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billydinkins · 18 hours ago

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He’d always admired the hairy men—thick, rugged, feral types whose body hair spilled over tank tops, peeked out from their jeans, and left trails across bedsheets. He wanted to be that.

So when his friend sent him that hypnosis audio file—“Hair Awakening – Natural Masculinity Frequencies”—he was all in. The voice was deep and soothing, the rhythm of the track slow and oddly sexual. His friend had warned him: “Only listen once a day. Five times max. Any more and it can get… intense.”

But five listens came and went. Nothing.

Frustrated, needy, and half-hard with hope, he queued it up five more times. Ten loops. He wanted it now.

Two days later, he went on a solo hike in the woods behind his place to burn off the impatience. That’s when it began.

At first it was a warm buzz in his skin. Then it grew sharp—itchy, crawling, squirming heat racing across his chest and arms. He froze on the trail, groaning and gripping a tree trunk, legs wobbling. It felt like something alive was under his skin.

“Ahh—f-fuck…” he moaned, his voice suddenly raspier.

His arms jerked forward as hair began erupting from his pores—thick, dark, untamed—twisting across his arms, shoulders, and chest in wild, swirling trails. He yanked at his shirt, desperate to cool off, but the cotton clung to his sweat and new body hair.

He stumbled off the path, panting, stripping as he moved. Shirt—gone. Boots—kicked off. Pants—unzipped, dropped. His Fruit of the Looms clung tight to his swelling glutes and groin, dark hair already pushing out the sides.

“Oh god, it’s too much… this is too much…” he gasped, doubling over.

But it felt so good.

His back arched with a growl as a trail of thick fur raced down his spine like fire—spreading, curling, filling every bare patch. He moaned loudly, almost animalistic, grabbing his own ass as it itched and bloomed with fresh, wiry curls. His thighs thickened. His calves bristled with pelt-like fuzz. Even his toes darkened beneath a carpet of wild, coarse strands.

He stared at his body in shock and awe—practically trembling as the last clean parts of him vanished under a dense, masculine forest of hair.

His fingers gripped his waistband. His cock throbbed behind the fabric—hard, leaking, and aching beneath his bushy treasure trail. His whole body radiated heat. He was dripping sweat, musk, sex.

He ran his hand over his stomach and moaned—barely able to feel skin anymore, only fur. His beard thickened, creeping down his neck, connecting with the hair coating his chest.

His voice cracked with need. “I—ungh—should’ve listened—”

Another wave hit. A final burst. His entire ass flared with heat and tingling as hair grew even thicker there, wrapping around his thighs, his hole, crawling up the small of his back like vines claiming him.

He bucked. Gripped his jeans. Bit his lip and whispered, “Fuck yes…”

Then came silence. The breeze. Birds. His own ragged breath.

He stood alone in the woods—jeans at his knees, underwear caught on a thick, hairy ass, his body transformed into something almost inhumanly masculine.

And his cock still needed attention.

He looked back toward the trail. His keys jingled on his belt loop.

“…Who else might come by?”

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billydinkins · 18 hours ago

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