He could feel everything now. 

Morgan inspected himself in the mirror. All the body swelling had miraculously just disappeared as if it never happened. Morgan was confused, but not able to come up with any answers, reluctantly let it go. He stroked the edge of his jawline with thumb and forefinger. Ryan could feel his beard stubble on his toes. Morgan then walked out the bathroom, slipped on some fuzzy slippers to lounge around the day away. Ryan could feel the slippers wrapping Morgan’s feet on his hands. It was as if he was wearing a pair of fuzzy gloves himself. 

And that was more or less how their lives played out from there on out. Morgan continued living his normal day to day life while Ryan got to ride passenger seat undetected from inside his body. Everything Morgan felt, Ryan felt the inverse of it. Every time Morgan took a deep breath or drank something warm, Ryan felt his own dick feel warm from the stimulation. The bodily sensations were a pleasure that were out of this world. Morgan fancied facial massages, which meant a hand job for Ryan; and whenever Morgan jerked off, a facial massage for Ryan. It was intensely and sensually homoerotic. Ryan still remembers the first time he shared an orgasm with Morgan. It marked the first of many, as he continued to live within Morgan’s, content with his new life as a young, scruffy, fiendishly handsome Australian twink. 

Thank you for supporting!!

[thefusioncelestial]

Mix 11: A Transition Complete

Anonymous asked:

Add a hung twink and jock type transman in your list

Life was great for Alex. He was on the basketball team & popular with everyone. You see everything about him screamed a fine specimen of a man. But he had an open secret.

He was trans. But look at him:

You couldn't tell. The chemical treatments were a resounding success. He had ladies all over him.

But there was one part that refused to change: his reproductive organs. He still had his initial parts despite the hormone regimes. Fertility tests showed that if he had sex with someone of the opposite parts, he would get pregnant. This greatly attracted other men to him. They wanted this stud to have their babies.

Alex was fine with this. However, the winds of society was blowing away from him. Transmen & Transwomen were being demonized. He was a political science major & knew that the next election was going to flip to those who hated people like him. He could get surgery and get an artificial man rod, but that meant bye bye to having kids of his own.

He needed a solution.

His close friends, that included Christian and Shun, knew of his worries. They pondered for a bit on what to do. They decided that Alex would join the fold.

After bringing him over, Alex was explained of the solution: He would merge with another dude. Take their manhood, be reborn completely without question as the man he desired to be.

But there was a problem.

They have never merged beings with opposite sexual organs. If it resulted in an true blending, then Alex would have a cross or both. It must be assimilation.

They had a target.

The annoying Fred:

A twink with a massive rod for his stature. He somehow found about about the David & Goliath Society and wanted in. Truth be told he just walked by the dorm while Shun was absorbing Tim. He heard the explanation, heard the process, and ran as Shun walked out the dorm.

No amount of history shifting would make him forget. The prospect of going from a twink to a buff man or at least an athletic one was too much for him to not want in.

He pestered Christian & Shun to upgrade him for a while. They decided to they would grant his wish, but on their own terms.

They were going to call Fred, but he was around the corner, coming to pester them again. He knocked on their door. He was let in.

Christian & Shun had large smiles on their faces.

"Congrats, you are getting your wish," Shun said.

Fred was excited, but before he could start bouncing with joy, he saw Alex.

"Am I about merge with the most desirable dude on campus," he asked in shock.

"Does he have the size I need," Alex asked.

"Size?" Fred asked.

"I need someone with an larger rod than what their body would suggest their body said they should have," Alex said.

They soon explained the situation to Fred.

He was a bit unnerved.

"You are asking me to get eaten by someone else instead of being the upgraded," he said.

"You get to become one with Alex, you know his rep. With your help, he can act out some of those activities. You'll get to feel what he feels, you get to experience a more mature body," Shun said.

He continued: "Tim in still in here, my experiences also flow to him. And he influences my decisions," he finished.

Alex blushed. Prior to this, Alex agreed to have kids with Shun if he couldn't find a partner by 28. A surrogate father. Tim's desire to start a family influenced Shun. Alex was perfect as far as he was concerned. But now his survival was at stake. He would have to become competition in earnest to live. Shun relished the challenge.

People like Fred looked up to Alex. He had everyone swooning over him. He walked out of many parties with people of both sex & genders literally hanging off his biceps. He could have that. He just got to give himself up.

"We could just force you, ask Tim," Christian said.

"Don't get so hasty. I'll bite," Fred responded.

"Show me you have the goods," Alex said.

Fred took out his phone and showed Alex a picture:

He was well hung alright. He revealed that he was a grower & that was it at rest.

Alex coughed at the prospect of getting it for himself. Fred just wanted the Alex experience. Basketball team, parties, people fawning over him.

They both stripped down to their birthday suits.

Christian took the necklace. Explained how it worked and put it on Alex.

To increase the chances of success. It was decided that Fred would hang on Alex's back like a cape. The idea of "pushing out" the old organs, and let Fred's settle in.

Fred was on Alex's back within the minute. Hanging on, excitedly.

The necklace melted in Alex.

Fred began to melt into Alex. Starting from the feet first and then processing upwards. Alex grunted. Fred blushed & moaned.

Then their reproductive organs & butt. Only Fred's upper half remained.

Stomach, chest, and arms followed. Fred, despite that fact that he was being assimilated was very happy. If he has to upgrade someone else, then Alex was his number one choice. Now only a neck and head, Fred pushed in, fusing starting from the back of Alex's skull.

He was gone. What was Fred was now a mix of dna & biomatter floating in Alex.

Alex & Fred's mind quickly merged. Alex did not want to reject any aspect of Fred and cause a feedback loop elsewhere.

Alex let out a large exhale.

Alex's dna hungrily took Fred's. The new dna fired up and the changes began.

Alex stood upright.

He felt his reproductive organs change. He craned his neck & head upwards. He was moaning. If felt like he needed to pee. But instead of pee or a child, the flesh inside liquefied and solidified into male reproductive organs, and at the same time began to push out.

It started as a massive of slightly off colored skin. At first it just hung there outside, then it perked up & began to constrict and form into the shape of a man's family rod. The birth of new neural paths connecting his reproductive organs to his brain were born.

The remaining mass turned into a liquid filed sack. He felt his new veins and nerves go in and intertwine. Two small hard masses formed inside the sack, and as they grew larger they took in those nerves and veins. He had a pair of balls now.

His body shape shifted. It took more ques from Fred. Alex could feel his body stretch. "ugh" He was taller. His chest got smaller, and his nipples sat more straighter, but they became more dense. He didn't loose mass per say, but his body was making better use of how it distributed the muscle fiber. His body did this all over. He took in more & more of Fred's twink traits.

"uhhh"

More squeezing. His arms met the same fate as his chest. Smaller, but so much denser.

