#tf by object

[masterwolftfs]

THE ATTIC CLEAR OUT: THE VIDEO CAMERA

The camera was listed as "Professional Vlogging Setup - Free. Barely Used." @bstumbelerr wasn't even looking for one. But when he saw the photo, a sleek black DSLR with a flip-out screen, and a shotgun mic perched on top, something in his brain itched. The description was vague too, "Got it as a gift, never got into filming. Sat in the attic for years, want rid."

It was definitely sketchy, a free professional quality setup easy worth multiple hundreds of dollars? But he figured what the hell, isn't like they can do much other than scam email him after all, so he typed out a message to the owner, and soon arranged a time to go collect it.

The guy lived a few towns over, a place where the streetlights flickered and everything seemed rough and dodgy. His apartment smelled like incense and old electronics. He didn't say much, just handed him the camera, allowing his fingers to brush against his hand for just a second too long. "You'll like it." He said matter-of-factly. Not 'Hope you enjoy it.' Not 'Good luck.'

"You'll like it."

Like he already knew.

He should've asked questions, but the camera felt right in his hands. Heavy, and important. He thanked the old owner and left.

That night, he set it up on his dresser, pointing at his bed. The red recording light glowed like an eye. He hit record, cleared his throat. "Uh... hey. So. Um... I guess I'm trying this whole vlogging thing?" His voice sounded different - deeper, smoother. His reflection in the flip-out screen looked... better. Sharper jaw. Brighter eyes.

He kept talking. About nothing. About his day, and how stupid it felt to film himself. But the more he spoke, the easier it got to keep going. And the weirder it got.

Because every time he glanced at that little red light, steadily staring at him, a rush of warmth spread through his chest. He felt proud, as if the camera was praising him. Like it wanted him to keep going.

He filmed again the next day, and the next. Soon it was just another part of his daily routine. At first, it was just dumb little updates - what he ate, what he watched, how work sucked and he hated his job as an office worker. But the more he recorded, the more he craved it. The thrill of the camera, the call of video. He wanted to do more. Maybe he should get into streaming, he absentmindedly thought. It was like the camera did something to him. When it was on, his alouch disappeared, his voice dropped, his jokes landed smoother. He started dressing better, standing taller. Smirking at his own reflection in the lens like he was some kind of star. And the best part? It felt natural. Like he'd always been this person. Like it was second nature. The camera was just reminding him of that.

Then came the night he forgot to stop recording. He left the camera running as he got ready for bed, stripping off his shirt, his pants, stretching. The camera, of course, dutifully captured every detail. His hairless chest, his weak skinny frame, his weak stature.

When he played it back the next day to review, his breath caught. Because the guy on screen wasn't him. At least, not quite. He moved differently. More fluid, more aware of the lens. And when he turned towards it, giving a cheeky flex and wink to it, his 'on-screen smile' was wider than he remembered. Hungrier. This was a man who knew he was hot, who felt like a god among men. They looked the same, but that confidence made him look so goddamn sexy. He should've been creeped out, but he felt thrilled, excited.

And that was scarier than anything he saw on the screen.

For the first time, he saw what the camera saw. And by god, it was better than the real thing in every way.

The next day, the camera's red light blinked at him like a challenge. "Go live." It seemed to whisper. "Let everyone see you." He swallowed hard, fingers hovering over the keyboard. He'd never streamed before, only even thought about it that one time as a joke. But that undeniable itch under his skin wouldn't go away - the same restless energy that had been endlessly building since he first hit record.

He clicked "Start Streaming".

"Yo! What's up chat?" His voice came out smoother than before, smoother even than on the recordings. It was as if the mic was tuning him to something better. But no-one was watching. YET.

Two hours in, his muscles ached, but not from gaming. It was a good ache, like he'd been working out for hours. His shoulders felt stronger, bulkier, and his grip on the controller was tighter. When he flexed his fingers and biceps between rounds subconsciously, they moved with a new kind of strength and precision.

He caught his reflection in the monitor. His hair was messier, but in that 'just-right' way that streamers always had. His eyes were brighter, green where they were once blue, locked onto the screen with an intensity he didn't recognise. And when he laughed at his own dumb jokes, it didn't feel forced lile usual. It felt... natural? Yeah, natural. Second nature.

Like he was finally becoming who he was always meant to be.

Like he was just reverting to his true form.

Around half-an-hour later, a new username popped up in chat.

xXGameMasterXx: yo u funny kek

His chest swelled. "Thanks, dude!" He grinned, leaning closer to the camera. "Stick around, I'm just gettin' started." The words spilled out without any thought. No hesitation, no second-guessing. Because the camera liked when he talked.

