albrowsing - Tumblr blog

albrowsing · 1 day ago

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The Best Volunteers are... Disgruntled Daddies...

This fine specimen here is exactly what I'd call my "guilty pleasure." The kind of man who'd rather be sipping a beer than sitting through my stupid little hypnosis show. The blatant disregard for my profession is written all across his stoney scowl. The only time he's met my gaze is to roll his eyes and frown.

"Let's get this over with," he huffed as his wife shoved him up and out of his seat.

"Get up there, Steve!" she giggled excitedly, "Dr. Dormand chose you!"

I flashed the woman a mischievous smile, making her bubble up with even more excitement as the couple's two young boys stared back in awe. Their father figure shuffled up to his seat on the stage, and slumped down in the chair, spreading his legs and sighing as if all of my showmanship were beneath a man like him.

"So, Steve, is it?" I ask, rounding the man, walking with my usual performative flourishes.

"Yes," he grunts.

"You don't seem to eager to be up here?" I hiss, "Is it possible you are nervous?"

"Nope."

A few chuckles sound in the crowd. I'm sure they're all thinking that there is no chance in hell of hypnotizing a man as stubborn as this.

"You have a lovely family, Steve," I smile brightly and step behind the man, planting my palms on his shoulders, "What brings y'all out here tonight."

"Vacation," he grumbles, sneering at my hands on his body before continuing, "My wife thought a hypnosis show would be fun."

He says it as if I'm already proving her wrong.

"Thanks, Steve...LADIES and GENTLEMEN!" I announce, addressing the whole room, "What if I told you that Steve here has already fallen under my control? He just doesn't know it yet."

There are a few gasps in the crowd, but mostly scoffing. Steve just shakes his head.

"MY EYES..." I say, rounding the chair to peer directly into the man's gaze, "...do all the work for me. You can't stop staring can you?"

Steve doesn't answer, but his brow furrows and his lips tighten as he tries to look away, to look anywhere aside from my stare. He's realizing he can't.

"...HOT!" I continue, "This room is so hot, Steve. I don't know how a big guy like you can bare it in that suffocating Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts. You must be itching to pull them off, to finally feel some relief!" I lean in, wrapping an arm around the increasingly docile hunk of a father. "You know, nobody here would judge you if you did take them off. In fact, we'd all be happy for you to be comfortable, Steve!"

I break eye contact with the man; his eager eyes reluctantly pulling away from my own like he already misses them. My arms raise at the crowd dramatically, garnering some cheering for Steve, who now has a dazed look on his face as he sits in the chair, deciding what to do. I already know what he'll decide. He just needs a few seconds to relent and five in to my suggestions.

With a deep exhale, a grin of relief washes over his face. The childish glee seems unnatural on him, though I suppose that's just because I've only ever known Steve to scowl and frown.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen," I purr in triumph, "It looks like this one is ready to comply!"

Steve hastily drags his tacky Hawaiian shirt off his shoulders, tearing it down and off his arms. His cargo shorts are next, as he jumps up and fumbles over his belt buckle, before dropping them to the floor. Just like that, I've got this daddy standing in front of dozens of audience members in his pristine white undergarments.

"Oh, that's better..." he sighs in relief, stepping out of his shorts, "...it's so hot in here."

"Yes, Steve, this room is BOILING HOT!" I quip back with a quick wink at the audience.

Amid the cackling voices of the crowd, I clock the man's wife doubling over in laughter as their two sons squeal in delight. She tries to stifle her amusement enough to get a photo with her phone. I bet they've never seen their daddy outside in his underwear, and some permanent evidence of the event would be great to pull out at any future family events.

"Jesus..." Steve mutters, pulling at his undershirt, "It's still boiling in this place."

"I'm sure you're SWEATING BUCKETS, Steve, but you can't take anything else off," I pat him on the back, already feeling a thin layer of moisture, "It's not that kind of show, folks."

The crowd laughs at my innuendo and my volunteer chuckles awkwardly. I think the guy might even be blushing.

"No need to be nervous, Steve," I say, rubbing lower and lower on his back, "You know why?"

The dazed father of two looks back at me with genuine interest, asking, "Why?"

"Because you're HYPNOTIZED, of course!" I cry joyously, "I could tell you to do ANYTHING, and obeying wouldn't bother you one bit!"

"It wouldn't..." he tells me, saying it more like a statement than a question. His empty brown eyes find my gaze again. In just a few minutes he's become completely dependent on my stare. He's proving to be more programmable than most.

"KNEEL!" I command

He drops to the floor, almost falling on his face as he races to follow my instruction. His eyes never leave my own. At this point, the man is basically looking at me with total trust and adoration: he's like putty in my hands.

"Well, folks, you can't deny this! Can you?"

I look down at Steve as the crowd stares in awe. A man like this, kneeling on the ground like that, wearing nothing but his sweat soaked underwear; it's the kind of sight to give people ideas. This man might be a married father, but he's pretty built. He might not groom his body hair, or cut back on his growing beer belly, but he's a specimen the whole room can appreciate. Now that he's hypnotized and glossed up with sweat, he doesn't mind the wandering eyes.

