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verus-veritas · 4 months ago

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Becoming The Perfect Family

(AI-Generated - Story concept by the incredible @kylecrusoe-captions)

Kyle’s life had always been a gray blur. An only child to parents who barely looked up from their phones, he’d grown up starved for connection, his days bleeding into one another in a haze of neglect. Then the Armstrongs moved in next door, and everything changed. They weren’t any ordinary family—they were a force. Loud, physical, unapologetic, they filled the quiet suburban street with their presence. Kyle couldn’t look away. From his bedroom window, he watched them, his chest tight with longing, his mind spinning fantasies he’d never dare voice. They were untouchable he thought, until he found the tome.

It was a fluke, really. Tucked in the back of the college library, behind a row of moldy textbooks, the ancient book practically pulsed under his fingers. Its leather cover was cracked, its pages yellowed and curling, but the words inside promised power: Shape reality. Claim what’s yours. Kyle didn’t believe it at first, but desperation has a way of eroding skepticism. That night, alone in his room, he lit a candle, traced the runes with trembling fingers, and whispered the spell. He didn’t expect it to work. He fell asleep to the sound of his own heartbeat, disappointed... until he woke up somewhere else.

The bed was too small, the air thick with the musky scent of sweat and testosterone. Kyle blinked, disoriented, and then he felt a warm, heavy leg slung over his own. Clive Armstrong—his new younger brother—lay sprawled beside him, his lean, runner’s body barely contained by a pair of tight briefs. His wavy brown hair was a mess, his thin mustache twitching as he snored softly.

Kyle’s breath caught. He was in the Armstrong house, sharing a queen-sized bed with Clive like it was the most natural thing in the world. The room was cramped, cluttered with gym bags and running shoes, a testament to the family’s athletic obsession—and their lack of funds for separate bedrooms. Clive shifted, his bare chest brushing Kyle’s arm, and Kyle realized he was in his underwear too. No awkwardness, no hesitation—just the casual intimacy of brothers. The spell had worked.

Jared Armstrong: The Stoic Patriarch

The father, Jared Armstrong was a man carved from grit and muscle. At forty-five, he didn’t look a day over forty, his frame lean but powerful, honed from years of coaching college athletes into submission. His dark hair was cropped short, his jaw perpetually shadowed with stubble that gave him a rugged, almost dangerous edge. He was the kind of handsome that hit you like a punch—unpolished, raw, and utterly masculine. As the head coach at the local college, he had a reputation for running brutal gym classes, leaving students hobbling away with sore muscles and whispered curses. Cold and intimidating, he carried himself with a quiet authority that made people shrink in his presence. But with his sons, there was a flicker of something softer—a gruff tenderness he’d never admit to.

Kyle’s first morning as an Armstrong started with Jared. He stood in the kitchen, shirtless in a pair of faded sweatpants, barking orders as he blended a protein shake. His biceps flexed with every move, a sheen of sweat already clinging to his chest from an early workout. “Up and at ‘em, Kyle,” he grunted, barely glancing over. “No slackers in this house.” His voice was a low rumble, but there was no malice—just expectation. Kyle nodded mutely, still dazed, and Jared tossed him a banana with a smirk. “Eat. You’re too damn skinny.” It was the closest thing to affection Kyle had ever gotten from a father, and it lit something warm and dangerous in his chest.

Clive Armstrong: The Wild Spark

Clive was chaos in motion. At nineteen, a college freshman, he was the younger of Jared’s sons, and he wore his rebellion like a badge. Lean and toned, his body was built for speed—powerful legs that carried him through endless runs, a smooth chest that glistened with sweat every summer morning. His wavy brown hair fell into his eyes, and that thin mustache on his upper lip gave him a roguish charm. He was mischievous, quick with a smirk or a jab, but his temper was a live wire—explosive and unpredictable. Rumors swirled about him on campus: a passionate lover who’d leave you breathless, but a selfish one who’d sulk if he didn’t get his way. Kyle had seen it firsthand—Clive jogging shirtless around the neighborhood, ignoring Kyle’s timid waves with an annoyed glare.

Now, as his “little brother,” Kyle got the full Clive experience. That first morning, Clive rolled out of bed with a groan, stretching his jockish frame until his spine popped. “Fuck, I hate mornings,” he muttered, scratching his abs as he stumbled to the bathroom. He didn’t care that Kyle was there, didn’t bother to cover up—just strutted around in his briefs like it was nothing. Later, at breakfast, he shoved Kyle’s shoulder playfully, grinning. “You’re eating like a bird, bro. Gotta bulk up if you’re gonna keep up with me.” His touch lingered, his fingers brushing Kyle’s arm, and Kyle felt a jolt he couldn’t explain. Clive was a tease, a spark—and Kyle wanted to get burned.

Benjamin Armstrong: The Silent Storm

Benjamin, at twenty-one, was the eldest, a college senior with a presence that filled every room. Tall and muscular, he wasn’t bulky like a bodybuilder but lean and defined, his frame a testament to years on the basketball court. His intense eyes—dark and unreadable—could pin you in place, and the slight stubble on his cheeks only sharpened his brooding edge. Ambitious and quiet, he carried himself with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, dismissing anyone he deemed unworthy of his time. But those he cared about? He’d guard them with a ferocity that was almost feral. His athletic fame stretched across state lines—everyone knew Ben Armstrong, the guy who could sink a three-pointer with his eyes closed.

Kyle’s first real encounter with Ben came that afternoon. He was shooting hoops in the driveway, shirtless and focused, his muscles rippling with every move. Kyle hesitated, then stepped outside, and Ben glanced over—those piercing eyes locking onto him. “You just gonna stand there?” he said, voice low and clipped. He tossed Kyle the ball, hard enough to sting. “Shoot.” Kyle fumbled it, and Ben snorted, stepping closer. “Gotta work on that grip, man. You’re an Armstrong—act like it.” There was no warmth, but there was something else—possession. Ben didn’t ignore him anymore. He saw him.