And so did he.

The next night, he streamed again. And again the next, every day for a week straight. Each stream, new followers, each day, new confidence. The more he did it, the better he felt. The more right he felt. He found himself responding faster to the games he played, his reflexes improving, becoming more honed. His aim imprived, headshits got easier to hit, his thumbs moving faster than he could think on the joysticks and buttons. Hus voice slowly over the days dropped into an even smoother, buttery, playful rhythm, like he'd been doing this for years.

Had he?

He finished up the stream for the day, smiling proudly at his 30 follower count, and shuffled to the living room of his apartment. His roomate frowned at him. "Are you... working out?" He smirked around a mouth of food, "Nah. Just good genes I guess." The lie came easy. He supposed, it wasn't really a lie. He was changing, just not in the way hus roomate thought. His body was indeed bulkier, his arms filled out and toned from hours of animated gesturing. His posture was improved by his newly formed back muscles, supporting him comfortably even when slouched in a gaming chair all day. Even his face looked better, sexier, more rugged. The camera was sculpting him into something more watchable, more entertaining, or maybe he was, he didn't know. But he still loved it.

By the end of the next week, he had finally hit a milestone. 102 followers. The screen proudly displayed, as if praising him. They laughed at his jokes, cheered when he pulled off stupid plays. Validated him, encouraged him. Loved him. And the more they watched, the better he got. His reactions became louder, even more exaggerated. His gaming skills sharpened to near-pro level, and soon he was switching from boring games to something more fun and challenging, competitive queues and high elos that only a gamer of his mastery could achieve. His face in the preview looked like a real streamer's - confident, cocky, alive. He started thinking about clips, and about content, near constantly.

"This'll make a good moment. Better ask chat to clip it."

"Chat's gonna fucking love this."

"I should say that again, but funnier."

The camera's red watchful gaze pulsed approvingly.

Then, mid-way through a 36-hour subathon stream, it happened. He leaned back in his chair, stretching, and his shirt rode up - just enough to reveal a sliver of his stomach. Chat. Exploded.

xXGameMasterXx: DAMN bro u been liftin?

LunaLuvr99: wait fuk ur jacked lol

ValoXander: DADDY SORRY DADDY SORRY DADDY

He blinked at the comments, then down at himself. His abs weren't ripped by any means, but they were there - defined in a way that only someone who hits the gym regularly and knows what they're doing can achieve. He curiously lifted his shirt more, revealing them, and flexed an arm experimentally, and chat lost their minds.

The camera's light seemed to burn brighter.

And for the first time, he understood.

This wasn't just confidence.

This wasn't just skill.

This was something else.

And it was only just beginning.

Mere seconds after the subathon stream finally ended (it ended up running for nearly 70 hours after that flexing incident, way over the expected 36 hour runtime he'd planned for) the email hit his inbox like a lightning bolt.

"Hey Kyle! Love your content! Wanna collab?"

He stared at the name on the email, not one he recognised. Kyle? But his fingers typed back instantly "Hell yeah dude! DM me the deets." It felt right. Like he'd always been Kyle. Right? It was almost like the quiet, awkward office worker who bought the camera weeks ago never existed. Almost, but not quite.

He woke the next morning after having a weird dream. It was a dream of his past, his childhood, but not the one he lived. A better one. In the dream, he'd grown up with a controller in his hands, remembered his first viral clip at sixteen. Remembered the years of grinding, building an audience, trying slowly but surely and succeeding at becoming someone. He remembered his name, the one his mother had given him, and his username that he'd given himself to make it online, the one chat screamed in joy and aodration.

Kyle.

TheJocKyGamer.

And when he looked in the mirror that's who looked back. Rugged jaw, bright eyes, sexy shit-eating grin that cane far too easy. The body of a man who'd spent years performing, posing, knowing exactly how good he looked on camera.

Because he had.

He always had.

As always was the case by now, he went live like it was second nature. "Yo chat! Guess who's back?" He leaned into the camera, winking, rolling his shoulders. His tank top clung to his chest, tight - far too tight - but he loved it that way. Chat loved it that way. The comments flooded in.

xXGameMasterXx: Yo my bro! Sup?

LunaLuvr99: Unfair how hot u r kek

He laughed, flexing just so he could watch them lose it. "What can I say, Gaming while lookin this good is a full body workout." He chuckled dumbly, the words slipping out with ease. He sounded good, deeper, smoother. Dumber.