The only eyes he cares about are my own.

"That's it, Steve," I say with the same tone as somebody praising their pet, "You're good at being HYPNOTIZED."

"Thank you," he articulates the phrase awkwardly, like all of his brainpower is being directed towards obedience, not silly things like words or thoughts.

"Don't forget my title," I say with a smirk to the audience, "I worked hard for that degree."

"Yes," he corrects himself, "Thank you, Dr. Dormand," with the same slow drawn out cadence of a brainless lackey.

I glance into the crowd. Most of them are still giggling. Steve's wife seems to have swapped photography for videotaping. I'm sure her husband would appreciate have his entire humiliation recorded his buddies to see. At her side, the two boys seem to have grown restless and disinterested, tugging on their mother's sleeve for attention. I do so hate when people bring children to my shows. Sure, this is a vacation spot for families, but I prefer my acts for a more mature crowd. Still, I'm not above some improvisation of my routine...

"Steve," I say, needlessly calling his attention when I've already captured it entirely.

"Yes, Dr. Dormand?"

"You're a WORM!"

I snap my fingers, ringing a loud crack through the auditorium that makes everyone jump. It also seems to break poor old Steve's mind, reducing it to truly believing he is a worm.

The crowd goes wild, the children scream in delight, and people stand up to get a better look as Steve writhes on the dirty stage floor. His arms and legs seem useless. For that matter, his face and basic senses seem so too, as he simply contracts and extends his thick hairy form, flopping himself across stage in a ridiculous fashion until his shirt is dragged off.

"Steve, the WORM!" I announce, gesturing towards the pathetic man with a dramatic flair.

My audience sees the ridiculous sight of a 30-something year-old acting ridiculous and applauds, but I see more. I notice the way the globes of his fleshy ass flex and then jiggle as his hips thrust the ground. His underwear, thank god it's still on, tightens around his crotch as he slams his package into the floor and drags it across the stage. He even leaves a trail as he moves, like some sort of human slug, soaking up the stage's dust and leaving his bodily moisture in his wake.

I need to move on before my own excited package becomes noticeable in my slacks.

"Steve!" I command back the attention of the human worm, bringing the room to silence.

"You're a DOG!" and I snap my fingers!

My sweaty little worm barely has a second to rest before his arms and legs come back to life, suddenly useful again, and he jumps up to his hands and knees. Steve's tongue rolls out of his mouth, panting since he still believes this room is boiling hot, and suddenly the man is bounding about like a massive 200lb puppy.

Once again, the crowd eats it up.

"Daddy's a dog!" one of his boys screams!

"Oh, he'll never believe this!" his wife snorts.

I let the crowd have their fun, entertaining any suggestion they have. Someone wants to see Steve act like a chicken. Another wants to see him leg an egg. Still more suggestions come in. I don't even have time for another volunteer with the audience's eagerness to exploit this man for their entertainment. I suppose there's something so universally indulgent in seeing a big serious guy like this, normally intimidating and standoffish, reduced to the whims and delights of a random crowd.

"Tell him to sniff his armpits!"

"Make him do the chicken dance!"

"Can he sing?"

"ALRIGHTY, folks!" I yell, calming the audience down, "I think we've had our fun with Steve."

I'm met with a few disappointed faces.

"The show is about to end, but I think we've proved here...tonight, that even the MOST strong-willed among us...are no match...for the hypnosis of Dr. Dormand!"

They erupt in applause, as Steve stands vacantly still and stupid behind me.

"Have a good night everyone," I smile and call, "Could I get Steve's family, up here?"

The audience begins filing out, giggling and chattering about the wild events of the night. From from the retreating crowd, Steve's wife, emerges with her two kids in tow.

"Oh, Dr. Dormand," she gushes, "That was just extraordinary. I know Steve, and that's how I know you're the real deal. My husband would never have done any of that!"

"I'm glad," I flash my brilliant smile, "Mrs...?

"Cunningham," she finishes, "And this is Bobby, and this is Joey."

She displays her two kids to me like they are prized possessions, but I don't think I've ever heard a more boring collection of names.

"Well, Mrs. Cunningham..." I purr, finding her eyes, "Steve deserves a nice REST. Right?"

Her head cocks to the side before answering, "Yes, yeah, he seems tired."

"Let Steve have a BREAK. Go enjoy your vacation ON YOUR OWN....FORGET HIM."

"Ok," she nods, with a plastered smile.

Mrs. Cunningham turns and guides the children out of the auditorium, leaving her nearly naked husband in and empty auditorium with the world's best hypnotist...

"Start marching, big boy!" I purr into his ear.

I can't help but reach out and grab at the muscle and weight hanging off his sweaty back. It ripples as his bare feet slap against the tiled floor and his sweat makes it glisten beneath the flourescent lights.