Surprisingly, his legs grew instead. A pop could be heard. Alex grunted in response.

As his stomach contracted, his abs reshaped themselves. Fred's eight pack was now Alex. It was like 8 balls slowly floating to the top, breaking the surface at the same time.They were rounder & more uniform.

His neck stayed the same. His skin became smoother.

His began to morph. His eyebrows were from Fred. His eyes a combination of both with Alex's bags now gone. His lips & mouth a combination. His nose from Fred. His ears from Alex.

His hair shifted color to Fred's brown, but the hair style was from Alex only a bit more metro.

The excess testosterone did their work. Facial hair exploded from all over Alex's body. Arms, stomach, chest, and face were all now partially covered. Alex would need a shaving routine now.

Alex let out a deep exhale & opened his eyes. The merger was done.

He ran to the mirror and checked out his new features. He quickly looked at his new man rod and was elated. He got what he wanted. He could work on his muscle sizes, or absorb a buff dude if it bothered him so much.

Christian wrote everything he saw in his little journal. Shun was proud of the new person birthed before him & nodded in approval.

"Just a sec," Alex said. He ran to the bathroom. 10 minutes passed by. What was he doing? The sink turned on, and Alex washed & dried his hands.

"It works."

They both realized what Alex just did. Must be Fred inside him.

"Welcome to the fold," Christian said.

Alex agreed to become a part of their new society.

He was still a star basketball player, still partied, but now wore protection. He could get someone pregnant now. Fred in subconscious made him enjoy & appreciate his life more. He saw & felt through Fred what the other side felt.

Fertility tests were done. He was fertile. He could still have a family. And with the shifting of history, Alex was always born a man. He didn't have to worry about persecution. But he felt bad for those straddling the line. Part of the agreement in joining the group was to help those within the trans community fully transition via fusion if they wanted. Alex was now in charge of that task within The David & Goliath society. Shun would use his money to help those in need as well, no matter what stage of transition they were at or wanted to stay in.

With Fred's memory, he found his speedo from the earlier picture and put them on. Fred's influence opened him up to these skimpy beach wears.

[davidchavlover]

I’ve always taken on the role as a dominant Alpha; had a bunch of beta lads follow my lead. But my other chavvy mates have implied that they’ve had enough of me thinking i’m better than them. Had enough of serving my every whim. They seem to suggest that they can take me down a peg. Make me even more of a beta than they are, if that’s even possible. I overhead some remark about giving me a ‘tight bubble butt’ and a ‘change of clothing’.

Not that i’m too worried mind, those dipshits with all their brain power combined wouldn’t be able to organise a thing. And besides i’m far more assertive than those basic chav lads, there’s no chance in fucking hell I’d end up serving them. It’s proper hilarious they think they can try though, right?

You shouldn’t have been so arrogant. Maybe if you hadn’t strutted around like you owned the place, if you hadn’t sneered at the lads every time they cracked a joke, if you hadn’t acted like you were better than them, maybe then they wouldn’t have felt the need to put you in your place. But it is too late for regrets now.

The invitation had seemed normal. Josh had texted you in the evening: "Come over, mate. Just a few drinks. The lads are here." Nothing unusual. You had done this a hundred times before - drinks, banter, maybe a bit of fun with the lads.

At first, everything was normal. You cracked a few jokes, took a few swigs, but something felt… off. Your vision blurred faster than it should have. Your limbs grew heavy, your thoughts sluggish. Had you really drunk that much already? You tried to shake the fog from your mind, but your body wasn’t listening. The room tilted. The last thing you saw before the darkness swallowed you was the lads closing in their hands pulling at your clothes.

You woke up disoriented. The first thing that hit you was the smell. It clung to your skin. It was sweet and fruity. Not the musky cologne you always wore, not the faint sweat of a night out. This was something delicate, feminine.

You were in bed. The sheets were soft. You reckoned they must have brought you to a guest room after you had passed out. Panic flared as you tried to sit up, only to feel the cold bite of metal around your wrists. Handcuffs. Your breath came in ragged gasps as you thrashed, kicking the blanket away. Your body was different. Your arms, once lean but strong, were now slender, dainty. Your skin was smooth, hairless, almost glowing in the dim light. And to your shock there was a cage on your dick. A scream tore from your throat. It was high-pitched and not your voice at all.

The door creaked open. Josh stood there, arms crossed, grinning. "Not feelin’ so cocky now, are ya, princess?"

Your blood ran cold.

"Me an’ the lads reckoned you needed teachin’ a lesson," he continued, stepping closer. His fingers trailed along your bare leg, making your skin crawl. "So we made you into somethin’ a bit more… fun."

"W-what did you do to me?!"

Josh chuckled, pulling a small vial from his pocket. Liquid swirled inside, pink and shimmering. "Just a little serum. Made you more agreeable." He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "Don’t stress, bruv… by the time we’re done, you won’t even wanna kick off."

You screamed again, thrashing wildly, but he grabbed you and held you down while he emptied the serum into your mouth. Darkness swallowed you once more. But next time you woke up… You wouldn’t resist.

The golden light of evening spilled through the curtains as consciousness crept back in. You blinked slowly, your mind hazy, your body warm and pliant. You looked down at yourself. You were dressed in an oversized pink tee and some briefs. The realization of what you were wearing should have sent you into a panic. But instead, a different kind of feeling was low in your stomach. You shifted on the couch, thighs pressing together and God, you were so fucking horny.

Your fingers twitched, craving touch, craving a man to please. The lads would be here soon. Josh had promised. And they would use you, just like they always did. The thought made your pulse skip, your breath hitching in anticipation.

Wait… Always? A flicker of confusion cut through the fog. You tried to grasp at it, to remember… but your mind felt slippery. There were flashes - laughter, sneers, your voice, loud and arrogant - but they didn’t feel like yours anymore. Just distant echoes of someone else.

Now you knew you had never been the leader. You had never been one of the lads at all. You were Josh’s. His toy. His good little thing to share with his mates when they fancied a fuck. The knowledge settled into your bones, warm and right, like it had always been that way.

A mirror hung on the opposite wall. You caught your reflection - pouty lips, wide eyes, a delicate frame. Your hair was softer now, fluffier, and lighter in colour. You looked cute.

You squirmed, biting your lip. The fabric of your briefs was damp already from your precum. You couldn’t wait for them to get here. Couldn’t wait for Josh to grab you by the hips and remind you what you were for.

"Look who’s finally awake," Josh grinned, stepping inside with the others behind him. His gaze raked over you, lingering where your thighs squeezed together. "Missed us, princess?"

You nodded, breathless and started to undress for them.