He winked at the camera after a particularly good round of Valorant, where he'd aced with insane skill. "Bet you'd all love for me carry ya in ranked, huh chat?" The heart emojis poured in, the cries and chants of "POGGERS", "NICE ACE", "DADDY" all poured in. He ate it up, because this was him.

The real him.

The only him.

New follower! His stream alerts popped up.

AnnonymousUser332: I see that camera did some good eh?

Kyle was confused. "Yeah bro! Course it does, it captures my perfect bod! Bet you'd love to take it's place seein this every day!" He flexed, ripping off his shirt, causing chat to erupt into absolute fucking chaos.

But for a second, he remembered. His old self, the ad, the camera changing him.

The red light pulsed.

The thought pulsed with it.

The red light flickered.

The thought dissipated.

"Well chat, you want more of this? More shirtless streams of me, your god? Better make sure to smash that follow and subscribe button, and send me some donations while you're at it. God knows this body deserves that cash!" He laughed, loudly and dumbly, watching as instantly he got 40 new subs, and countless emails of his paypal filling up with donations from stream.

The camera's light flickered one last time, causing Kyle to moan in pleasure slightly, before settling down, no longer watching. But Kyle wasn't worried. He didn't need it anymore. He didn't need the light.

Because he was the god of his stream, and his show would never end.

[fafnir19]

Cloak of Night, Heart in Fight

Liam stood his ground, his scrawny frame tense with reluctance. "I'm not going to some party with a bunch of obnoxious frat guys. And I don't have a costume anyway." He knew his argument was weak, but he had hoped it would be enough to deter Karen. Karen, her green eyes sparkling with excitement, shot back, "My sister Sandy has a whole collection of costumes, enough to outfit an army of partygoers. And her parties are legendary! Come on, it'll be fun." Her voice carried a hint of pleading, and Liam could sense her desire to break free from their usual routine. With a heavy sigh, he relented, knowing he couldn't resist her enthusiasm forever. "Fine, but I'm not dressing up as some ridiculous superhero or muscle-bound warrior."

Liam stood before Sandy's extensive costume collection, feeling a sense of dread as he donned a hobbit costume.

It was a simple outfit, complete with a brown robe and oversized hairy feet, but it did little to hide his lanky frame and nervous demeanor. "I don't know, Sandy. I've never been big on dressing up," he mumbled, adjusting the fake hairy feet. "Maybe I should just skip the party." Sandy, a bubbly contrast to Liam's anxiety, rolled her eyes. "That's the point, Liam! You haven't even tried. Hobbit is just you, all cute and shy. Now, imagine something completely different. What's the opposite of Liam?" "Well, I'm not exactly the life of the party," Liam admitted, his voice trailing off. "I'm not... handsome or charming, and I definitely can't seduce anyone." Sandy burst into laughter, silencing him with a wave of her hand. "Alright, I get it! You need something dramatic. How about a vampire?" She reached into the rack and pulled out a sleek black cloak with a dramatic purple lining. Liam took the cloak, his fingers brushing the soft fabric. As he slipped it over his jeans and t-shirt, a tingling sensation coursed through his body. He glanced in the mirror, his eyes widening at the reflection. The nerdy, bespectacled Liam was gone, replaced by a tall, handsome young man with intense eyes and a jawline that could cut glass. His body had transformed, revealing lean muscles and a confident stance.

"What... what's happening?" Liam's voice cracked, his hand reaching up to touch his new face. Sandy's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Some of my costumes have a little magic, Liam. You'll be this dashing vampire until midnight. But beware—if the costume gets wet, the spell won't wear off." "Wet? But—" Liam's concern grew. "What if someone spills a drink on me? Will I be stuck like this?" "Relax," Sandy reassured him. “You’d have to be completely soaked for at least five minutes. Just avoid the pool, and you’ll be fine!” She winked. “Yeah, right,” he muttered, still processing the transformation. But as the party started, he felt a rush of excitement.

The music thumped through the walls of Sandy's house, a pulsing beat that drew a crowd of students, laughter spilling out into the cool Halloween night. Liam stood in the corner, his vampire cloak swirling around him, still adjusting to the feeling of being…different. “Hey, Liam!” Karen called out, her green eyes sparkling with excitement as she pushed through the throng of partygoers.