"Bet you haven't seen the service halls, Steve, being a vacationing tourist yourself," I speak, basically talking to no one, "My rooms back here. Much more private and...discreet "

"Yes, Dr. Dormand," he drones mindlessly.

"Don't call me that now," I snap, "Refer to me as...hmmm... What do I want to be called? Oh, how about, 'Master, Love of my Life, Owner of My Wallet, and Commander of my Body'! How does that sound?"

"It sounds fine, Master, Love of my Life, Owner of My Wallet, and Commander of my Body," his husky voice repeats it perfectly.

I almost cum hearing him call me that.

"Take a right up here," I instruct, "We're almost to my room, where you'll be spending the rest of your vacation as my plaything."

"Yes, Master, Love of my Life, Owner of My Wallet, and Commander of my Body."

We walk down the hallways further, taking rights and lefts. Sometimes I command him where to go and listen to him obey with complete devotion. Other times I just reach out and hand and grip his torso, pushing his heavy presence in my desired direction. It turns me on to feel how solid he is, how immovable, only to instantly relent and go where my hand guides him. It's almost like driving a car. For a second, I consider hopping on his back and steering him with tugs of his ear, like the fucking rat in that Disney movie.

"Almost there, Steve," I say, reassuring myself more than him as my hands wander down to his jiggling man-ass.

"Yes, Master, Love of my Life, Owner of My Wallet, and Commander of my Body."

"Alright," I groan, "Just call me sir, now."

"Yes, sir."

The simpler title still does wonders for my erection. I doubt this man ever uses that word, so it's delicious to hear him using it for me.

We pass a few workers as we dive deeper into the building's unseen core; a few of the restaurants busboys carrying out garbage, a couple housekeepers with bins of linens, even a manager or two. None of them batt an eye at the dazed man bounding by, glistening with sweat and exposed aside from his soaked white underwear. I've hypnotized them all too many times to count. They barely notice when I come down here anymore, accompanied by my brainwashed victims or not. In fact, they hardly notice that I've got the power to snap at any one of them to order a blowjob on the spot. Nothing like having any of the hotel staff's mouths at open and salivating at my convenience.

"Right through there," I push him towards my apartment door.

"Yes, sir," is all he says as he steps in.

I immediately push him into a small alcove of my room. It's supposed to be used as a closet, but I tend to park my hypnotized daddies in it.

"Ok, Steve," I take a step back, preparing myself, "I'm going to wake you up in a moment. You'll be out of your trance, back to your old self EXCEPT for some things..."

"Yes, sir," he drones numbly.

"...you'll know you can't leave. You shouldn't leave. SEX DADDIES don't leave there HYPNOTIST, and they don't want to. You understand that's what you are now, for the remainder of your vacation. You're my SEX DADDY, it's like a daddy version of a sex slave. You might not like gay sex, you might find me annoying, and strange, and prefer your wife, but it doesn't matter because, my good man, are a SEX DADDY for me."

"...sex daddy..." he quietly digests the term.

"Yes, and I am your HYPNOTIST, understand? You might not believe in hypnosis, you might believe I'm a fraud, and a lier, but you will obey me and everything I've commanded of you. You'll still treat me with the utmost respect, still calling me 'sir' and still taking orders."

It's quiet for a second.

"...my hypnotist..." his voice is barely audible.

I give his numb, unmoving face one last caress against his rough stubble, gazing into his simply overeager eyes before I snap.

"WAKE!"

His body twitches back to life, and his familiar scowl readjusts itself to his face. Steve's stone serious demeanor seems to fill his body again as his shoulders hunch over and his eagle eyes search his new surroundings.

"Where the hell am I, sir?" he grunts, "And where's my clothes!" his voice raises.

Goosebumps appear on his skin as he finally registers the true temperature of my chilly room. He's probably also feeling sore from all the flailing about he did as a worm.

"You don't need clothes."

"Oh, ok, sir," he nods, though looks a bit disappointed, "Because, I'm your Sex-Daddy?"

"BINGO!"

I thought I could get him to crack a smile, but he doesn't. Steve just grimaces at the thought.

"Let's get this over with," he huffs as he shuffles over to my bed, "Am I fucking you?"

"Oh no," I reply, and he sneers disappointedly.

"Get over here and start using me, Hypnotist," he sighs, pulling off his shorts and crawling on bed. His long flaccid cock flops out and swings with his equally heavy balls, "You only get me for the next five days. Then I'm going home with my family."

"So soon?"

He grunts as I climb on top of him, "Would love to leave sooner, sir, if it weren't for this whole Sex-Daddy thing."

"So you don't want to be used as a home for my cock?" I ask playfully.

"No," he scoffs, "But I'm your Sex-Daddy. I get it, sir. So use me how you want!".

"With pleasure," I moan in his ear.

I'd describe the hours of sex we had that round, how I increasingly used his body in more and more creative ways. He couldn't say no to anything, so it got kinky real fast. I'd explain it all, but your imagination is probably capturing it.