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For weeks, Kyle soaked it in. The Armstrong house was a whirlwind of testosterone—sweaty gym clothes strewn across the floor, Jared’s gruff lectures about discipline, Clive’s endless energy, Ben’s quiet intensity. Kyle belonged, finally, and it was intoxicating. He’d catch himself staring—Jared curling weights in the garage, his biceps straining; Clive sprinting past the window, abs flexing; Ben toweling off after a shower, water dripping down his chest. They were his family now, but the tome under his mattress whispered a darker desire. He didn’t just want their acceptance. He wanted their love—the kind that crossed every line.

One night, alone in the dim glow of their shared room, Kyle pulled out the tome. Clive was out running, the house quiet. The spell was there, buried in the back: Bind their hearts. Irreversible. The warning loomed large, but Kyle’s hands shook with need. He’d rewritten reality once—what was one more push? He lit the candle, chanted the words, and felt the air hum with power. When he finished, the flame guttered out, and he waited.

The shift was slow, deliciously so. The next morning, Jared’s hand lingered on Kyle’s shoulder as he passed him a plate of eggs. “Looking stronger, kid,” he said, his voice softer, his stubble brushing Kyle’s cheek as he pulled him into a long, sweaty hug. Clive ambushed him later, tackling him onto the couch with a laugh. “Gotcha, bro!” he crowed, pinning Kyle down, his lean body pressing close, his sweaty armpit shoved playfully into Kyle’s face. “Smell that? That’s victory.” His grin was wicked, his touch too firm to be innocent. Ben, meanwhile, waited by the car after class, insisting on driving Kyle home. “Can’t trust you out there alone,” he muttered, his hand grazing Kyle’s thigh as he drove, his eyes flickering with something unspoken.

Day by day, it deepened. Jared took to coaching Kyle in the garage, his hands guiding Kyle’s form, his breath hot against Kyle’s neck. “Good boy,” he’d murmur, and the praise sank into Kyle’s bones. Clive’s roughhousing turned flirty—tickling that lingered on Kyle’s sides, headlocks that pulled their bodies flush. Ben grew obsessive, shadowing Kyle everywhere, hoisting him onto his shoulders after practice with a grip that was too tight, too tender. They were falling for him, their coy glances and casual touches betraying the spell’s work. Kyle had them—father, brothers, all of them—and he wasn’t done yet.

The Morning Fire

The tension between Kyle and Clive had been simmering for days, a slow boil of lingering touches and heated glances. It all came to a head one evening when their usual roughhousing took a turn. Clive had Kyle in a headlock, his lean, sweaty body pressed tight against Kyle’s, his armpit shoved into Kyle’s face as he laughed. “Take it, bro!” he’d teased, but Kyle—caught up in the musk and the heat—flicked his tongue against Clive’s skin, tasting salt and desire. Clive froze, his grip tightening for a split second before he let go, his face flushed, his breath uneven. He didn’t say anything, just smirked and walked away, but the air between them crackled.

The next morning, Kyle woke to a sensation that jolted him from sleep—Clive’s hand, warm and insistent, buried deep in Kyle’s underwear. Fingers curled around him, stroking slow and deliberate, coaxing him awake. Kyle’s eyes fluttered open, groggy, and there was Clive—his wavy brown hair tousled, his thin mustache framing lips inches from Kyle’s own. His face was flushed, his hazel eyes burning with intensity as hot breath fanned across Kyle’s skin. “I want you,” Clive rasped, voice thick with need, before closing the gap. His lips crashed into Kyle’s, hungry and unrestrained, a kiss that was all tongue and heat and perverse promise.

They made out like they were starving for it, hands roaming, bodies tangling in the sheets. Clive rolled Kyle onto his side, pressing up behind him, his jock musk filling the air as he positioned himself. “Gonna take care of you, bro,” he murmured against Kyle’s ear, his voice low and filthy. He entered Kyle slowly, inch by inch, his lean frame molding to Kyle’s back, arms wrapping around him in a possessive hug. The rhythm was sensual, deliberate—Clive’s breaths hitching as he thrust, his lips brushing Kyle’s neck, his cock buried deep. When he finished, he came with a shudder, spilling inside Kyle, kissing his spine as he stayed lodged there, unwilling to pull out. Exhausted and sated, they fell asleep again, entwined in the musky haze of their shared bed.

For the next week, it became their ritual. Every morning, Kyle woke to Clive’s hands or mouth on him, followed by slow, passionate fucking—Clive always the big spoon, always finishing inside, always kissing Kyle’s back as they drifted off again. The bedroom reeked of sweat and sex, an erotic sanctuary for their newfound bond.

The Steamy Afternoon

Benjamin noticed the change almost immediately. His younger brothers were different—closer, more tactile, their mornings stretching longer behind that closed bedroom door. He’d hear the muffled laughter, the creak of the bed, and it gnawed at him. Envy twisted in his gut. Kyle was his brother too, and Ben wasn’t about to be left out. He started claiming Kyle’s time during the day, dragging him to the basketball court five times a week. “Gotta toughen you up,” he’d say, his intense eyes raking over Kyle’s exhausted form. Kyle didn’t mind—Ben’s presence, all towering muscle and quiet intensity, was its own kind of drug.

One afternoon, after a grueling session, they stumbled into the house, drenched in sweat. Ben peeled off his shirt, revealing a torso carved from marble, and nodded toward the bathroom. “Shower time. But, uh, heater’s busted—only enough hot water for one.” It was a lie, and they both knew it, but Kyle didn’t argue. “We’ll share,” Ben said, casual as anything. “No big deal, right? We’re brothers.” The bathroom filled with steam, their wet bodies brushing as they stepped under the spray. Ben scrubbed Kyle’s back, his hands lingering, sliding lower than necessary, and Kyle returned the favor, tracing the lines of Ben’s muscled shoulders. The air thickened, their breaths syncing, until they were both hard, cocks straining against the heat.

Ben turned, water dripping from his stubble, his eyes dark with something raw. “I love you, lil bro,” he said, voice barely audible over the spray. Then, softer: “Need a favor.” Kyle didn’t hesitate. He sank to his knees, the tiles biting into his skin, and took Ben’s engorged cock into his mouth—thick, pulsing, tasting of sweat and salt. Ben groaned, hands fisting in Kyle’s hair, guiding him deeper.

They didn’t stop there. The afternoon bled into hours in Ben’s room, locked in a feverish 69—Kyle’s mouth on Ben, Ben’s on Kyle, sucking and licking until they were both spent, throats raw and bodies trembling.