She stepped up to him, “You really got out of your shell!” Liam shrugged, a grin creeping onto his face. “Yeah, I guess it’s alright,” he replied, his voice almost drowned out by the music. He glanced around, feeling the new confidence surging through him. “But I’m not sure this is me, you know?” “Why not? You look amazing!” Karen took his hands, squeezing them, her excitement palpable. Liam turned to her, a playful smirk on his face. “Thanks! I guess this whole vampire thing suits me,” he said, his voice smooth and confident, the words flowing effortlessly. He hadn’t realized how easy it was to talk to people now. “I mean, who wouldn’t want to be a heartthrob like this?” He flashed a charming smile, one he’d never dared use before. Karen’s smile faltered for a moment. “Just don’t forget who you really are,” she said, concern lacing her tone. “You’ve changed, and I don’t want you to lose yourself in all this.” “Changed? Come on, Karen,” Liam laughed, a sound that drew attention. “This is who I was meant to be! I feel…alive!” He gave her a wink, reveling in the way her cheeks flushed. But Karen frowned, her brows knitting together. “Liam, you’re not being yourself. You’re acting different.” “Different? Maybe I like it,” he said, his tone sharper than intended. “What’s wrong with wanting to enjoy life?” “Enjoying life shouldn’t mean forgetting who you are,” she pressed, her voice rising slightly. “You’re scaring me. I don’t even recognize you anymore.” “Maybe you just don’t like who I’ve become,” he shot back, irritation bubbling beneath his charming exterior. He could feel the pulse of the music in his veins, urging him to let loose. “Liam…” she started, but he waved her off, turning back to the crowd.

He felt a rush of adrenaline as he began chatting with a group of girls nearby, their laughter ringing out like music. Karen stood frozen, watching him with a mix of pride and worry. As Liam chatted animatedly, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was losing him. The life of the party, he was charming everyone effortlessly, and she felt like a ghost in her own boyfriend’s life.

She hadn’t meant to start a fight; she just wanted to keep him grounded. After a moment, she took a deep breath and decided to find him. “Liam!” she called, weaving through the throngs of partygoers. “Liam, where are you?” Navigating through the sea of costumed guests, she finally located him in the bathroom, an unusual place to find someone at a party. Liam stood in the bathtub, the shower cascading water around him, his black vampire cloak clinging to his, now chiseled and handsome, body.

“How long have you been wet?” she exclaimed, her voice rising in panic. “Hurry up to dry yourself up, otherwise you’ll stay like that for good!” Liam chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eye. “It’s too late already. I’ll stay this way, whether you like it or not!” Karen's heart sank. "But...but you're still Liam. Underneath all this, you're the same person. I...I love you, and it doesn't matter what you look like." Liam stepped out of the shower, the water instantly ceasing as if by magic. He stood tall, his body dry and handsome.

"I am, and I'm not. I've always been more than just a bookish guy, Karen. This costume just helped me unlock my true self." Karen's eyes filled with tears. "I know, and I wanted you to be more confident. But I didn't mean for you to become someone else. Please, don't let this change who you are inside." Liam's expression softened, and he pulled Karen into an embrace. "I won't. I love you, Karen, and I always will. This is just an upgrade, a chance to live life to the fullest." He kissed her gently, his lips warm against hers. Karen's worries momentarily faded as she kissed him back, her heart fluttering.

Just then, a group of frat guys stormed the dance floor, each wearing a black cloak similar to Liam's.

Karen's face twisted in disgust. "Ugh, look at these guys. Why does Sandy even invite them?" Liam snorted, his newfound charm on full display. "Yeah, they're a bunch of peacocks. Who do they think they are, strutting around like they own the place?"

One of the frat guys, his voice booming, announced, ""Hey, man! Loving the cloak. Check out our new recruit, Liam! He's one of us now!"

Liam, taken aback, tried to protest, but his words faltered. "I... I mean, I..." The frat guy slapped him on the back, nearly knocking him off balance. "No need to be shy, bro! We're here to have a good time. And with your new look, the ladies will be all over you!" Liam hesitated, his eyes darting between Karen and the frat brother. "I... uh... I'm not sure about that, bro." The frat guy slapped him on the back. "Come on, man! Let's find you some hot chicks. You can't stay with that nerdy owl forever!" Liam's resistance crumbled as he found himself drawn to their infectious energy. "I... I guess I could use a change." Karen's eyes widened in disbelief. "Liam, no! You can't be serious!" But it was too late. Liam, caught up in the moment, laughed along with the frat guys. "Maybe I'll find a hot nurse. You know, the dumb ones are good for a bit of fun!" Karen's heart sank as she watched her boyfriend disappear into the crowd, surrounded by the very people she despised.