Steve would become increasingly disgusted and uncomfortable as I used him, but he continued to assure me that I had every right to his dad-bod. If that isn't consent, I don't know what is.

"Go kneel in the corner Steve, hands behind your head," I command, panting from the exertion. Receiving hours of one-sided sex can really drain the energy. "I want to see my Sex-Daddy on display when he's not used..."

"Yes, sir."

I chuckle and go to the closet to pull on some fresh clothes. Steve is still shivering.

"Still think Hypnosis is fake?"

"Are you kidding, sir," he rolls his eyes, "I know it's your whole thing and all, but it's literally the stupidest thing anyone could believe in. Don't tell my wife I said that though."

"Don't worry, Steve, I won't."

I flick the lights off and head out of my room, buttoning up my shirt. My hypnotized Daddy will have to get used to kneeling in the dark. I have another show to host, and who knows? Maybe I'll find another disgruntled dad to share the load with Steve...

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albrowsing · 4 days ago

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Unknown Sender

It was a lazy Saturday, when Tomas pulled out his phone to take some new pics. He'd been working hard at the gym lately, so it was time to get some updated shots showing off his gains.

He slipped in his earphones so he could listen to some "pump up" music and began to get to work.

About 40 shots in, he received a text message from a number he didn't recognize. He opened the message, which simply said, "Bro, check this out! You'll never be the same!" The text included a link to click.

Tomas wasn't stupid. He knew this could be spam, a link to a virus, or a way for someone to plant spyware on his phone. However, the language sounded just like the majority of his friends. Maybe one of them changed phone numbers recently and just hadn't told him. More likely, he'd given his number to a bro at the gym and forgot.

When he clicked the link, a gif appeared on his phone. It seemed pretty simple. A hirsute man, chuffing on a cigar. However, Tomas couldn't seem to look away. The smoke. The glowing end of the cigar. The lighting changes. And two simple words at the bottom, "I'm waiting..."

He didn't recognize the man, but that didn't matter. The longer he stared at the gif, the more interesting and complex it became. He couldn't look away. He swore he could also hear a voice, but it was very slight. It would go in and out of his mind - sometimes in his right ear, others in the left. While staring, he continued to sink deeper and deeper, staring at the gif.

After about what Tomas thought was 10-15 minutes, there was a knock at his door. He rubbed his eyes, then looked at his clock and realized he'd lost over 2 hours just staring and listening. After a second knock, he headed to the door.

As he opened the door, it was a driver with his Amazon order. He wasn't a uniformed Amazon delivery person, but one of those locals who delivers through his own vehicle. That's when Tomas realized something - he smelled like cigar smoke and had two in reserve in his shirt pocket.

At this point, Tomas couldn't control his own body. His cock started rising as he stared, obviously making the driver visibly uncomfortable. The older gentleman then said, "Um, are you going to take the package so I can get out of here?" Coming to, Tomas shook his head and said, "Yes, I'm so sorry. I got distracted." The driver snarked, "I could tell. Have a good rest of your day."

As the driver turned tail to leave, Tomas asked him to stop. He didn't understand understand why, but he asked, "Sir, could I have one of your cigars?" The driver looked confused again, then said, "That's a new one. Sorry, kid, these puppies are imported and cost me about 10 bucks each." Tomas said, "I've got a 20, will you take that?" Thinking for a second, the driver said, "Sure, I'll take that deal on one condition. You have to smoke the cigar, as is. If you're planning to empty it out to smoke weed or something, no deal. It's too good for that." Tomas handed the man a $20 bill and said, "I promise!" With the exchange done, the driver walked away saying, "Nice to see a young man with taste, for a change."

Closing his door, Tomas placed the package down and then stared at the cigar in his hand. He couldn't understand why he reacted the way he did when he smelled the smoke on the man's clothes. Why did he get so horny? Why did he buy the cigar off the man? Maybe he needed to go back to watching the gif again.

With that, he sat down on the couch and clicked the link again...

When Tomas came to, he was actively smoking a cigar. The smoke swirling around his head, almost as if the smoke from the gif he'd been watching was literally coming from the screen. As he looked at the clock, he realized he had lost about 5 hours. After noticing his phone was at 5% battery, he immediately dropped it on his charging pad. There was no way he could let it completely get to zero, then he wouldn't be able to watch the gif.

Tomas didn't notice that he was smoking the cigar like a pro. As it smouldered in his jaw, Tomas saw a small box, lighter, cutter, and ashtray with about 5 spent cigars. Where had these come from? When he opened the box, he realized it was a small humidor filled with more cigars.

Tomas' mind started racing, but as he continued the pull on the cigar, he realized how much he needed them. How they got there wasn't important, only that they were there. He was truly addicted. A small smirk came across his lips as he came to this realization, just as he reopened the app and clicked on the link again...

When Tomas awoke this time, it was Sunday afternoon. As he shook out the cobwebs, he was again actively smoking a cigar, but his chest hurt. As he looked down, he was initially shocked to see the outline of a large tattoo. Over the tattoo, was a leather harness, and stranger yet was a chain and padlock around his neck.