The Ultimate Weekend

It was a lazy Saturday morning when it all collided. Ben slipped into the younger brothers’ room, intent on dragging Kyle out for an early shootaround, only to freeze in the doorway. There they were—Kyle and Clive, naked and tangled, lips locked in a sloppy, passionate kiss. Clive’s hands roamed Kyle’s body, possessive and greedy, and Kyle moaned into it, arching against him. Ben’s jaw tightened, envy flaring into rage. “What the fuck?” he snapped, storming in. Clive pulled back, smirking, but his eyes were defiant. “He’s mine, Ben. Back off.”

“Yours?” Ben scoffed, stepping closer. “I’ve been fucking him too, asshole.” The room erupted—shouting, shoving, a messy tangle of jealousy and testosterone. Kyle, caught between them, tried to mediate, but they weren’t listening. Finally, Clive growled, “Fine. Let’s settle it—whoever makes him cum hardest wins.” Ben nodded, grim and determined, but they couldn’t agree on turns. “Fuck it,” Ben said, stripping down. “We’ll do it together.”

What followed was a blur of heat and flesh. Kyle found himself sandwiched on the bed—Clive behind him, thrusting into his ass with that slow, possessive rhythm, while Ben knelt in front, feeding Kyle his thick cock, hands gripping his head. Kyle gagged and moaned, lost in the dual assault, their sweaty jock bodies pinning him in place. They were relentless, each trying to outdo the other, forcing him toward climax.

Then the door creaked open. Jared stood there, a tray of pancakes and coffee in hand, his plan to surprise Kyle with breakfast in bed crumbling at the sight. Clive and Ben froze, mid-thrust, panic flashing across their faces. “Dad, we can explain—” Clive started, but Jared cut him off, his voice a low growl.

“You little shits didn’t think to invite me?” He set the tray down, and Kyle noticed the bulge in his pocket—a stack of condom wrappers he’d tried to hide. His intentions had been less innocent than pancakes.

Jared stripped, revealing a body that put every dad in town to shame—hairy, muscular, a coach’s physique built from years of discipline. At school, he was a tyrant, but here, with his sons, he was different—gentle, submissive, eager to please. “I’ve got experience,” he said, voice rough with lust. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

The room descended into chaos—a perverse fuckfest. Clive resumed pounding Kyle’s ass, Ben fucked his throat, and Jared dropped to his knees, devouring Kyle’s cock with a hunger that bordered on worship. His tongue worked expertly, sucking and slurping, while his sons ravaged Kyle from both ends.

Hours passed in a haze of sweat and moans. Kyle came again and again—first from Clive’s relentless thrusts, then Ben’s brutal pace down his throat, and finally Jared’s insatiable mouth, draining him dry. When they finished, well past noon, Kyle collapsed on the musky bed, sore and blissed out. Ben snuggled close, nuzzling his neck, while across the room, Clive bent Jared over the edge of the bed, fucking him with the same passion he’d given Kyle. Jared took it eagerly, groaning his sons’ names.

Kyle lay there, surrounded by their heat, their love, their twisted devotion. Two jock brothers and a coach dad, all his—family and lovers in one. The tome had given him everything, and as he drifted off, drained and overjoyed, he knew he’d found his perfect place in the world.

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The Final Night

Kyle had everything he’d ever dreamed of—two jock brothers and a coach dad, their bodies and hearts bent to his will by the tome’s magic. But as the days wore on, a gnawing discontent settled in his bones. He’d crafted a perfect family, a perverse paradise of love and lust, but when he caught his reflection in the mirror—scrawny, unremarkable, a shadow next to the Armstrongs’ chiseled glory—it soured everything. He wasn’t one of them, not really. Not in the way he wanted to be. The tome, still hidden under his mattress, hummed with its final offer. Three spells per human, it had warned, before it would vanish forever. He’d used two—reality bending, heart binding. One remained.

Late one night, while Clive slept beside him, Kyle pulled the tome free. Its pages rustled as if alive, guiding him to a spell buried in the back: Soul Possession. The words were stark, immoral, promising to let him claim another’s body, their identity, their life—erasing them to make room for him. His eyes drifted to Clive, sprawled out in the dim moonlight, his toned runner’s body glistening with a sheen of sweat, his chest rising and falling in steady rhythm. Clive’s jock perfection, his promising future as a track star, his effortless charisma—it was everything Kyle craved. Losing Clive as a lover stung, but taking his place? That was worth it.

He lit the candle, traced the runes, and whispered the incantation, his voice trembling with greed. The air grew heavy, but nothing happened. Disappointed, he crawled back into bed, pressing himself against Clive’s warm frame, and drifted off. It wasn’t until the dead of night that the spell ignited.

Kyle woke—or thought he did—to a sensation of weightlessness. His body shimmered, losing form, dissolving into a pulsing cloud of pure energy. He hovered, disembodied, above the bed, staring down at Clive’s sleeping form. Then, slowly, deliberately, he began to flow. Tendrils of his essence slithered downward, seeking entry. They slipped into Clive’s mouth, curling around his tongue, tasting the musk of his breath. They poured into his nose, filling his lungs, and wormed into his ears, threading through the delicate canals. Lower, they ventured—sliding under the waistband of Clive’s briefs, seeping into his cock, hardening it as they invaded, and creeping into his asshole, stretching and filling him with a perverse intimacy.

The process was slow, sensual, a violation so deep it bordered on ecstasy. Inside Clive, Kyle’s energy spread, weaving through every blood vessel, every nerve, a warm, electric tide. He pushed deeper, seeking Clive’s core, his soul, his essence, and found it; a bright flickering spark. Kyle enveloped it, forcing himself inside, fusing with it until there was no separation. Clive’s knowledge flooded him—every race he’d run, every lover he’d taken, every rebellious outburst. His dreams, his aspirations, his thoughts. They were Kyle’s now, absorbed and owned.

On the bed, Clive’s body rebelled. His lean frame seized, muscles twitching violently, his head thrashing against the pillow. Sweat poured from him, soaking the sheets, his jock musk thickening the air as his limbs flailed. His cock strained against his briefs, leaking, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. Then, with a final shudder the new core snapped into place. Kyle’s essence fully merged and Clive’s body stilled, limp and glistening in the moonlight.