______________________________________________________________

I hope you enjoy your new life as a twinky toy for your new owner. That nice bubble butt will definitely be used tonight, and I think your new clothes fit you way better anyways…

[futureperfectchanges]

The Pride Pin

"Have you got a little rainbow flag? Or maybe a rainbow handkerchief?" Edward asked the man behind the counter. He was on his way to a gay wedding and had seen a large pride flag in the window of this store which had given him an idea. "Basically something that I could put into my breast pocket for a wedding i'm going to." Before quickly adding: "To show my support to the grooms that is."

"Ah, how nice, although I'm afraid I only have large flags at the moment, but I do have a few pins left over from Pride, would one of those work for you?" replied the shopkeeper as he pointed to a box a little further down the counter.

"Looks perfect" Edward said as he picked up one of the pins.

"Just to check - you did say you wanted it to show you're an ally of the gay community didn't you? It's just that some of the items in this store can be a little, well, unpredictable, so just wanted to be clear about things before you try it on."

"Of course" Edward lied.

In truth Edward hadn't wanted to go to this wedding at all. He worked with one of the guys getting married, John. They had joined a law firm at the same time so had met during their induction and had been good friends for a while - at least until John had come out as gay and started dating guys. Edward was glad that John was happy, but had since mostly avoided hanging out together unless it was a work event. He had gone to one dinner soon after John's engagement to his boyfriend, Miguel, but had spent the whole meal feeling embarrassed. Everyone else at the table had been so obviously gay and they had made no attempt to talk quietly, so he was sure all the surrounding tables had been judging him all evening.

When Edward had received the invite to the wedding he had initially planned to decline it. What had changed his mind was the fact that a lot of John's straight female friends were going to be there, and with most of the other guys at the wedding being gay, it was almost guaranteed that he would hook up with one of the girls. He hoped that the pride pin was going to be the 'icing on the cake' with regards to getting attention from the girls. How could they turn down a guy who was so supportive of his friend? With any luck he would be back at home with a lady before the happy couple had even cut the cake.

"Here, let me put it on for you" the shopkeeper offered.

Edward had intended on keeping the pin out of sight until he had entered the wedding, but he didn't want to offend the shopkeeper so let him reach over and place the pin on his lapel - he'd just take if off as soon as he left the store.

Edward looked at the mirror behind the counter and his first thought was to worry that the pin might make the girls at the wedding think he was gay too. He started to wonder if it was a bad idea, and as if to confirm that he felt the pin prick his chest. Soon after he felt another prick and he wondered if the shopkeeper had failed to cover the back of the pin properly. When he started to feel more and more pricks on his chest, and not just where the pin was, he began to worry that something was wrong.

Edward felt like he was being stabbed with needles all across his chest and he felt like he had no choice but to pull his jacket off. He didn't know what was going on, but he needed to stop whatever was causing the pain.

Edward was confused. He had taken off his jacket and the pricking sensations had stopped, but when he looked down at his chest he didn't understand what he was looking at as it. What he first saw on his chest was a mix of colors that hadn't previously been there. It was as though someone had covered his chest in paint.

"¿Cómo?" Edward said aloud whilst continuing to stare at his chest. He had never had a tattoo so didn't understand what he was looking at. As he reached up to rub off whatever was on his chest it quickly dawned on him that the colors were not going to come off easily.

"What is this? Is this a tattoo? How do I get this off?" Edward asked in increasingly frantic tones, all with a slight Spanish accent. He had been so fixed on the new tattoos that he hadn't noticed that the rest of his body had taken on a subtle tan.

The shopkeeper didn't reply, he knew that if an item from his shop was not used as intended it could cause a little confusion for the customer, so he just waited to see what would happen.

"What is going on? And what's wrong with my voice?" Edward asked as he started to get angry. "I'm a dancer at Infernos nightclub and if you want to see me shake my ass... wait... no I meant to say i'm a dancer, no a dancer..." Edward had wanted to tell the shopkeeper that he was a lawyer at a powerful law firm and would kick his ass if he didn't fix what was going on but he didn't seem able to get the right words out.

Whilst Edward's mind tried to deal with what was going on, he started to wonder what sort of options he had to get rid of the tattoo, or what he could do just to cover it up. It was then that he looked back at the mirror and realised how much else had changed across his body. His heart sank as he knew there was no way he could cover everything up.

Edward sighed as he thought again about what to do with the tattoos, but was then confused. Why was he thinking of covering them up? He loved showing them off. He had spent so much of his life hiding who he was, but now there was no one who was going to stop him from being his true self. He was Eduardo - a proud Latino twink.

Eduardo felt the jacket he was holding and then remembered that he had come in to buy a new shirt. "Hey, do you have any dress shirts?" he smiled as he asked the storekeeper. "My best friend is marrying some fancy lawyer today and I want to look good for the occasion!"

[misctf]

The Wrong Number

Kyle grins as he snaps a post-workout selfie, quickly sending it to the chick he met at the bar the night prior. His grin widens as he sits naked on his bed, thinking about her. He could still feel her lips against his, the way her hands roamed his body. He could still hear her moans. And as his thoughts continue, he absentmindedly strokes his hardening dick.

“Fuck...” He mumbles.

Probably one of the best hook-ups he had in a long-time. And he couldn’t wait for part two.

“Hey babe, you around tonight? Ready for round 2?”

He stares at his phone, awaiting Stacy’s... no Brittany’s... no... He chuckles as he realizes he doesn’t even remember her name. But did it matter? He’d make an effort to learn it tonight- he wasn’t the least bit concerned she would turn him down. Especially with that selfie he sent. His muscles bulging, dusted perfectly with manly hairs. Yeah- totally irresistible.

“Come on.” He whispers as he sees she’s writing a response.

His heart sinks when he receives her response- a selfie. And it is not a selfie of the blond, double-D, bombshell he bagged last night. No, this was a dude. A buff, cocky dude. Kyle feels his dick soften as his own cocky grin shifts to a frown.

“Hey there cutie.” The message underneath the selfie reads.

“Sorry, wrong number.” Kyle replies quickly.

A fake number? Really? Kyle felt pissed. Did she really give him a fake number? And who the fuck was this guy? And why did he call him ‘cutie’? Kyle groans as he realizes he wouldn’t be seeing her again. Her loss, he figured. The young man started to stand up, but his phone buzzed again. It was that guy.

“Come on, don’t be like that.”

“Lol, sorry bro. Chick gave me the wrong number.” Kyle replies, “Women, right? Lol.”

Based on the selfie, Kyle figured the guy frequented the gym. Maybe they’d have some stuff in common. And part of Kyle felt maybe he could commiserate with a fellow bro. But his thoughts slow as he stares at the pic. Drinking in each detail and contour of the man’s body. The guy’s massive, juicy pecs taking up most of the selfie. And Kyle absentmindedly wonders what they feel like. And as he scratches his chest, he does not register his chest hairs falling away, leaving him cleanshaven and smooth.