Rather than being freaked out, Tomas felt comfortable. The tattoo, which he would have never gotten previously, looked amazing. It outlined his chest and emphasized his physique. He couldn't wait to get it finished. The harness almost felt like a leather hug. The chain and padlock was a mystery, but he felt extremely comfortable as he looked at it. It wasn't out of place, rather it provided him with a sense of belonging and comfort.

Tomas was perfectly content, hauling on his cigar, feeling confident and comfortable. He was fully relaxed, feeling this was who he was meant to be. He had no memory of or interest in being the former gym bro he was. He could tell there was still more to come, he just couldn't see it clearly. He needed to consult the gif. It would make sure he knew, just as it had already.

Tomas then opened the message app and opened the link, yet again....

When Tomas came to, he took a haul on his cigar, feeling better than he'd ever felt in his life. This time, however, he hadn't lost hours but days! It was the following Saturday.

As Tomas looked at his phone, he'd clearly taken calls and responded to texts. Most were from work and friends. One friend and he had had what looked to be a fight about his much he'd changed. His friend complained about Tomas smelling like smoke at the gym and clearly looking like he'd been taking steroids, "because there's no way he'd put on that mass so quickly without them." Tomas looked over at his vials and syringes and shrugged. "Who the fuck cares"", he said to himself. He couldn't wait to get his own gym set up where he could workout in peace.

The exchange from work wasn't great, either. The last text he had from his boss said that his personal stuff would be in a box at the security office for 30 days or they'd be tossed. That didn't bode well. As he scrolled backward through the exchange, he realized he hadn't gone to work for a few days, then when his boss contacted him, Tomas basically said he was tired of working for the soul sucking company. Needless to say, his boss let him know his services were no longer needed.

Tomas immediately began to freak out - how was he going to pay for his cigars, more leather, more tattoos, the gym, his cycles? He needed these things. He unlocked this new evolution of himself and he was fully comfortable and confident - bordering on cocky.

That's when a thought crossed his mind. He took a gif of himself in full glory and sent it to the number that originally sent him the link...

Within 5 minutes, Tomas received a response from the unknown sender. "I've been waiting on this day, boy." Tomas responded, "Thank you, Master." "You have done very well. I will be there shortly to claim my prize. Until then, continue watching my gif. Prepare to leave your former life behind."

Tomas clicked on the link for the last time...

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albrowsing · 4 days ago

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Daddy's Home

Caleb is a young contractor working on a new home build project just outside of Austin, TX. He'd recently moved to Texas from Alabama in order to start over after a difficult break-up with his long-time girlfriend. He was glad to have the distraction of work to focus on since his current living situation is up in the air.

Caleb's client, Larry, found him via a lucky web search. Larry said he wanted someone from outside of the area so the project wouldn't look exactly like all the other homes in the area. They spoke several times about the project over Zoom before Caleb felt comfortable taking the leap to move out of state.

The more they spoke, the more connected Caleb felt to Larry. They were both single. Larry had also gone through a break-up recently, which led him to want to sell the house he was living in and start over as soon as possible. Larry was about 15 years older than Caleb, and a senior researcher at a biomedical engineering company with ties to the military.

After Larry convinced Caleb to take the project, he encouraged the contractor to save money by living with him in his current home. At first, Caleb thought it was an extremely odd request, but Larry insisted it would be convenient and they could spend evenings ensuring the project was meeting specs. Larry also had lots of contacts with sub-contractors.

While the arrangement was far from traditional, it seemed to work. The house was actually ahead of schedule. Caleb found hi self enjoying Larry's company and starting to see him as more of a friend and mentor than he ever thought. Surprisingly, Caleb didn't miss going out and enjoyed being home with Larry. He even enjoyed Larry's cooking a lot!

The day finally came when the project was done. Larry met Caleb at the worksite so they could do the final walk-through.

"Damn, man," Larry said, "This place is my dream. You did an amazing job." Caleb blushed, "Well, I never thought this crazy arrangement would work, but I'm super proud of it. Thanks for being a great client and partner on the project."

Larry pulled out two thick cigars, saying, "I think it's time we do a little celebrating!" Caleb took the cigar, rolling it in his fingers for a moment. As he watched Larry light and begin puffing away, blowing his smoke in Caleb's direction, he froze. Something wasn't right.

"What's wrong, buddy?", Larry asked as he continued blowing smoke in Caleb's face. "Is my smoke bothering you?" Caleb's mind seemed to switch off. He was no longer doing what he would normally do. He felt scared as he suddenly looked as Caleb in a new way...with desire in his mind. A desire he had never had before. He wanted this man.

Larry smirked around his cigar as he could see Caleb's mind fighting the hypnotic triggers he'd been inserting since their initial conversations online. Once Larry knew Caleb had the skills he needed and he was single, Larry hatched his plan to build not just a house - but a home.