Morning broke, and the new Clive woke. He stretched, relishing the taut power of his legs, the flex of his abs, the weight of his cock in his briefs. He slipped out of bed, leaving the damp sheets behind, and padded to the bathroom. The mirror greeted him with Clive’s face, and he stopped, breath catching. This was his now. Every detail, every curve, and he intended to savor it.

He leaned closer, hands trembling as they rose to his head. His fingers tugged at the wavy brown hair, thick and soft, pulling gently to feel the roots stretch against his scalp. It was wild, untamed, a runner’s mane, and he let it fall back into place, a slow smile spreading. His gaze dropped to the thin mustache framing his upper lip. He caressed it with his thumb, tracing its coarse texture, the bristles prickling his skin. It was Clive’s signature—roguish, bold—and he pressed harder, feeling the shape of his mouth beneath it. His tongue darted out, thicker than he remembered, heavy and warm as he ran it along his lips, tasting the faint salt of sweat. He pushed it further, curling it against the mustache, playing with its heft, a perverse thrill building in his gut.

He raised an arm, flexing the lean muscle, and buried his face in the pit. Clive’s jock musk hit him—sharp, earthy, a heady mix of sweat and testosterone that made his head swim. He inhaled deeply, letting it fill his lungs, his cock twitching in his briefs as the scent consumed him. With Clive’s vocal cords, he spoke, voice thick and resonant, a rumble that vibrated through his chest: “I love myself.” The words hung in the air, a declaration of ownership, and he groaned, the sound raw and primal.

Memories flickered—Ben in the shower, water slicking his chiseled frame, their bodies pressed tight, then locked in a 69 on Ben’s bed, sucking each other dry. Jared bursting in with breakfast, only to strip and beg Clive to fuck him, his hairy ass clenching around every thrust. The reality he’d crafted had followed him, woven into this new life. The sight of Clive’s face staring back, the musk, the voice, the memories—it was too much. His hand brushed his briefs, and he came hard, a hot, shuddering release that soaked the fabric, his knees buckling as he gripped the sink. He panted, watching the flush spread across Clive’s cheeks in the mirror. But it wasn’t enough. He needed to know more, to feel more.

He stood there, panting, and let Clive’s memories unspool in his mind, a torrent of sensation and sin. Clive jerking off in the shower for the first time, marveling at the power of his own body, the water slicking his lean frame as he came against the tiles. A summer night, lying shirtless on the roof with a boy from track, his hands on Clive’s abs, his mustache brushing the boy’s neck as he whispered filthy promises he’d never keep. And the dreams—Clive’s aspirations to go pro, to feel the wind on his face as he broke records, to fuck his way through every city he’d race in, leaving a trail of spent lovers behind. Every memory was vivid, visceral, a tapestry of sweat, sex, and defiance, and Kyle drank it all in, his cock throbbing anew as he claimed it as his own.

Clive—once Kyle, stepped out of the bathroom, his briefs still damp from his spontaneous release. The mirror had been a revelation, a slow dance of self-discovery that left him trembling with power and lust, but it wasn’t enough. His new flesh hummed with potential, every nerve alight with Clive’s vitality, and he craved more. He padded back to the bedroom, the air thick with the musk of sweat and sex that clung to the sheets from nights of passion with his former self. The tome was gone, its third spell spent, but its legacy pulsed in his veins. This was his now—every inch, every scent, every shudder—and he intended to claim it fully.

The bed loomed before him, a tangled mess of stained fabric and jock stench, a testament to Clive’s athletic life and their shared mornings of perverse love. He crawled onto it, knees sinking into the mattress, and pressed his face into the pillow where Clive’s head had rested hours before. The smell hit him—sharp, tangy, a heady mix of sweat and testosterone that made his cock twitch anew. He groaned, low and guttural, and dragged his tongue across the fabric, tasting the salt of Clive’s essence, now his own. His hands roamed his new body, tracing the lean muscles of his chest, the taut ridges of his abs, and he marveled at the power beneath his skin—runner’s legs, a sprinter’s core, all his to command.

He flipped onto his back, briefs straining as his arousal grew, and raised an arm high. Burying his nose in his pit, he took a long, drawn-out whiff, savoring the jock musk that rolled off him in waves—raw, earthy, intoxicating. It was Clive’s scent, distilled and potent, and he inhaled again, deeper, letting it flood his lungs until his head spun. “Fuck, I love this body,” he rasped, Clive’s thick voice rumbling through his chest, a sound that vibrated with ownership. His hips bucked involuntarily, grinding against the bed, the friction sending sparks up his spine. He needed more—needed to feel this body break under his will.

He rolled onto his stomach, straddling the mattress, and began to hump it slow and deliberate. The sheets rubbed against his cock through the briefs, rough and teasing, as he thrust his hips, imagining every race Clive had run, every lover he’d fucked, every moment of this body’s life now his to relive. His breaths came in pants, hot and heavy, as he picked up the pace, grinding harder, the bed creaking beneath him. He lifted his ass high, thrusting into the air, muscles flexing—calves tight, thighs quivering, abs clenching—as he chased the edge. One hand gripped his hair, tugging at the wavy strands, while the other slid to his mustache, caressing it, feeling its bristles against his fingertips. His tongue lolled out, thicker and wet, licking at the air as if he could taste his own musk.

The pressure built, a molten coil in his gut, and he raised his arm again, shoving his face into his pit for one last, obscene sniff. The musk overwhelmed him, a primal trigger, and he lost it. With a guttural shout—“Fuck, yes! I’m Clive!”—he came, an explosive climax that tore through him. Jock semen erupted from his cock, thick ropes shooting out, splattering across his chest, the sheets, and—impossibly—arcing high enough to hit the ceiling in wet, dripping streaks. His body convulsed, hips jerking, as he rode the waves, smearing the mess across his abs with every shudder. The room reeked of cum and sweat, a shrine to his new identity, and he collapsed, panting, a grin splitting his face.