“Wouldn’t know, cutie.” The man replies, “Thought you’d know that after last night lol.”

Kyle raises an eyebrow- his thoughts speeding back up. What did this guy... ohhhhhh... Now he knew. Kyle feels rage build up at the realization. Was this guy flirting with him? First he gets a wrong number, now some gay guy is trying to make a move? Just his luck...

“Don’t swing that way, bro.” Kyle replies.

Kyle went to block the number, but something causes him to stop. What did the guy mean ‘after last night?’ Kyle knew he hooked up with a chick. And two, Kyle wasn’t gay. He’d never... Kyle shifts uncomfortably as his his wide frame and proud muscles begin to decay. The increasingly slender young man barely registering his shifting frame.

“You sure? Could’ve fooled me.”

Kyle bit his lip, “What’re you talking about?” He types with his increasingly more dainty and feminine hands. His thick callouses from his workouts smoothing over and becoming soft.

“Did I fuck your brains out or something, cutie?”

Kyle shifts uncomfortably as his ass swells, filling with squeezable fat. An ass no gay man would be able to resist.

“OMG please stop.” Kyle texts back, “Like, I don’t even know who you are.” He stares at the messages he just sent, part of him registering that something was off with his word choices.

“What about now?”

Kyle gasped at the selfie the man set. His perfectly chiseled muscles and exposed pits causing him to blush. A thought crosses his mind- he would want nothing more than to be laying on that man’s chest. To thrust his nose into those dark, musky forests. And as he thinks of more things he’d want this man to do to him, he strokes his dick. Up and down, up and down. Not even registering that his prided manhood was getting smaller. And smaller. And smaller yet. Settling on a measly three inches hard.

“Like, no... something’s like totes...”

Kyle moans as the pleasure from stroking his dick suddenly intensifies tenfold. And then begins to dwindle, only to return. But he realizes it’s no longer his dick that brings him pleasure. No, it’s his ass. His hole clenching desperately for something to fill it. His mind racing with the new realization that he desperately needs his prostate stimulated.

“Need another reminder?”

Kyle can barely contain the feminine moan that escapes him as he gazes upon a dick pic from the stranger. And as he stares at it, licking his increasingly puffier lips, he realizes he needs it. And he needs it now. In his mouth, in his ass- anywhere. As long as it was inside him.

“Please daddy, I need it.” Kyle quickly texts back, sending a selfie of his own.

“Good boy. See ya soon slut.”

Kyle moans again, as his ass pulses with pleasure. The anticipation clouding his mind, his thoughts slowing. But as he stares at his new selfie, he can’t help but feel that this is wrong. That he wasn’t some smooth, bubble-butt, horny twink desperate for a quick fuck. No... he was... he was... A giggle escapes his increasingly puffy lips and he stands up. His ass sticks out as he saunters over to the mirror. Drinking in his new look. Loving his thicc ass, his small cock, and lean figure. His mind filling with all the knowledge he would need to please any man and a desire to do just that.

“Mmmmm daddy...” He moans, as he squeezes his own ass. His voice sultry and high-pitched.

It’s only a few minutes later until there’s a knock on his door. And the young twink saunters over, opening to reveal the man he had been texting with. Only a few minutes later, his nose is buried in the man’s musky pits. His memories of the girl yesterday vanishing from his mind. And as he deep throats the man’s dick, any interest he may have had in growing his muscles vanishes. It’s only when he’s thrown onto the bed, his ass up in the air, does Kyle panic. A sense of dread filling his psyche. Images of the man he was- his memories- filling his mind. But it all comes to a screeching halt as he feels his partner’s dick enter him. And with each thrust and feminine moan that leaves Kyle’s lips, more of these memories vanish.

Its only a few minutes later that the man leaves. Kyle is still lying in bed, cum leaking from his needy hole. His mind in shambles. But as the post-orgasm bliss fades, Kyle can feel the desire for round two start to grow. And with an ass like that, Kyle wouldn’t be waiting for long.

[alphajocklover]

Hey! My gay bestie and I got invited to a frat halloween party by some dumb straight jock and he sent us some costumes to "be more confortable in the party" but in the box he gave us theres just some caps and some shorts. Should we go? And I think this is a trick.

You’re right. You’re certain of it. This whole thing, you are your best friend being invited to a party by a bunch of stereotypical jocks, is definitely a trick. Specifically, those caps and shorts are a trick. Or they're at least a part of one. You can tell by the barely hidden mischievous grin on the face of the frat boy handing these costumes to the both of you that it’s definitely some sort of prank. Maybe itching powder or something? Still, if you or your bestie Jamie turn down the costumes, you can bet that they’ll probably do something worse. The two off you head to the bathroom, whispering to each other as you do 

“I’m not putting on this hat. Baseball caps are so tacky! Only douchebags wear backwards caps like that. Plus they probably put glue in it or something.” You said, scowling slightly as you looked at the unassuming but somehow threatening hat. Jamie giggled slightly next to you “Personally I’m not worried about the cap as much as I am about the shorts. What if they put itching powder or something in there? Or what if they’ve worn them before! So grody!” Jamie said, wincing at the thought of wearing someones used, sweaty shorts. You laughed slightly at the look on his face. Then, like lightning, a thought occurred to you. You grinned at Jamie as you explained.

“You know what? How about we see whose right. You only put on the hat, and I only put on the shorts. We know it's a prank so we might as well have some fun with it. Whoever suffers less, gets a favor from the other. Deal?” You asked. Jamie considered this for a moment, looking uncertain… before grinning 

“Okay hun. Let's do this.” He said. With the bet in place, Jamie handed you one of the pairs of shorts he had been carrying and you headed into the bathroom while he stayed outside to put on one of the caps. You felt a little embarrassed as you stripped off your pants (and shirt because the jocks had insisted every guy be shirtless), and tried not to look at your lithe body in the mirror. You slid the shorts up onto your body… and felt something like lightning shoot through your body. While, not your body. Your legs. Like magic, they began to inflate with a mix of muscle and fat. Your calves looked incredible, your thighs were thick with muscle, your cock grew to obscene proportions, thick and meaty, and best of all was your ass. It could only be described as a bubble butt. Thick and juicy and delicious. From the ass down, you were a Greek god. You’d be incredibly turned on… if you weren’t freaking out. What the heck had just happened? Was this some kind of allergic reaction? You were going to scream for help… when a dull knocking was at the door. Numbly, you opened it up… and found something shocking.