"It's OK, hon," Larry said, "It's time to let the new you out." With those words, Caleb immediately lit and stoked his cigar to life. As he pulled on the cigar, Caleb began taking on a more sultry look. His beard began thickening, along with a slight rounding of his cheeks.

After a few minutes, Caleb reached over and grabbed Larry - pulling him in for a deep, smoky kiss. Shaking his head, Caleb apologized saying, "I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me." Larry smiled then said, "There is nothing to apologize for, except for apologizing. You are going to want to do that and a lot more very soon."

Caleb couldn't stop pulling on his cigar, but managed to ask, "What are you talking about?" Larry responded, "I see there's still a bit of that straight bro in you, but that will be gone soon. May as well tell you the full truth as he ceases to exist." Caleb's eyes grew wide, but he couldn't stop smoking the cigar.

"I told you what I do, but I wasn't totally honest," Larry said, "My company recently developed technology to help the military make soldiers more compliant. During testing, I came across another potential use - changing someone's physical appearance."

"Why me?", Caleb asked. "Oh, I never knew it would definitely be you," Larry continued, "I interviewed several contractors, but once I saw you and we started talking - I knew you were the one. Lonely, wanting a change, could do the job, and handsome to start. Once I got you here, it was easy. I just put the compound in your food - and the highest concentration in the cigar you're smoking right now."

"This is bullshit!", Caleb exclaimed, as he glared toward Larry while sliding his smouldering cigar into his jaw with his tongue. "There he is!", Larry said excitedly, "I can see the dominance in your expression. Have you looked at yourself lately?" Caleb didn't know if he wanted to punch or pounce on Larry - his brain was totally fogged. Larry grabbed his hand and led him to a mirror.

As Caleb looked at himself, he couldn't help but to like what he saw. He had gained both muscle and fat, filling out his frame and face. His beard was thicker and hair on his arms and chest was darker and more full. He didn't want to like this, but his mind said it was right. He took a long pull on his cigar and exhaled. "Damn boy," he said, "You did it."

"Oh yeah," Larry said, "I knew this would work. Even calling me, boy! I knew those binurals I played each night in your room were working. Once the physical transformation took place, I just knew you'd settle right in, Daddy."

As Larry continued, he further explained how he was ready to settle down with the man of his dreams. The only problem was that he didn't exist. He knew he would take it into his own hands to create him. And he did. Caleb would continue to change, both physically and mentally.

The home Larry had Caleb build was to be their home. While most of Caleb's past would fade away, he remembered being the one who built their home and take constant pride in that fact. Larry, however, knew the truth and was just as proud of creating the daddy of his dreams. A barrell-chested, cigar-smoking, dominant, man's man - who would do anything for his boy and life partner.

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albrowsing · 4 days ago

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Quality Time

*PING* Rocco looked down and smiles. He'd been wondering what Carlo and their father had been up to for the past week. Ever since their mother left a couple of years back, their father had been relatively distant- choosing to spend his hours away from the office at the gym instead of at home with his sons. To be fair, Rocco had left the house at 18, and now at 24 he wasn't home as often as he'd hoped. Nonetheless, it took both boys by shock when their relatively distant father decided to take a month off of work to spend some "quality time" with his sons. Carlo got the first two weeks, and Rocco would have the second. What they were in for, their father wouldn't say.

Hey, Roc. Dad wants us all to meet up tonight. We're at the gym on Broad Street, meet us there in 30 minutes.

The text was odd, definitely different than the normally chipper tone his brother is known for having. There wasn't even a single emoji... Rocco had hoped that everything would go well, but from the curtness of Carlo's message, it wasn't looking good. He sighed, walking his lanky ass over to the closet and throwing on some clothes, wasting no time making the 20 minute walk down to Broad street. The dim neon glow of the Planet Jacked sign illuminated the front of the strip mall; at 9PM on a Wednesday, the gym was the only business open compared to the vacant suites and GameStop next door.

Rocco pulled open the door, pulling out his phone to text Carlo that he'd arrived. The response was immediate:

In the kettlebell room. Hurry up.

Something did feel off, but Rocco had dismissed it as an irritated Carlo trying to pawn their gruff and macho dad off on him. Neither were "manly men" by their father's standards, not that he'd ever treated them poorly by any means. It just meant that they had little to nigh in common with eachother, and little to build a very "buddy buddy" relationship on. But, at least he was making an effort.

Rocco made his way through the gym floor, weaving through benches and weight machines to the double glass doors that houses the calisthenics room. He pushed open the door, and walked inside. Right off the bat, his suspicions that something was off were proven to be justified as he saw his brother flexing in the mirror. Or at least, he thought it was his brother. The man had Carlo's likeness: his short stature, his green eyes, the black and green headphones... but this was not his brother.

Carlo was easily 100 lbs of muscle heavier than when he'd left with their father on Monday morning. His hair was buzzed short, his formerly friendly face now scowled an aggressive smoulder, his arms and legs were bursting with hard muscle. Compared to the 5'2" skinny 19 year old Rocco had known, this man might as well have been a stranger.