The door creaked open. His brother Ben and father Jared stood there, framed in the entrance, their faces frozen in shock and streaked with splatters of Clive’s cum. A dollop clung to Ben’s stubble, another dripped from Jared’s eyebrow. For a moment, silence hung heavy, then Ben swiped a finger through the mess on his cheek, bringing it to his lips. He licked it clean, slow and deliberate, a wicked smile curling his mouth. Jared followed, wiping the cum from his face and sucking it off his thumb, his eyes darkening with hunger. “Fuck, Clive,” Ben growled, voice thick with lust. “You’re a goddamn mess.”

They barged in, shedding clothes as they went—Ben’s basketball shorts hitting the floor, Jared’s sweatpants pooling at his ankles—revealing their muscular, sweat-slicked bodies. Clive, still sprawled on the bed, cock half-hard and glistening, didn’t resist. Ben dove first, pinning Clive’s wrists above his head, his tongue lapping at the cum on Clive’s chest, while Jared knelt between his legs, hairy coach frame looming as he took Clive’s cock into his mouth, sucking with a submissive fervor that belied his brash exterior. “My favorite son,” Jared mumbled around him, voice muffled, and Ben chuckled, nipping at Clive’s neck. “Favorite brother, too.”

Clive groaned, head tipping back, as they ravaged him—Ben’s hands roaming his pits, inhaling deeply, Jared’s throat working him with expert care. Round two stretched into a blur of flesh and moans, their twisted love consuming the room. Clive didn’t mind—couldn’t mind. This was the final ending he’d hoped for all along: The tome was gone, but Clive Armstrong was his, body and soul, and his family’s insatiable devotion sealed the deal. The bed creaked, the air stank of jock musk and cum, and as he came again, spilling into Jared’s eager mouth, he knew he’d never want for anything else.

#reality shift #straight to gay #reprogramming #brother #dad #jock #love #possession #magic #AI-generated

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immortalmrwavell · 5 months ago

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The Identity Transfer

(Original story posted February 6th 2023) This story has been mildly Updated!

Written for @the-natwolf

It’d been a long day for Nat as he arrived home feeling exhausted and wanting nothing more than to chill out for the last few hours of the evening. The first thing he did was whip up a nice hot meal for himself to satiate his growling stomach. Soon after he’d finished his meal, he was collapsing onto his bed with a drink in hand as he pulled out his phone and scrolled through some of his socials.

Naturally it wasn’t long before he found himself on Instagram. He took a sip from his drink as he flicked through the various posts. Some were of his friends, some being adverts and others being funny videos. But of course one of the most common themes while scrolling had to be the huge manly hunks showing off their half naked bodies. As a gay man, who could blame him. There would be bears, jocks, dads and meatheads alike just filling his feed to the point where more often than not Nat found himself unable to go on Instagram in public.

“Damn he looks good…” Nat mumbled to himself as he stopped on an image of a bear showing off his big hairy pecs and stomach. In honesty he’d always been a little jealous of men like that. Men that were huge and masculine. It made sense though. After all, Nat was 26 now and stood at around 5’7 with a pretty lean average build. He wasn’t really that hairy either. He might not have been as hunky as the men he drooled over but he didn’t hate his body. He was content with what he had… mostly. When there were guys out there his age and younger that were well over 6 foot and stacked with muscle, it was hard not to be at least a little envious of them.

He took another sip of his drink before his seemingly endless scrolling was stopped dead in its tracks. Up had popped a new post from one of his favourite dudes on Instagram. Ched Uzor!

He was a massive dude in every sense. Incredibly tall and insanely muscular with dashing good looks that made the smaller man swoon every time. Along with almost any gay man for that matter. He was gorgeous! So much so that Nat couldn’t help but pull up the man’s profile and start scrolling through all his posts again like he had many times before. He could never get enough of drinking that man in.

As it turned out Ched was an online coach that took on clients to help with training and getting into shape so naturally this meant he posted tons of pictures and videos dedicated to showing off his physique. Plentiful amounts of shirtless pics in the mirror to show off his god-like body for all to see. There were even a few where he stood in nothing but a towel or a tight pair of shorts that left little to the imagination. Those posts always drove Nat and many others crazy. Getting to see those chiselled abs and incredible pecs was always a treat. Not to mention those colossal arms of his that needed no introduction. Apparently he considered them his best feature and for good reason. Just one of Ched’s gigantic biceps looked to be the same size as one of Nat’s legs!

He continued to search through the bank of juicy content with a growing tent in his jeans. There were of course many workout videos to go with all the pics he put up which was just the icing on the cake. Getting to see Ched working those impressive muscles of his in an effort to pump them even bigger than they already were. He really couldn’t be more of a beast! Though his British English accent was something that frequently threw Nat off. He hadn’t expected it when he first heard Ched’s voice but he certainly didn’t hate it. He found it being quite the turn on actually!

Eventually he’d begun to lose himself a bit. Soon finding himself gulping the rest of his drink down so he could focus on rubbing his arousal over his jeans while gawking at this man’s amazing body. “Fuck… I wish I could be just like him.” Nat muttered to himself. He was just about ready to unzip and whip his dick out when suddenly a strange pop up filled his screen. It said:

- Our service has deemed you eligible for an identity transfer. From what we can gather, you wish to become like the user of this account “Ched Uzor”. Would you like us to proceed in making that possible for you? -

Beneath the message was a green accept button and a red deny button. Naturally Nat’s first instinct was to deny with strange pop ups like this but as his finger hovered over the red option, he hesitated. He had no idea why but for some reason, something deep down was telling him to accept. The logical part of his mind was telling him it was most likely a scam or a virus or some kind but at the same time something else was tugging at him. Telling him that it was real and to just trust it… so he pressed accept. After which there was a slight nervousness building in his chest as a new pop up emerged that simply read:

- Confirmation Received. Preparing Physical Transfer… Gathering Information… -

Seeing this Nat began to panic slightly. What was he thinking accepting this random link!? It was probably taking all the personal info off his phone right now! Next thing he knows he’s gonna have an emptied out bank account and most of his emails compromised! Though just as the fear began to set in, the screen changed once again.

- Preparation Complete! Beginning Physical Transfer… 0% -

Physical transfer? What the hell did that mean? Well Nat was soon about to find out. He tapped away at his phone a little, trying to back out from whatever this was but nothing was working. Even pressing the home button or holding down the power button did nothing as the percentage metre slowly began to tick up.