It was Jamie. Or, Jamie’s legs. From the waist down it was obvious he was the same skinny flamboyant gay guy you had gone to the party with. But from the waist up… he was exactly like one of the dumb frat boy jocks who had invited you to this party. The same beefy pecs that you almost wanted to call tits, the same huge biceps, the same thick bodybuilder neck, and the same dumb grin and dull eyes that had nothing but thoughts of muscle and sex behind them. You stuttered as you tried to take in the scene before you “J-Jamie?” You asked in shock. The dumb jock laughed dully, like you had just made a fart joke

“Nah bro, names James. J-bro if you wanna get nasty.” James said, flexing his muscles cockily. 

One of the jocks who had given you guys the costumes, Brock, approached the two of you, a happy grin on his face, that quickly evaporated as he saw what was before him 

“Oh fuck! What did you two do?!”

After a lot of freaking out and accusations – and some inappropriate groping of your ass by James – The three of you were finally able to figure out what happened. You and Jamie were right to think it was a prank, but it was much bigger than either of you had thought. The cap and shorts were supposed to turn you both into the perfect frat boy jocks who would join the frat, but because you two had mixed your clothing and split one set instead of using both, you had both been… half jocked. You got the bottom half, including a muscular ass, legs, and big feet, while Jamie got the top half, including beefy pecs, muscular arms, rippling abs, a chiseled face and a jock's brain. It quickly became apparent there wasn’t any way to turn you back, at least not one the jocks would give you, and they couldn’t transform you any further.

You definitely got the short end of the stick. While James, as he now called himself, didn’t get the leg muscles, muscular ass or the huge cock, he was able to fix most of that through hard work. Jocks love working out, so with his new personality becoming a frat boy completely was almost inevitable. The only thing he couldn’t change was the cock, and as it turns out James was never a slouch in that area to begin with. He wasn’t as big as some of the other jocks, but no one could say he was small. You, however, got the jock libido and a huge, fuckable ass, with none of the showy muscles or charm. Without the jock attitude and work ethic your leg muscles faded pretty quickly. Except for your ass. See, despite the jocks plan not having worked out as they thought it would, they did accept both of you into the frat to try and help you with your changes, and while you struggled with the leg workouts they showed you, you found you loved squats. 

So, you ended up a horny gay twink with a bubble butt and a big cock, while your best friend Jamie turned into a complete douchebag jock named James. To your surprise, you both fit in great with the frat boys now. They are not as straight as you assumed, and now you’re basically the frat cum dump. With your libido, you basically have to be, cause when you’re not being fucked you can barely think. So you’re the frats favorite fuckable twink now, at least when you’re not busy getting fucked by your boyfriend James. Turns out he didn’t change as much as you thought, and his old crush on you blossomed into a passionate relationship. No one got what they expected, and how you got to this point was a little fucked up, but when you’re being railed by J-bros thick cock as he smacks your bubble butt and kissed you lovingly, you can’t find it in yourself to care.

[wakeup01]

IDOL

“Babe, I’m horny. Is your mouth busy right now?”

Mike was your average 23 year old football jock. The type of vapid fuckboy that peaks in high school and whose bigotry was worn as a personality trait. His current target of ridicule was Koreans, or specifically the rise and popularity of K-pop. A source of frequent frustration when the topic arose with his girlfriend. The petty insults and flagrant xenophobia made him feel bigger, helped hide his insecurities. He was a ‘man’. Something he hoped was proved by his broad shoulders and large dick. Korean men challenged that conceit. The attention they garnered from girls was like an affront to his existence. Any opportunity to insult them and the music was one he took; ‘they all looked the same’, ‘kpoop,’ ‘is that a guy or a girl?’

“Not this shit again. What the fuck are they even saying? How do you even understand that nonsense babe?” Mike yelled, while his girlfriend Jen watched a music video of her favourite boy group. She attempted to ignore his comments but he just couldn’t pass up the opportunity. “Jesus, how do you find these twigs attractive, they’re obviously all flaming homos.” He claimed, as the group gyrated their hips at the screen. A joke he thought was original and funny enough to laugh at himself.

“God, I’ve had enough of your small dick energy!” Jen exasperated through gritted teeth as she went to pause the video.

“Bro, don’t be gay…” Mike began to say before a bright light enveloped the room.

It was a remark he would come to regret a bit too late. With a flash Mike was transported to the other side of the screen, standing alone within the set he had just seen playing in the music video. Jen was nowhere in sight. It defied explanation, particularly to someone who failed college. Or ‘failing upwards’ as he called it. It was if time had stood still around him. Looking down gave a bigger shock. Mike’s once muscled body impossibly slimmed before his very eyes; his biceps deflating like a balloon, pecs flattening, tan whitening. Within seconds his body had morphed into that of a lithe 20 year old twinky Korean idol. Indistinguishable from the ones he routinely made fun of. The stereotype he had formed.

It was nothing short of a nightmare. The hundreds of hours spent in the gym to bulk up was akin to a myth. This was a body made for fashion magazine covers and social media appeal. A diet and workout regime laser focused on being slim, unassuming and feminine. His unfamiliar face had turned cute and innocent looking, freckled with smooth, porcelain skin. Large quantities of makeup covered up any hint of a blemish. Colourful and bright clothes popped out from the greys and blacks he was accustomed to. A far cry from his rather brutish appearance as a jock.

Mike shuddered at a more shameful revelation; his ass was now alarmingly large, and his tiny waist would have made his girlfriend Jen jealous. He lowered a hand to cup and feel the heft of his right butt cheek, shuddering as the warm fullness jiggled within his palm. The feeling made him feel good in a way he didn’t want to admit, like the nerves on his body had been rewired. He had never even considered his rear as something he could deride pleasure from, the idea alone disturbed his conservative nature.

Mike looked up, peering through long dark hair that pulled down and covered his eyes seductively. His tiny button nose twitched. A scent of lavender wafted up from his skinny chest. Every part of him felt manufactured to be beautiful and flawless, like a plastic doll.

“Fuck me. What the hell bro!” He shouted out, to no response. “Babe! Jen! This ain’t funny!” Mike said with uncertainty, hoping this was all some prank, or at least a nightmare. Maybe Jen was just getting her own back somehow.

The shock of his new form was short lived, as his mind began to shift, the universe course correcting in light of his altered Asian appearance. It felt like his personality was splitting in two. Mike and…someone else. There was a new voice in his head and it was getting louder with each passing second. Unlike Mike, it was peppy and enthusiastic. It sounded like him, but also not. Perverted. It made him recoil. Mike’s mind started to fill with lyrics, and not ones in English. It was the voice, it had to be; it was just there, occupying the back of his head, like a barely heard whisper. ‘바꾸자!’ 바꾸자!’ It said. Sang. To Mike’s horror, the words that should have been nothing but gibberish were making perfect sense.

“The f…f…frick? This, this…uhh strange.” Mike stuttered, his English fragmenting.