"Get my bag over there, gotta shower and change." His voice was harsh, gruff... as if he'd smoked eight cigars before working out. He remained flexing in the mirror, as Rocco stood there gobsmacked. His eyes quickly shifted from his physique to his brother standing perplexed at the door. "You gonna sit and stare or are we gonna get going?" Rocco slowly walked over to Carlo's gym bag, picking it up and straining to shlep it over his shoulder. "Jesus, Roc. We've got to get you into the gym. C'mon, let's go." Carlo turned and walked out of the room, with Rocco hastening to meet his pace.

"Uh, Carlo... Did you... take something? I mean, I'm not accusing you of anything, but how did you..."

"Get this fuckin' jacked? Dad helped out a bit." Outside of Rocco's eyesight, Carlo smirked devilishly. He sneered, hocking a mouthful of spit onto the garbage can. Rocco nearly dropped the bag and bolted. This couldn't be the sweet, naive little brother he'd grown up with. If anything, he was acting more like their father than himself. As they entered the locker room, Carlo stopped at the mirror again, pinching his chin as if he were checking himself out in the mirror. "Yeah, Dad was saying he wanted me to try some pussy this week, and that girls liked a guy with guns. Heh, it worked." He flexed his massive arms, the putrid scent of heavy unwashed musk wafted from his pits as he did. Rocco pinched his nose, dropping the gym bag onto the bench.

"Since when have you been interested in girls?" Rocco spoke with genuine concern in his voice. Carlo had been an out and proud gay man for years now. Their father never understood it, but it never really bothered him any. To him, as long as his sons were 'getting some' then all was well. But this, combined with Carlo's inflated ego and body...

"Since I felt like it. Thought I'd give breedin' a try. After six girls this week, I'm tuckered out." Carlo sauntered toward the shower stalls, tossing his hat and headphones to his brother before turning to face him. "Dad will be here in a minute, just wait here." With that, he walked into the stall, and Rocco could hear the water starting to flow. He fell backward onto the bench, awestruck. Turning to the bag, Rocco imagined vials and vials of steroids and testosterone hiding within. It was the only logical explanation. Taking a deep breath, he slowly unzipped the bag, and ripped the top open to reveal:

Nothing. Carlos' normal street clothes, albeit a bit stretched out now, and an empty shaker bottle. No drugs, no syringes, nothing incriminating whatsoever. Whatever had happened to him, it wasn't due to roid rage.

"NNNNUGUUHHHH" Carlo's voice echoed in the empty locker room over the sound of the showerhead. Rocco stood up quickly, darting toward the shower stalls. Before he could ask if his brother was okay, the noises began. Wet noises- unaffiliated with the running shower. Rocco slowly crept closer, and the sounds had become clearer. Slimy schlorps and squelches combined with Carlo's moans of seeming pleasure. Was he fucking a pocket pussy? Surely not, he assumed, though in the back of his mind, the brother he'd seen was not the Carlo he knew. "uuuuuuUUUUUUUUUUUUUNNAGHHHHHH!" One final moan and a rubbery slurp, and the room was silent again.

Rocco quickly rushed to the end stall, ready to rip the white curtain open, only for it to open on it's own: revealing the hulking figure of his father. The shock was palpable, as thick as the steam in the air. His father towered above him, as he always did, a massive slab of hard meat with a face. Sweat dripped from every part of his hulking body, and his face was already plastered with a surprised expression. As if he weren't expecting Rocco to see him yet.

"Dad... Is Carlo oka..." Suddenly, in the corner of his eye, he saw his brother slumped over on the shower seat, passed out under the hot streams of water: still in the shorts and running shoes he'd been wearing moments ago. His muscled body could barely bend at the waist, so his limp torso sat at a slight angle to the rest of his body. Rocco turned to his father, whose expression hadn't yet changed.

"I said I'd be there in a minute, Roc." The limber young man tried to rush to his passed out brother, only for the iron grip of his father to stop him in his tracks. "He'll be fine. He'll wake up just the way you know him, with a couple of extra pounds. Don't you worry."

"Dad, what the fuck is going on?" Rocco shouted at his father, whose brows began to furrow. The hulking man grabbed the white curtain, shutting it behind his son. Slowly the look of shock turned to one of seriousness, and a twinge of nervousness shot down Rocco's spine.

"I'm on vacation, Roc. With my boy. And now it's your turn to spend some time with your old man." Rocco took a step back, confused and anxious. "You're what, 24 now? Let me tell you something, Roc. When you hit 50, it doesn't matter if you're the sexiest god damn man alive- women just don't look at you the same. They take one look at you and see a stacked old man. They look at you like you're disgusting, Roc. I just wanted things to be the way they used to, when I was your age." Another step backward, and Rocco felt himself pinned against the wall. "It doesn't hurt. Carlo said it felt damn good. He'll wake up feelin' like a million bucks and go right back to sticking that greasy pole into some man ass. Might even be better than before. But you..." His father leaned in against the wall, the wafting stench of his BO encircling the two. "You swing both ways. So will you do your pop a favor, Roc?" Rocco swallowed his spit, as his father leaned in until they stood inches from eacother, eye to eye.