His eyes widened in disbelief when he noticed the pale skin on his hands beginning to darken. At first he thought he was seeing things but he couldn’t deny it when they started expanding too! Growing larger and meatier while also gaining a more weathered look you’d see on guys who did plenty of physical labour or spent lots of time in the gym. Before long his enlarged hands had turned a deep ebony in colour and that darker hue was quickly starting to spread across his light skin. He tossed his phone onto the couch in panic as he could do nothing but watch this bizarre transformation progress…

- Physical Transfer… 5% -

Next up were his forearms. His skin didn’t waste any time in converting from his usual pale white to a much darker tone. His biceps and shoulders soon followed the same example until both of Nat’s arms looked as though they belonged to a black man! He barely had time to process this though as moments after he felt a warm tingle flow up and down his arms for a second until suddenly they began expanding with muscle!

It began once again with his forearms pumping up rather aggressively with his biceps and triceps quickly following suit as they grew to seemingly no end. It wasn’t long before he’d not only filled out the sleeves of his shirt but the fabric was beginning to dig into his biceps until a faint ripping sound could be heard. That sound only got louder as his shoulders started to bulge, growing into huge boulders of muscle.

He looked… ridiculous! His arms were huge, bulky and a completely different colour to the rest of his small white body. Thankfully it wouldn’t stop there though. As soon as his arms finally reached their full enormous size, the transformation began to spread further.

- Physical Transfer… 25% -

Saying Nat was bewildered would be an understatement. He took a second to marvel at his arms by moving and flexing them a little as he stood up from the couch. The sleeves on his t-shirt were torn in multiple places and only continued to tear as he checked out his new guns. They were gigantic to say the least. He’d go as far as to say his arms were now bigger than a lot of the jock dudes he’d seen at the local gym. Though, as incredible as they were, they probably looked rather silly and out of place on his much smaller pale body.

Just then however, as if on cue, there was another warm tingle that darted around his torso. Of course Nat had been far too focused on the new size of his arms to notice that the skin beneath his shirt had continued changing. It started with small splotches of colour appearing across his chest, stomach, back and traps. At first making his skin appear tanned in those spots but as the patches spread and connected to one another, the tone deepened even further until it matched the same rich ebony skin colour his arms now proudly adorned.

- Physical transfer… 40% -

After what had just happened down with his now hulking arms, Nat already had a good idea of what to expect next when the warm tingle across his torso subsided. He stared down at himself, breath hitching slightly as he waited. And then he felt it. A strange pulsing sensation flooding through his upper body and then…

“UUROOUGGHH!…” Nat bellowed as his chest suddenly heaved forwards, his once unimpressive pecs eagerly starting to take shape. What was previously a relatively flat chest ballooned out into a juicy pair of meaty muscle tits that strained desperately against the front of his shirt. At the same time he found his torso growing thicker and wider in unison with his pecs. His back broadened more by the second until a massive rip tore across the spine of his shirt as he hulked out of it. It simply wasn’t able to contain so much man.

Nat’s eyes began to flicker and roll with all the intense feelings rushing through him right now. The changes were so overwhelming but at the same time… he didn’t want it to stop. Even smiling a little as he felt his traps start to bulge and his neck thicken slightly to compensate. But it didn’t end there. Even as all this new muscle was growing, his height had been increasing a little as well. His torso had grown significantly longer as his former 5’7 statue extended up to 5’11. It couldn’t be more obvious as his shirt rode up enough to give the world a view of his new thick dark abs.

That said he still looked quite ridiculous. He had the arms and torso of a bulky black man with the head and lower body of an average white dude. Not for much longer though.

- Physical Transfer… 65% -

The changes seemed slowed down towards his neck for time being but they didn’t stop their march downwards to the lower half of his body. Naturally the first things to be swallowed by the darkening skin were his groin and his backside. Then as the tingling began to swarm those two regions, it was near impossible for Nat to hide the huge grin forming on his face. By this point he was fully embracing the insane transformation and only wanted more! He didn’t know how it was possible but it just felt so damn good! All he could think about now was the rest of his body getting huge and how amazing it was going to feel!

The back of his jeans started to grow tighter by the second as his ass expanded aggressively, plumping itself up with more and more muscle. Before long his jeans were forced to really stretch themselves over two thick globes that put his former ass to shame. But it didn’t stop at the heavy black jock butt. If anything Nat’s attention was much more focused on his crotch as he rubbed a large hand over it. He could already feel the next change setting in fast.

His hard and already black cock started to bulge obscenely in his pants as it pumped itself bigger and fatter. Gaining not only length as it bucked and pulsed but some delicious girth as well that would stretch any hole to its limit. He almost couldn’t believe he didn’t cum on the spot as the mushroom tip grew thicker and rounder inside the confines of his jeans. He’d managed to stifle his moans for the most part up until that point but he couldn’t help letting out a long groan when his balls suddenly bloated to a huge and heavy size without warning. A glob of precum stained the inside of his pants as his nuts swelled with jock seed.

- Physical Transfer… 75% -

As was expected by this point, the ebony colour spread down across Nat’s legs causing his thighs and calves to darken multiple shades in tone. The change crept lower before finishing with his feet as they endured the same fate. He pulled up one of his pants legs slightly to confirm this was the case and he couldn’t help but get excited upon seeing the dark skin, knowing what was to come. His entire body from the neck down was black!

Moments later that now familiar pulsing sensation travelled up and down his legs. What followed was the sound of his jeans ripping at seams as his legs started to pack on years worth of hard earned muscle in a matter of minutes. His thighs thickened to watermelon crushing levels of size and power while his calves slowly but surely began to grow to the size of sturdy footballs. During which all Nat could hear was the sound of his legs tearing his jeans apart. But once again it didn’t stop there. Along with all the muscle, his legs began stretching longer as well. It wasn’t long before his already increased height of 5’11 went well past 6 foot and all the way up to 6’4! By that point his muscle had finished expanding leaving him with a set of huge meaty legs and jeans that were clinging on for dear life. They were in complete tatters like his shirt. The button on the front had popped off and his ankles were exposed thanks to the jeans now riding up his legs!