“B…babe?” The usual swears and slang he used felt inappropriate, crude. It was unbecoming of someone like him. Like him? He second guessed, before that voice - that sickeningly positive voice, agreed. Like him. Yes. Besides, English was such a tough language to speak. Wait, was that true? Wasn’t he fluent? Kinda fluent? Well, maybe his pronunciation was a bit off. But it was cute, charming. He liked to play up the ‘Engrish’ and the confusion. People liked ‘the ditz’ and his lower intelligence was honestly a selling point.

‘바꾸자!’ The lyrics pressed upon him again, this time accompanied by a beat that looped around his skull like a record. A ritual. ‘바꾸자!’ Instinctually he started to hum along to the music playing over and over in his head, the melody was immediately catchy, it was as though he knew it off by heart. ‘바꾸자!’ It was stuck to his brain like chewing gum. Appropriately, the flavour seemed artificial, short-lived. The song was expertly produced, but soulless. Crafted to an exact science. Intended only to be played until the taste was gone. Content to consume and then dispose of when something new comes around. But that was the Kpop industry, that was his role. A short sell by date with a ticking clock. Capitalise on the looks, youth and popularity while you can. Michael attempted to argue, to fight back against the notion that he had anything to with it. That he was some meaningless cog in the Kpop music machine. That he existed to just look pretty, to drain easily swayed fans to make execs money. He was a true American, the greatest nation in the world. But the other side of him was getting stronger. The voice. They wanted the fame. The silly dances, the impersonal songs with no meaning. The weird infantilising and fetishising by fans. Impressionable, optimistic and swept up with the promise of popularity. The naive belief of his group ‘making it big’. Even though in reality, they were just one of dozens of new groups debuting each year. Unremarkable.

Mike felt himself slip, naively thinking about the attention he would get. The idea wormed itself in and gained leverage on his weakening psyche. Girls would be into it, wouldn’t they. Go all gooey at the sight of him. What’s worse, dance moves and strict choreography was starting to ingrain itself into his mind - overtaking all his knowledge and dedication to workouts and sports. Those topics were unimportant, useless to his future as a perfectly engineered Kpop boy. The facade of looking cool and confident took priority. Girls like the swagger though, he reasoned, as his cock shrank. They like the fakeness of it all. His hefty balls shrivelled.

A losing battle ensued inside Mike, he was quickly losing control. He cringed slightly as his lean body naturally moved and bounced to the song running through his head. His butt had a life of its own too, jiggling hypnotically to the beat. After all, his rear was his most notable feature, everyone understood it was the thing that set him apart in the group. He had ‘the ass’ as they said. The movements were immensely embarrassing to a ‘man’ like Mike, who prided himself on being as straight and masculine as humanly possible. This was ‘girly shit’, ‘gay ass’ behaviour. And yet he couldn’t stop himself in indulging his new Korean body. A body expertly trained for one thing. To entertain thirsty girls and gay boys. Whose worth would be measured against the other members and groups. To be ‘stanned’ - a culture Michael abhorred.

As his groin shrank, his dull and deep voice rose numerous octaves; higher and higher - with a noticeable lilt, until it was an appropriate high pitched squeak that would have people hyperventilating online. The sort of voice and accent that would facilitate shallow comments such as ‘omigosh’ ‘he serving’ and ‘high pitched fem king’. And of course comments speculating about his sexuality, his manhood. Not that there was anything to speculate about of course, Mike was as gay as a shiny rainbow with sprinkles on top. And his cock was barely worthy of mention. That much was obvious when wardrobe dressed him in those tight little shorts. Mike was…sorry, not Mike - that ugly name just didn’t fit him anymore. He was 민준 or Minjun. A gay Korean bottom. The worst kept secret among the boy group he was contracted to. A frequent point of teasing from the other members, but something they were keen to take advantage of whenever possible.

‘Mike’ internally screamed as a dreamy smile grew across his pretty manicured face, images of other men flashing across his mind. The idea of a ‘girlfriend’ - of being dominant, flittered from his memories. Servility, obedience and an eagerness to please ruled his new personality, one perfectly suited to fulfilling contractual obligations. And…other obligations, ones his more experienced group members expected from him. Huge, long, throbbing ‘obligations’. He pushed out his big bubble butt, a new feeling growing down below. Centering his whole body around his rear. A feeling of… emptiness. It elicited a whiny, girlish moan from his plump, pursed lips. A stark contrast to the low timbre voices from the groups rap line, the ones that would grunt loudly while using Minjun’s hole.

The infectious melody was getting louder, taking over his thoughts, his identity. The sound couldn’t be drowned out, it was an extension of him, his body. His PURPOSE. Minjun could feel a bubbly sense of joy rising in his chest. Unadulterated happiness. The feeling needed to escape, he needed to purge who he used to be. That foul mannish thing languishing deep inside him- like some disease. There was only one way he knew how. His eyes gleamed with youthful energy. The lights of the set flashed, cameras rolled. Music faded in from speakers. His mouth opened. Opened wide and sang. “바꾸자! 바꾸자 스위치를 켜다!” The words flowed effortlessly. Any trace of ‘Mike’ was expelled. Minjun sang and danced like there was no tomorrow. Time seemingly unfroze, the other members of the boy group jumping into the scene beside him, dancing in unison. Vocals harmonised. The kpop music video continued - with him in the centre. God he was stunning. Beautiful. An idol! He was ready for the stage, ready for the publicity, the fans, the outfits, the photoshoots, the collectable photocards with his face on them, the…the…cock. The big hard cocks that would fill him up after the filming. Excited to please the rest of the group. They all had such good…rhythm. Oh gosh, he was ready for all of it.

He shot a cheeky wink directly at the camera, no doubt setting millions of girls hearts a flutter. Including Mike’s ex girlfriend, Jen, who was happily watching her new favourite member on the screen. Enjoying their new track, titled ‘바꾸자!’ or ‘Let’s Change!’. ‘Wow, he has such a nice butt’ she thought, biting her lip, as the group did a somewhat humiliatingly suggestive twerk.

Backstage, after the cameras had stopped rolling and the horde of choreographers had all left, Minjun had another performance to ace. One that equally involved the use of his high pitched vocals and rhythmic timing. His unfocused eyes flittered and stared out across the room dimly, his lips pursed. Smiling while his back was leaned over and his feet spread into position. The other members laughed amongst themselves as Minjun felt a pressure grow behind him. Their deep voices made his spine tingle and his brain fuzzy. A pair of hands landed on his rear, kneading his bubble butt like a ball of dough. The first cock slowly lodged its way into his pillowy cheeks, before a more upbeat pace took over. A queue formed behind him, waiting to prove why they were ‘Idols’. Minjin moaned, eager to please every single member of the group.

‘Ya! The fuckable one, that’s me!’ He thought, enthusiastically while his brain melted to idiotic bliss.