She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to see her sister Sandy, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Looks like your boyfriend's found a new crowd," Sandy said, her tone laced with amusement. Karen's voice quivered with emotion. "Sandy, this is all your doing! He's become one of them, a brainless frat boy, and he dumped me!" Sandy's laughter echoed through the room, drawing attention. "Oh, Karen, he's still the same intelligent Liam, just with a new, improved look. Can't blame him for wanting to explore his options now that he's a heartthrob." Karen's face flushed with anger. " Improved? He's insufferable! I want my Liam back! The one who cared about me and wasn't a superficial jerk!" Sandy's expression turned serious. "Well, I couldn't stand the old Liam, always moping around. But this new version? He's a catch! Too bad he's out of your league now." Sandy winked, her tone playful yet cruel. "Maybe I'll try my luck with him." Karen's eyes narrowed. "He's not out of my league. I'll get him back, you'll see." Determined, she marched over to the costume rack, her mind racing. She needed to find a way to remind Liam of who he truly was, and perhaps, just perhaps, he would come back to her. Her fingers grazed over the costumes, and she pulled out a nurse's uniform, complete with a short skirt and low-cut top. It was a far cry from her usual attire, but desperate times called for desperate measures. As she slipped into the costume, a strange sensation washed over her. The transformation was more than physical; she felt her mind cloud, her thoughts becoming simpler, more basic. Karen's eyes widened in the mirror, her once sharp gaze now soft and vacant. She had become the epitome of a dumb blonde, a nurse who cared more about her looks than her patients.

"Hey there, gorgeous." A frat guy, his face painted like a skeleton, appeared beside her. "Looking for someone?" Karen blinked, her new personality taking over. "Yeah, I'm looking for Liam. He's, like, my boyfriend, you know?" The frat guy winked, his grin mischievous. "Oh, I know Liam. I'll take you to him. He's gonna love this." Karen followed, her hips swaying in a way she never thought possible. The frat guy led her upstairs, away from the party, and into a dimly lit bedroom. "He's in here, waiting for you," he said, his voice low and suggestive. But as Karen stepped into the room, she realized something was amiss. There was no Liam, just the frat guy, his painted grin now sinister. "You won't be needing Liam tonight," he purred, closing the door behind her.

Karen's protests were weak, her newfound stupidity making it hard to resist. The night blurred, and she gave in to the frat guy's advances, her inhibitions gone.

The morning sun streamed through the window, and Karen woke with a start. She was back in her own clothes, her nurse's costume discarded. Her head throbbed, and her memories of the previous night were hazy. She had a vague recollection of the frat boy's face, his hands on her body, and the sound of his laughter. "Oh no," she whispered, her hand resting on her flat stomach. She remembered the feeling of his body against hers and the realization hit her—she was pregnant. But with which frat boy? She couldn't even remember his name. She had to find Liam, tell him everything, and hope he'd stand by her. On campus, Karen spotted Liam surrounded by his new fraternity brothers. Their laughter rang out, a stark contrast to Liam's former self. She approached with trepidation, her heart pounding. "Liam, I need to talk to you." The group fell silent as Liam turned, his once gentle eyes now cold. "What do you want, Karen?" His voice was laced with annoyance. "I... I'm pregnant." The words tumbled out, and Karen's eyes filled with tears. "It happened last night. I don't know who the father is, but I wanted you to know. I love you, and I want us to stand this together." Liam's face twisted in disgust. "What? Fuck off, slut. Don't try to pin some frat boy's bastard on me. Get out of my sight!"

His new friends roared with laughter, and Karen felt her heart shatter. She stood there, stunned, as the realization hit her. This wasn't just about the costume; it was about who Liam truly was. The old Liam, the one she thought she knew, would never have reacted this way. But perhaps he had always been hiding behind his nerdy exterior, and the costume had simply unveiled his true self. As Karen walked away, she knew her life had changed forever. The baby growing inside her was a constant reminder of that fateful Halloween night. She couldn't help but wonder if she had ever truly known Liam at all.

[zorangezest]

meet the bayverse

[pawberri]

Squished

[jubileeeeee]

2 idiots showing off their guy

[the-uncanny-dag]

You can't be a casual fan of movies and prestige TV about women bc it's not possible to find any commentary or fanart of value without these fuckass girlblogger coquette thinspo female manipulator proana lana posts spamming the tags like a rat infestation in a grocery store

[elitisim]

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.12 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS, DAY 6: 6 GEESE A LAYING. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Okay, the thought process was: geese a laying > geese > mother goose > nursery rhymes > Nurseries. You see the vision, right?...Good! Day 6 of [ELITISIM'S 12 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS ADVENT EXTRAVAGANZA!] is a conversion of @myshunosun's lullaby nursery set: 6 items for your newest bouncing bundle of joy to enjoy this holiday season!