He only got a few seconds to rest however as the next little transformation wasn’t waiting right around the corner. The only warning he got was a pleasant buzzing sensation flowing through his feet before suddenly they began exploding with size. They grew at such a rapid rate that within moments they completely burst out of his shoes. With a grin Nat gave his new black size 14 feet a wriggle, loving the feel of how big they were.

- Physical Transfer… 90% -

Now there was only one part left to go and Nat was ready to embrace it. He closed his eyes with a smile as the darkening skin resumed its spread up over his neck and towards his head. It took a little longer than the rest of the body but before long there wasn’t a trace left of Nat’s once pale skin left. Every inch of him was now a rich dark tone. But with the skin done, it was time for the rest of his features to catch up!

A warm wave of tingly pleasure washed over his head as the final changes began. It started with the lump in his throat shifting slightly and readjusting to give him a slightly deeper and more intimidating voice but also one that could be sensual and charming. The main event however was the face itself. Facial features began moving, growing, shrinking, sharpening and softening in all the right places until there was almost no resemblance to the original Nat left. His jaw was stronger, his lips were fuller and his nose was broader. The only thing left was his hair but even that quickly began to recede from the shaggy mop it had once been into something much shorter. Forming into tight neat curls that were distinctly black. And to top it all off a short bristly beard sprouted across his face to match, making his visage all that much more handsome.

- Physical Transfer… 100%… Complete! Physical Identity of “Ched Uzor” assumed! -

Bringing his hands up to his face, Nat couldn’t believe what he was feeling. Everything about it felt different to the spacing between his eyes to the size of his features to the feeling of his hair. It was insane but at the same time extremely erotic for some reason. He had to see what he looked like.

He was in luck as he’d recently put up a new mirror in his bedroom of which he soon found himself stumbling towards, not used to his new weight and centre of gravity. Though despite having just gone through the whole transformation, nothing could’ve prepared him for what he saw. Staring back at him was a black muscular hunk! But not just any hunk… it was Ched Uzor! *He* was Ched Uzor! The same man he’d been drooling over online for years!

Of course Nat was far too distracted to notice but across the room on his bed, the message on his phone changed as it began to initiate the next phase…

- Preparing Mental Transfer… Gathering Information… -

Being blissfully unaware of this second transfer, Nat immediately began exploring himself with glee. He never imagined he’d get to experience what it felt like to have a body like this. Not only powerful and muscular but extremely tall as well. Before he'd always felt like the short dude in a crowd but now that he was 6’4 things are gonna be very different. Even now he couldn’t help but notice how much smaller everything seemed. How the floor looked so much further away and how things like his bed, desk and closet seemed so tiny now. It was crazy to wrap his head around but he could certainly get used to it.

- Preparation Complete! Beginning Mental Transfer… 0% -

Nat couldn’t help but love how his former clothes were now in tatters as they struggled to contain his new godly form. Despite that, he had to get a proper look. And so he gripped his torn t-shirt and with one swift motion, ripped it off his torso with ease. Tossing the fabric to one side, Nat took the opportunity to marvel at his incredible upper body. Starting by giving his juicy new pecs a generous squeeze before pinching at his dark nipples. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how many guys he’d get to fuck with a body like this. He was gonna have dudes practically falling to their knees before him.

“Mmm I wonder if I can bounce my pecs like this…” Nat mumbled to himself, loving the new English accent to his voice. He struggled at first, flexing the muscle on his chest awkwardly, but then something just hit him. Suddenly he started popping his pecs like a pro. No wonder because he’s been able to bounce them like that for years now!

- Mental Transfer… 10% -

Once he’d had his fun with his pecs, Nat made sure to give his abs a bit of attention as well, running his hands across the hard ridges with a bite of his lip before moving onto his arms. Sure he’d given them a good flex earlier but now he had the rest of the body to back them up. To say they were unreal wouldn’t do them enough justice. They were so massive and juicy that merely moving his huge arms gave him a power rush, never mind flexing them for the mirror. Getting to feel the pure strength behind all that raw muscle was intoxicating.

“Ughhh yeah!… I’m so huge!” He moaned as his enlarged cock strained against his underwear. He was getting drunk on the sensation of how huge his arms were. No wonder he considered them his best feature. He’d always had big arms so when he started training them properly they just exploded with size! Now he and everyone he met couldn’t seem to get enough of them.

- Mental Transfer… 25% -

He just had to see his body in its full glory. Not wasting any more time Chat gripped his jeans and just like with his shirt he ripped them off before tossing the remains to the side. Now all he had covering himself was an extremely tight pair of underwear that had the tip of his excited cock peeking out one of the leg holes. Overall he was pretty surprised that his underwear seemed intact. Or so he thought anyway.

After giving a quick twirl in the mirror, he was fast to notice a huge rip down the back that gave a perfect window view of his large muscle ass. Seeing this Chat couldn’t help but laugh before giving his big butt a hefty slap, enjoying the way it recoiled slightly. “Yeahhh boy! That’s what I’m talkin about!” He smirked as he took pride in the powerful glutes he’d crafted over the years, just as impressive as the rest of his body.

But of course he couldn’t ignore the main course for long. That new cock of his was begging for attention and Chat was willing enough to oblige. He turned back around to face the mirror once more before ripping off his underwear and allowing his fat new dick to spring free at last. Finally he was able to get a good look at his body in its entirety. “Thank fuck I decided to drop college so I could work on my body.” He stated proudly while turning to look at himself from every possible angle

- Mental Transfer… 50% -

Chat was completely oblivious to what was happening to his mind. With every second that passed his personal reality was being warped around him. He was starting to believe that this was all normal while his former identity was slowly being pushed out of his head to be replaced by a new one. His intelligence dropped a fair margin in the process from the IQ of an intelligent young man to the level of a blissful jock. Not dumb per say but not as bright as he once was either.

Despite everything he still found himself insanely turned on by his reflection even if the reasoning for it was becoming blurrier and blurrier with every passing moment. He gripped his thick black member with a dumb grin, loving how it filled his large hand before pumping it slowly. For some reason it felt way more sensitive than usual. Generally his cock was quite active but this was something different. It almost felt like it was begging him to cum. But he had to savour it just a tad bit longer. It felt far too amazing to rush.