[dystopia-fantasy]

18 at Christmas

[kathiraven]

The Artifact’s Claim

Riven crouched in the center of the temple ruins, brushing dust from the stone altar. His flashlight flickered. It was cold—unnaturally so—but his chest burned.

There it was.

A strange, obsidian-black disc embedded in the altar, veined with glowing violet lines that pulsed like veins. No writing. No carvings. Just... humming.

He reached out—couldn’t help it. The second his fingers brushed the surface, the artifact liquified, surged up his arm like molten ink, and slammed into his chest.

He screamed.

It didn’t hurt—it pleasured. It seared him with raw, electric sensation, spreading across his bare skin, embedding deep. The world tilted, spinning into black.

He woke up sweating in his tent, shirt clinging to his chest. His heart pounded. His skin… tingled.

He sat up and froze.

There was a mark over his heart—no, not a mark. A living, glowing sigil, etched into his skin. It pulsed with violet light.

As he touched it, his breath hitched.

His fingers felt thinner. His wrist more delicate. No way. No. Freaking. Way.

He scrambled to the mirror.

His jaw was subtly sleeker. His cheekbones, higher. His lips—fuller, a little too kissable. And his eyes…

“Beautiful,” a voice purred from behind him.

He spun around.

Standing in the entrance of the tent was a man draped in silver robes, impossibly tall, with eyes like dying stars. His smile was sharp. Possessive.

“I am Kael,” the man said smoothly. “Guardian of the artifact. And now… guardian of you.”

Riven backed up. “What the hell did you do to me?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Kael said, stepping closer. “The artifact chose you. It is remaking you—to be worthy of its power. To be mine.”

Riven’s knees weakened. The mark flared—hot and aching.

“You’ll resist,” Kael whispered, brushing a strand of hair behind Riven’s ear. “You’ll fight. But every moment, your body will change. Until you don’t remember how it felt to be untouched.”

“And when you beg for me,” Kael smiled, “I’ll know the transformation is complete.”

Riven didn’t leave the tent for two days.

The sigil pulsed beneath his shirt like a second heartbeat—warm at times, burning at others. Sometimes it throbbed when he touched it. Sometimes it throbbed when he thought about Kael.

He hated that.

Each morning he woke up different. Smaller. More lithe. His shoulders less broad. His hands finer. His stubble? Gone. No matter how hard he tried, his razor scraped across perfectly smooth skin.

And then there was his voice—softer now, silkier. More breath than growl.

“Just side effects,” he muttered, gripping the edge of the basin. “Temporary.”

Behind him, his reflection said otherwise. His lips looked like they belonged on a model. His waist had pulled in, giving him a V-shape—not muscular, but shapely. His eyes shimmered unnaturally violet in the candlelight.

And his chest—his chest was…

He yanked his shirt back down, heart hammering.

“Losing it,” he whispered.

But the worst part?

He kept dreaming of Kael.

In the dream, Kael didn’t speak. He just looked—gods, looked—at him like Riven was the most precious thing in the world. Like he owned him. Sometimes Kael would lean in and whisper nothing at all… and Riven would wake up panting, aching, sweating through the sheets.

On the third night, Kael appeared again.

Not in a dream.

In his tent.

“I can’t sleep,” Riven said before he could stop himself, eyes flickering toward the sorcerer’s mouth.

Kael stepped inside. “You’re transforming.”

“No shit,” Riven spat. But it came out softer than he wanted—almost sulky.

“You’re resisting. That’s good.” Kael walked slowly around him. “The ones who resist change the most.”

“Great. Glad to be your experiment.”

“You’re not an experiment,” Kael said, standing behind him now. “You’re a vessel. A chosen one.”

Riven shivered. “Chosen for what, exactly?”

Kael leaned close. His breath was warm against Riven’s neck. “For beauty. For power. For me.”

Riven’s pulse spiked. His thighs pressed together on instinct. *No. No, no—*this wasn’t who he was.

But when Kael touched his shoulder—just fingertips—Riven gasped.

Like he’d been waiting for it.

His knees buckled slightly. Kael caught him. Held him. Just for a second too long.

“See?” Kael whispered. “It’s not just the artifact, Riven. It’s what you’ve always hidden. What you’ve always wanted to become.”

Riven’s lips parted.

He didn’t answer.

Because deep down, some part of him—traitorous and hungry—wanted the next change. Wanted the next touch. Wanted him.

Riven stood under the moonlight, trembling, shirt open and clinging to sweat-slick skin. The violet mark over his heart pulsed wildly now, brighter than ever, illuminating the courtyard in a soft, seductive glow.

His body was unrecognizable.

Slender but strong. Smooth. Hips curving gently under tight black cloth. His voice was nearly untraceable to his old self now—low, husky, sweet.

But his eyes—his eyes still burned with rage.

“I want it undone, Kael,” he growled, fists clenched. “All of it. I don’t want this body. I don’t want you.”

Kael stood across from him, calm, composed. His silver robes shimmered in the moonlight, his expression unreadable.

“You say that,” he replied softly, “yet your body says something else.”

“Liar,” Riven hissed—but his voice cracked.

Because Kael was right.

His nipples were hard under the breeze. His thighs were tight, pressed together. His breaths were short. Shallow. Needful.

Magic pulsed through him like a second heart, and every beat whispered his name.

Kael stepped closer. Slowly. Like approaching a wild animal ready to flee—or fall.

“You begged for this in your sleep,” Kael said, barely audible. “You whispered my name. Moaned for it.”

“No.” Riven backed away. “You did this. You’re manipulating me—my mind, my body—”

“I gave you truth, Riven,” Kael said, standing just feet away now. “I peeled away the false self you wrapped around yourself to feel safe. And beneath it…”

Kael reached out.

Riven slapped his hand away.

And then—

He shuddered.

Hard.

Like the rejection triggered something inside him. The mark on his chest flared bright. Blinding. He gasped as a wave of pleasure rushed through him, knocking him to his knees.

“No—f-fuck—no,” he stammered, hands gripping the ground.

His spine arched. His lips parted in a silent moan. His body betrayed him completely—heat building low in his belly, thighs trembling, hips twitching, begging for touch. Every inch of him aching.

Kael knelt beside him.

“You’ve fought so hard,” he whispered, brushing hair from Riven’s damp forehead. “But you were never meant to be that man.”

Riven sobbed—furious, humiliated, turned on.

“You don’t have to say yes,” Kael said gently. “Your body already has.”

And when Kael’s fingers trailed down his spine, Riven didn’t stop him.

He arched into the touch.

He whimpered.

And in that moment—gasping, flushed, and overwhelmed—Riven finally understood.

There was no going back.