Information:

None of this is my original work! All mesh and texture credit goes to the original creator, @myshunosun!

All objects are functional.

Low-poly meshes: all meshes are less than 1.5k with most being under 500!

** WARNING**: The Changing Tables require either the [Baby Changing Station from the EA Store] or [Baby Table file from @aroundthesims] to work properly! Rocking Chairs are NOT base game compatible and require Supernatural to function! [they might work with Store Content rocking Chairs but idk i'm not sure]

**WARNING 2:** Crib works perfectly for toddlers, but infants float a little when placed.

Polycounts, in game prices, and color channel breakdown under the cut!

[DOWNLOAD MERGED]

[DOWNLOAD UNMERGED]

Tagging: @pis3update, @xto3conversionsfinds, @kpccfinds,

Lullabye Nursery Crib : 288 Polys| 4 channels | Found in Kids under Furniture | §165|

Lullabye Nursery Changing Table : 178 Polys| 2 channels | Found in Kids under Furniture| §75|

Lullabye Nursery Dresser : 723 Polys| 4 channels | Found in Storage under Dressers| §75|

Lullabye Nursery Toy Chest : 204 Polys| 3 channels | Found in Comfort under Beds| §50|

Lullabye Nursery Nightstand : 354 Polys| 4 channels | Found in surfaces under Endtables| §80|

Lullabye Nursery Rocking Chair : 1254 Polys| 4 channels | Found in Comfort under Living Chairs| §80|

[steampoweredwerehog]

When Reggie (Regina) graduated with accolades and got her dream job, she never knew her assignment would be so…alive.

A bunch of scientists scooped some weird spaghetti out of a dead god and turned it into a computer. Is that good? Hard to say if this is bad or good.

Tethis uses it/its btw

[megasoup]

I’ve been thinking of this so much recently so I had to dump out all my dumb thoughts on the table for everyone to see

[cyberbyte3d]

liam don’t turn around

[fafnir19]

The bowtie

Tristan watched the stars twinkle faintly above the hotel's garden as he swirled the gin tonic in his glass. The soft evening breeze carried laughter and muffled chatter from the nearby pre-wedding-dinner. The soft glow of fairy lights cast a gentle ambiance, creating a serene backdrop for the upcoming wedding. Dressed in his tuxedo, he felt a touch out of place amidst the chatter and laughter drifting from the dining hall.

As he gazed at the stars, a voice interrupted his solitude. "Have you already chosen which bridesmaid you will get laid?" The words sliced through the calm, revealing the arrival of a man named Samuel, the bride's brother. Dark hair framing a chiseled jaw, Samuel exuded confidence and charm. Tristan's friend had told him about Samuel's reputation as a womanizer and a ruthless boss in an investment bank.

The question hung in the air, leaving Tristan flustered and unsure how to respond. "I, um, I..." he stammered and his heart was beating faster by stress. "I'm not... I usually... I mean, I don't..." His fingers tightened around the glass, a nervous energy thrumming beneath his calm exterior. Samuel chuckled, a low and knowing sound that sent a shiver down Tristan's spine. "Relax, mate. I was just pulling your leg," he said with a grin, a glint of mischief in his eyes. Leaning back, he appraised Tristan with a curious gaze. "You strike me as a man of numbers, more comfortable with algorithms than small talk. Am I right?" Tristan blinked, surprised by the astute observation. "Yes, I... I've always been more at ease with calculations than conversations," he admitted, a hint of self-consciousness lacing his voice. Samuel's easy confidence was a stark contrast to his own insecurities, highlighting the gap between them. One, a reserved mathematician futil trying navigating social waters, and the other, a charming banker well-versed in the ways of the world.

With a swift movement, Samuel's fingers deftly adjusted Tristan's bow tie and he inquired, “but honestly, which bridesmaid are you going to seduce?" Samuel's words caught Tristan off guard again, his cheeks flushing a rosy hue. "I-I usually don't... I mean, I'm not that assertive with women," Tristan stammered, his usual shyness creeping in. "Nonsense," Samuel chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You're a catch, you just need to loosen up a bit. Let me assist you with that."

Samuel fixed Tristan's gaze and suddenly Tristan's bowtie unfolded itself and slid into Tristan's shirt and slithered down his chest. A mix of confusion and arousal stirred within Tristan as the bowtie trailed lower over his sensitive nipples.