He managed to keep a smooth rhythm with his stroking as he continued to explore his buff body for some obscure reason. As he did, a lot of his former smarts were replaced with a bunch of gym, workout and healthy eating knowledge. All of which was necessary to maintain a huge physique like his. He was definitely gonna need it. After all how else was he gonna be an online coach if he didn’t know all the tips, tricks and secrets to getting swole as fuck!

- Mental Transfer… 80% -

As his free hand wandered around the muscular crevices of his body, it eventually found its way to his back side. At first he was simply grabbing and kneading his cheeks which he didn’t think too much of at first. Just enjoying the feeling until he tried to slip a finger towards his hole. The moment said finger grazed that tight puckered hole however, his eyes snapped open. “The fuck am I doing!?” He questioned out loud as he drew his hand away from his ass. He wasn’t sure why the hell he’d been doing that. After all he’d never been into ass stuff before. Not to mention his asshole is clamped shut anyway. No way anything was getting up there anytime soon. Instead he just tried to shake off the weird experience and focus on jerking off instead.

“Fuuuuck bro! Why am I so horny today!?” Chet moaned as his cock began spluttering pre-cum relentlessly, getting his hand wet and sticky. “I need a hookup or something. Haven’t been with a girl in weeks…” he droned off mindlessly, not even realising the problem with what he’d just said. Yet despite everything it was still his thick muscular body that was the main attraction of his sexual desire right now.

- Mental Transfer… 90% -

Chet began stroking faster as he bounced his pecs again in the mirror, his own body seeming so hypnotising for some reason. It baffled him as he’d never felt this way about himself before but he didn’t bother questioning it. How could he when he could already feel his fat bull balls starting to churn. They were getting ready to shoot while his cock grew more and more sensitive by the second. All of his senses were being overloaded as a thick haze settled over his mind. And soon enough that pleasure began to peak…

Chet couldn’t stop himself from flexing almost every muscle in his body involuntarily as his balls squeezed, sending a fat load up towards his cock until… “FUUUUUUuuuuuccckkkkk…” Chet moaned heartily as his massive dick shot rope after rope of hot thick jock nut all over the mirror like an erupting volcano. Shooting more cum than he ever had in his life while giving the reflective glass a sticky coating of delicious man milk.

- Mental Transfer… 98%… Error Error… -

The pop up screen on his phone began to flash with a warning as the meter seemed to get stuck on 98%.. The Error message continued to flash for a few seconds before the screen changed again, jumping directly to a new screen without having shown the 100% at all.

- Congratulations! You have assumed the Mental and Physical identity of “Ched Uzor”! It would seem our work here is complete! Enjoy the rest of your day. -

The strange pop up claimed proudly before disappearing without a trace. The phone returned to Ched’s Instagram, only now it seemed to be logged in as the user of the account.

Back over at the mirror Ched grabbed his head in confusion. That was one of the biggest nuts of his life so he couldn’t figure out for the life of him why he’d done it to his own reflection instead of to a hot babe like usual. But even more importantly where the hell was he? This definitely wasn’t his house and those ripped clothes on the floor certainly didn’t belong to him. He closed his eyes and racked his brain for a moment, trying to figure everything out until it finally hit him. He was on vacation to America right now and he’d hired this dude to look after his place back in the UK. The dude’s name was Nat if he remembered correctly. He took a breather as things finally started to fall into place.

And so, with his cock turning flaccid once again, Ched grabbed some tissues and started to clean up the huge mess he’d made. After all, the people he was renting this place from wouldn’t be happy if he left their mirror with a huge cumstain on it. Once that was done he’d better find himself some clothes to put on so he can enjoy the rest of his evening and take plenty of pics for his Instagram. He knew how thirsty some of his followers were and they were always eager to get another glimpse at his incredible body. Not that he could blame them.

———

- 4 Months Later -

Ched had long since returned home to the UK. That Nat guy had done a good job looking after his house while he was gone, the place looked spotless! Though he could swear there was something eerily familiar about Nat that he just couldn’t place. He couldn’t really put it into words. It was almost like nagging in the back of your mind when you’ve forgotten something but can’t remember what. Regardless he thanked the smaller man before giving him the second half of his payment and sending him on his way.

Since then things had been normal for the most part. Making inspirational posts on Instagram about exercising and getting into shape as well as just having an excuse to show off a bit. Naturally he spent plenty of time in the gym as always and was hard at work coaching his online clients as a personal trainer. But there were a couple weird things he’d noticed recently…

For example he still hadn’t gotten over this weird fascination with his own body he’d developed lately. Every time he looked at his reflection he found his cock chubbing up for some reason and he had no idea why. Plus the amount of times he would end up groping his own muscles while jerking off. He’d never done that before but now he couldn’t help it. But don’t get him wrong though, Ched isn’t gay. He’s been hooking up with plenty of women as of late and had no problem getting it up when they pull their tits out for him. If anything he’d say he’s been fucking more pussy recently than usual. Getting into bed with hot chicks left and right to fuck their bimbo brains out… but that could be partially due to him compensating for another new desire.

You see along with his self infatuation, over these past few months Ched had also caught himself glancing at other men. Not just in an admiring kind of way either. Like he was properly eyeing them up. His gaze was constantly being drawn to their asses and bulges. It was madness! He’d never been into dudes before so why were these feelings suddenly surfacing now!?

Recently there’d been this new guy at the gym that’d he’d been speaking to. Brandon was his name. Massive dude, about the same size as Ched himself. And just like with many other guys, Ched hadn’t been able to stop himself from checking out Brandon’s huge body. Only difference being that he could swear he caught Brandon checking him out as well…

Surely he couldn’t be gay because he did genuinely love women as well. So maybe he was Bi? If that was the case, how he managed to go all these years and not realise until now was beyond him. Well perhaps if this Brandon dude really was interested he could give it a go and ask him out or hook up maybe?… see what happens?

Little did Ched know that this was actually due to the error during his Mental Transfer. It seemed a tiny percentage of Nat remained inside him and vice versa for the new Nat as well. It was that tiny part of himself that was obsessed with his body and the part that still had an interest in men. But of course he’d never know that because as far he knows, Nat is just the guy that looked after his house for a couple weeks. He of course was the hunky Instagram model and online coach Ched Uzor! Only now he was a little gayer than before. And you know what? He was okay with that.

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