Riven lay back on the silk-covered altar, chest rising and falling, bare and glistening under the violet glow of his mark. The air was warm, thick with magic and something deeper—desire, tension, surrender just waiting to happen.

Kael stood beside him, one hand hovering just over Riven’s skin.

“I won’t bind you,” Kael said softly. “This must be yours.”

Riven’s throat worked around the lump there. He’d run. Fought. Cried. Screamed. But all it had done was bring him back here, trembling beneath the one person who had never lied to him.

“I hated you,” Riven whispered.

Kael nodded, eyes soft. “I know.”

“I hated what you did to me…”

A pause.

Then, Riven’s voice broke—small. True.

“…Until I didn’t.”

He reached up and touched Kael’s wrist.

The mark on his chest blazed with light—hot, euphoric, right. His body arched with it, lips parting in a soft gasp. Magic surged through his veins like liquid pleasure. And Kael… Kael watched him with such reverence, it made Riven feel worshipped.

“Please,” Riven whispered, tears in his eyes. “Finish it.”

“Are you sure?”

“I want to be yours. All the way. I can’t keep pretending I don’t.”

Kael leaned down, his forehead resting against Riven’s. “Then be remade, my beautiful one.”

And with a kiss—slow, deep, electric—the transformation completed.

Riven moaned into it as the final waves washed over him. His waist cinched just a little tighter. His thighs softened, rounded, firm. His skin turned flawless, glowing. His breath came in shivers. His moans were pure silk. Every inch of him now radiated desire, power, grace.

He was no longer what he had been.

He was something more.

When Kael pulled back, Riven lay there—reborn. Glowing. Gorgeous. And entirely Kael’s.

“How do you feel?” Kael whispered.

Riven smiled softly, eyes half-lidded, voice dripping with sensuality.

“Hungry.”

Any suggestions for next?????

[entouragestories]

The Hockey Boys Part Two: The Gradual Takeover

__________________

This story has been in the making for a while, and I kind of quit in the middle of it for months. I couldn’t find an ending or the right direction. I hope you all enjoy this version; I think I started over at least two times.

part one here: https://hardwriterdeluxe.tumblr.com/post/727576341242920960/economic-hockey-boys

_______________

Alex’s plan was meticulous, calculated to usurp Max's place both on the team and in the social hierarchy. It began subtly, with Alex hanging around Max more often, always conveniently there to assist or "help" whenever Max needed it. He started emitting a new, strong smell with a musk that seemed to dominate the air around him. The scent was potent, masculine, and it slowly began to take hold in the locker room.

At first, Max didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. He was too focused on maintaining his status as captain and the team's star player. But the others started to change in their behavior. They began looking to Alex for guidance, respecting his opinions more and more, while Max found it increasingly difficult to command the same respect.

One evening, after a particularly intense practice, Alex approached Max in the locker room. The space was filled with the pungent scent of sweat and Alex’s overpowering musk. Max was exhausted, sitting on the bench, wiping his face with a towel. Alex, freshly showered but still emanating that musk, sat beside him, a smirk playing on his lips.

“You okay, Max?” Alex asked, his tone laced with a mix of concern and something else—something that made Max uneasy.

“Yeah, just tired,” Max replied, trying to muster his usual confidence.

“Maybe you should take it easy,” Alex suggested, lifting his arm to adjust his jersey, exposing his pit. The musk hit Max like a wave, making him feel dizzy and disoriented. “You’ve been pushing yourself pretty hard.”

Max nodded, unable to shake the feeling of Alex’s dominance growing stronger with each passing day. The musk seemed to cling to him, invading his senses even after he left the locker room.

Over the next few weeks, the transformation began in earnest. Max started to lose weight, his muscular frame slowly wasting away. His once-bulging biceps shrank, his pecs flattened, and his six-pack abs softened into a smooth, slender torso. His legs, once powerful and thick, became thin and frail. His skin lost its healthy tan, turning pale and almost translucent. His face softened, his jawline losing its sharpness and becoming more delicate and androgynous.

The changes weren’t just physical. Max’s confidence waned as he found it harder to assert himself. The team, too, started to notice but couldn’t quite put their finger on what was happening. Alex, on the other hand, grew more robust. His muscles became more defined, his presence more commanding. He had started taking Max's place not just in performance but in the hearts and minds of their teammates.

Max’s clothes began to change as well. His gear, once snug and highlighting his athletic build, became loose and baggy. His jersey, bearing the captain's insignia, was replaced with a simple tracksuit labeled "WATER BOY" on the back. His locker, once prominently positioned among the team's stars, vanished, leaving him with a small, inconspicuous cubby near the entrance.

“Hey, Maxie, can you grab us some water?” one of the players called out one day. Max looked up, realizing with a start that he had been demoted to a mere water boy. The name "Maxie" stuck, a cruel reminder of his new position. His memories of leading the team, of scoring goals and celebrating victories, began to blur, replaced by feelings of awe towards Alex and secret crushes on the more manly players.

The team quickly took advantage of Maxie's new role. They would make fun of him, teasing him mercilessly. "Hey, Maxie the Service Boy, clean out my locker!" they'd jeer, throwing smelly gear at him, the odor overwhelming his senses. The once-proud captain was now an easy target for their taunts, his weakened state making him unable to fight back.

One evening, after a particularly grueling practice, the team decided to play a prank on Maxie. At Alex's suggestion, they locked him into a locker filled with reeking gear, the pungent smell of sweat and musk suffocating him. Maxie banged on the door, pleading to be let out, but the boys just laughed and walked away.

Finally, Alex came to "rescue" him. He opened the locker, a look of mock concern on his face. "Having fun, Maxie?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Maxie stumbled out, his eyes watering from the stench. "Please, Alex, I can't take this anymore," he begged, his voice trembling.

Alex's smirk widened as he grabbed Maxie by the collar and pulled him close. "You'll do whatever I say, won't you, Maxie?" he whispered, his breath hot against Maxie's ear.

Maxie nodded, unable to resist the overpowering musk emanating from Alex's body. Alex pushed him down to the floor, standing over him in nothing but his musky socks, jockstrap, and pits reeking from practice. "Show me how much you appreciate your new role," he commanded.

Maxie, his mind clouded by the intoxicating scent, obeyed without question. He serviced Alex, his actions driven by a mix of submission and a strange, overwhelming desire. Alex watched with satisfaction, knowing that he had completely dominated and owned Maxie, at least within the confines of the locker room.

From that night on, Maxie was Alex’s toy, a secret shared between the two of them. The team continued to win, celebrating their new captain and hero, Alex, while Maxie's presence faded into the background. In the quiet moments, away from prying eyes, Maxie and Alex found solace in each other, their bond growing stronger with each passing day. Alex had successfully stolen Max’s life, and in doing so, they had found an unexpected connection that neither had anticipated.

Hope you all liked it, comment down below!