The silky touch against his skin sparked a fire of desire within him, and his nipples perked up at the unexpected caress. Tristan's breath caught in his throat as the bowtie gradually moved down to his waist. Moans escaped Tristan's lips as the silk bowtie continued its journey, coiling sensually around his cock and balls. The fabric embraced his manhood with a gentle yet firm grip, sending waves of pleasure coursing through his body. Tristan's breath hitched as desire surged within him, his arousal undeniable in the moonlit garden. With each subtle movement of the silk, Tristan's member responded eagerly, rising to attention beneath the fabric's teasing caress. The sensation was unlike anything he had ever experienced, a potent mix of silk and desire that left him yearning for more. His tuxedo jacket vanished into thin air, followed by the slow unfurling of his shirt buttons. Tristan's pants' fly opened effortlessly, revealing a surprise awaiting him underneath – a sleek black silk jockstrap, a transformation from his once-humble bowtie. A grin tugged at the corners of Tristan's lips as he marveled at the sight of himself clad in the lustrous garment, his manhood sheathed in silk that accentuated every curve and contour.

Before he knew it, Tristan stood there in nothing but the black silk jockstrap that moments ago was his bowtie, his bare ass exposed to the night air. Samuel leaned back, a predatory gleam in his eyes as he took in Tristan's newfound state of undress. "Now that's more like it," he purred, his tone laden with promise. Panic welled up within Tristan, urging him to flee from this bewildering turn of events.

As he moved to flee, Samuel's firm hand grasped his shoulder, halting Tristan in his tracks. He turned to face Samuel, his blue eyes wide with confusion. Without a word, Samuel's hand slid down Tristan's back, fingers tracing a tantalizing path until they reached their destination. Tristan's breath hitched as Samuel fingered his hole shamelessly and his touch sent a shockwave of sensation through his body.

The intimacy of the moment left Tristan speechless, his body responding to the unknown sensations with a primal need. Before Tristan could gather his thoughts, Samuel deftly turned him around, pressing him against the bench. The world seemed to spin as Tristan found himself at the mercy of Samuel's desires, a flurry of emotions swirling within him. As Samuel took what he wanted, Tristan's body surrendered to the overwhelming wave of pleasure and confusion.

And then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over. Tristan was left breathless and with Samuel’s cum inside of him. He watched in shock as Samuel ripped away the silk jockstrap, revealing a truth that left Tristan reeling. His cock, once a part of him, now merged seamlessly with the fabric of the jockstrap. It was a sight that defied logic, a bizarre twist in an already surreal night.

Before Tristan could even begin to process what had happened, Samuel was gone, disappearing into the night with Tristan's manhood in tow. The abrupt departure of Samuel, along with the disappearance of the black silk jockstrap, jolted Tristan back to reality. His eyes widened in disbelief as he realized the unthinkable – his very essence, his manhood, had merged with the silk and was now gone, taken by the enigmatic Samuel.

Tristan's heart raced as he sat in the church the next day and fixed his gaze on Samuel, the enigmatic and devilishly handsome investment banker, near the altar. The memories of the night before in the hotel garden flooded his mind. He wanted to approach Samuel and reclaim his manhood. But he couldn't just do it in the middle of a church during a wedding ceremony. Tristan could hardly believe his eyes as he watched Samuel gracefully adjusting a bowtie around the neck of a jock-like groomsman.

Each precise movement of Samuel's hands sent shivers down Tristan's spine, as if he was the one being touched. The realization struck him like a thunderbolt - his own cock had transformed into that very bowtie, binding him to the groomsman in an intimate and surreal manner. The wave of lust that accompanied every adjustment of the bowtie sent shivers down Tristan's spine. He squirmed in his seat, trying to focus on the ceremony at hand, but his thoughts were consumed by the torment of desire. A bead of sweat trickled down Tristan's forehead as he struggled to contain the overwhelming sensations coursing through him. The church's solemn atmosphere contrasted sharply with the carnal urges stirring within him, creating a discordant symphony of conflicting emotions. Tristan's hands clenched the edge of the wooden pew, his knuckles turning white with the effort of holding back his desires. The groomsman, unaware of the intricate connection between his bowtie and Tristan's own body, occasionally adjusted the silk accessory with practiced ease. Each subtle movement seemed calculated to drive Tristan to the brink of madness. The air around him crackled with suppressed energy, his mind clouded by a haze of lust and longing. As the ceremony progressed, Tristan's internal struggle intensified. The knot of desire tightened within him, threatening to unravel his self-control. He stole furtive glances at Samuel, whose gaze seemed to pierce through Tristan's facade, laying bare his innermost desires.