"W... What kind of favor?"

"Let me be young again. Just for a couple weeks. I'll hop back in Carlo if things get out of hand, he's already said he's good with it. Let your old man take you for a spin, show you how I used to do it back in the day. Then at the end of the month, I hop right out. Deal?" His father stuck his hand out, waiting for him to accept this insane deal. Rocco turned to his brother, slowly coming back to consciousness.

"... One week. And if you don't fuck things up, I'll think about the other two." His father smiled as Rocco shook his hand in agreement.

"Turn around, boy. And just take some deep breaths." Rocco did as he was told, slowly turning around and placing his hand onto the brown tiled wall. He could hear Carlo coming to, and hearing the wet clap of his father's hands rubbing together. "Alright, boy. It's gonna be tight, deep breath!" Rocco took a slow inhale, feeling a strange tingling sensation as he felt his father's hands on his bony shoulderblades. As he exhaled, he could feel the calloused hands slowly sink into his back. "Ohhhh, fuck." His father's gravelly bass voice growled in the cavernous room, soaring above the wet schlorps of his huge arms slowly sinking deeper into his son. Rocco watched as his father's hands appeared beneath the skin of his arms, the outline of his fingers sliding down his biceps and forearms was quickly followed by the sounds of rubbery creaks as his father's considerable muscles slid into his own. Bones cracked and skin stretched as powerful biceps and firm forearms swelled with the invasion, as his father's hands slipped into his own like two tight gloves. His meaty fingers cracked under their own volition, as his father flexed his new triceps.

"Da... Dad? Oh fuck, Roc! It's your turn now, huh, bro?" Carlo's chipper voice cut through the wet sloshing as his father stepped forward, shoving his huge sweaty feet forward into Rocco's heels, immediately swelling to fit his size 14 boats. His father's ripe foot sweat started to pour from his soles while his calves started to sink in as well. "Feels great, right? I mean look at me? Dad promised a rockin' bod, and I mean, fuck! What guy is gonna turn me down now?" Rocco continued his deep breaths, trying to ignore his brother's bizarrely normal demeanor.

"Boy, you remember what your dad taught you. Take control, and fuck hard. They'll be beggin' for that cock." As the words left his father's mouth, he thrust his groin against Rocco's rear, letting his son's skin wrap around his thick ass as he slid his beer can dick into the sheath of his boy's- quickly swelling thick and musky as his balls grew into the size of clementines.

"Roc, just wait. Dad's gonna take good care of you. We're closer than ever, right pop?" His father's hard, hairy torso sank quickly into Rocco, his back expanding as his body fully enveloped his father up to their necks. Massive, juicy pecs and washboard abs pressed against his taut skin, and sputterings of the old man's hair started to sprout across his legs, arms, and chest. Rocco looked down at his massive body, no longer under his control, inflated with his father's stature. He could feel the scratchy scruff of the old man's beard against the nape of his neck.

"Alright, boy. Let me just slide..." He felt his father's nose press against the back of his head, and as it sank in, his vision became fuzzy. "Right..." His neck bulged and stretched, his jaw clenched and sharpened. "On..." His hair grew thick and messy, his eyebrows fuller and lower. As the last of his head was swallowed by the back of Rocco's head, a final crack of his neck and a slow exhale signaled that Rocco had already sank into the recesses of his mind. Facial hair sprouted across his chiseled jawline, as he smiled his pearly white teeth. "In." His father's gravelly tone now bellowed deep from within. He pushed himself off the wall, stretching his now 6'3" body, dripping in his old man's fragrant sweat. Turning to Carlo, he raised his eyebrow.

"Alright, boy. Let's go get some ass."

---

"Yeah, this is my brother's place, we'll be alone here. Don't you worry!" Carlo led the couple into Rocco's apartment, the boyfriend ogling his juicy ass as they walked inside. "Yeah, he's in the other room. This way." Carlo smiled as he threw his arm around the duo, the woman blushing as she turned to him.

"You sure he's down for this?" Carlo only smirked as he opened the door to the bedroom, revealing 'Rocco' in all his glory, swiping through the endless supply of thirsty messages on his Taimi. The couple's jaws dropped at the very sight of him, fresh from the gym, smelling of a locker room right after a basketball tournament.

"Oh wow... Uh, Hi there... I'm Victoria and this is Ollie..." 'Rocco' barely looked up from his phone, picking up his ripe gym shoe and socks, and tossing them to Ollie.

"Sniff, boy. When you're done with that, you can do the same for my brother." The boyfriend eagerly started to huff the stinking sock, moaning in pleasure as he did. "And you..." He put his phone down onto the table, turning to Victoria with a wry smirk. "Come show daddy some love."

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