The weight of unspoken words hung heavy in the air between them, suffusing the church with an undercurrent of tension. Time seemed to stretch and distort, elongating the minutes into agonizing eternities. Tristan's breath came in shallow gasps, his chest rising and falling with the rhythm of his escalating arousal. The wedding hymns echoed through the hallowed space, their melodic strains weaving a tapestry of temptation around Tristan's senses. But Tristan knew he had to bide his time, waiting for the right moment to make his move.

As dinner finally commenced, Tristan seized the opportunity to approach Samuel and the jock-like groomsman.

His palms clammy and his heart pounding, he watched intently as Samuel nonchalantly removed the bowtie from the groomsman's neck. The motion was like a siren's call, letting Tristan squirm in uncharted desire. With a steady hand, Samuel slid the bowtie into Tristan's shirt, where it snaked down to his crotch, transforming into the familiar silk jockstrap, packed with his cock and balls.

But this time, something was different. Tristan felt a shift in the air, a transformation stirring within him. And as he looked down, he realized that he was no longer the same man. In that moment, Tristan was reborn. His body exuded a newfound confidence, muscles sculpted and a smirk playing on his lips. Tristan stood there as a reflection of the groomsman who had once worn the bowtie.

No longer the timid mathematician trapped in his own insecurities, Tristan stood tall, exuding a newfound aura of self-assurance.

As he tried to process this sudden transformation, a bridesmaid sauntered by, catching his eye with a mischievous twinkle. Without hesitation, Tristan found himself slipping effortlessly into a flirtatious banter with the bridesmaid.

Gone was the awkwardness that usually plagued him in social settings. He exuded confidence and charm, much to his own surprise. Later that evening, amidst the cozy ambiance of the fireside room, Tristan found himself entwined in a passionate embrace with the bridesmaid. Moans and sighs filled the air as they surrendered to desire. As they parted ways, Tristan emerged from the fireside room, his strides filled with a newfound swagger. It was then that Samuel appeared.

Samuel's hand clapped down on Tristan's back in a congratulatory gesture, his voice laced with a mix of amusement and satisfaction. "Your transformation is now irreversible," Samuel declared, his words carrying an air of finality. "Henceforth, you will be a vain and cocksure jock." With a flourish, Samuel produced a business card and extended it to Tristan. "Join my investment banking team on Monday. Embrace your new identity." A protest formed on Tristan's lips, a plea to retain his former self, but an unfamiliar force gripped him. A surge of bravado surged through his veins, drowning out his doubts. His once rational mind now clouded with a heady mix of power and allure.

Samuel's satisfaction only deepened as he observed Tristan's internal struggle. With a sardonic smirk dancing on his lips, Samuel remarked, "I don't get why HR always whines about hiring the right people. All you have to do is get the appropriate candidates by the balls!" His words cut through the tension, revealing a glimpse of Samuel's ruthless nature beneath his charming facade.

Tristan couldn't help but feel a mix of anticipation and intrigue at what lay ahead. With a nod of acceptance, Tristan pocketed the business card, feeling the weight of his decision settle upon him. The path ahead was unclear, but one thing was certain – he was no longer the meek mathematician he once was. His very essence seemed to shift, aligning with Samuel's vision of a ruthless and confident figure in the cutthroat world of finance. As the night faded into dawn, Tristan stood at the precipice of a new beginning, his heart racing with anticipation and a newfound hunger for success.

[kozilmog]

Hey mate, love your stuff! If possible I'd like to see Spidey become a typical dumb jock!

Maybe he stumbled into the wrong room or finds a cursed item?

Spider-Man -> Jock/Flash Thompson

A clever little plan. Plant a powerful curse on a sweaty, used clothing of that oaf Flash Thompson and watch as noble, heroic and gallant Spider-Man becomes shallow, self-obsessed bully, Flash Thompson.

Though, it seems Spidey doesn't seem to mind.

[teh-inggris]

aw seriously

[kray-zay]

designs for a Transformers horror AU thing I was working on but shelved for the time being to work on my other main tf au project.

Thought I just shared these freaks without context. rest of the art and writing for this project prob not gonna be posted until/if I start working on it again.

Bonus little dude, he a part of a diagram explaining some lore but it doesn't make a ton of sense without knowing other lore from this AU I haven't shared.

[pobblebonked]

computerized

[2-eeillustration]

Wing-it sketchpage commission for torrance.sol on Insta of his titan-class TF OC Cashout!! I love the big casino theme ✨ !!