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chadgolden · 3 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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chadgolden · 3 months ago

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THE BOARDS IN THE ATTIC

William was just unpacking his boxes were all of his clothes were stored, he had moved recently from Illinois to California, more especially to San Diego.

His dad worked at a consulting company that made him move from time to time, this meant he didn't see his father as often as he would like to and he never had that much friends because he moved very frequently.

-"Hi Will do you need help buddy?"

William turned around to stare at his father with a shy smile in his face.

-"No dad I'm fine I can unpack all of this myself"

-"Ok son if you need something you can call me, I'm in the kitchen"

William continued unpacking when his dad left, for now only a pair of boxes were left to unpack so he decided to finish it tomorrow.

The house his dad had bought seemed from the outside as the typical American suburban home from the mid seventies and in the inside it was the same, weird colors and weird room arrangements, for all he knew the house may still have asbestos in the roof.

But it wasn't that bad, at least it wasn't the worst place his dad and him had stayed.

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David, Williams father prepared dinner very early that night, they both felt very tired because of the trip and all of the unpacking they had to do.

After eating they watched a movie in their flat screen tv and when they were finished both of them moved to the second floor ready to sleep in their beds.

But before they could sleep David forgot to put one of the boxes in the attic, William wanting to be helpful offered to help his dad with setting up and holding the latter.

His dad climbed with the box and came back shortly after, but he didn't came back empty-handed, his Dad slowly got down of the latter with a strange box in his hands, it looked old and had the year 1978 written in faded sharpie.

-"Look what I found son"

William didn't know how to react to the box, after all the old owners of the house told them that there was nothing from them left behind, maybe the box was property from an even older resident.

Without waiting for a word of his son, David grabbed a pair of scissors and passed it through the thin but old tape that sealed the box closed.

Inside a pair of skate boards was displayed, the boards looked old but they were still conserved from all the things that could have ruined them in the attic.

One of the boards had a red and black chess design while the other had a line pattern with the same colors as the first one.

William grabbed the first one while his dad grabbed the second one, both of them didn't know how to skate so they started to play around with them.

For the first time in for ever William and his dad had fun, when they got tired of falling from the boards they each went to their own room and turned off the lights, letting themselves fall into the arms of the night.

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As William slept things started to change in his body and around him.

His muscles and bones slowly changed and adapted as his body slowly grew leaving him at six feet tall.

The muscles in his arms grew to normal proportions giving him a lean body, his legs were the ones that grew with a higher degree of muscle thanks to years of skating.

His pecs slowly increased in size and in his abdomen area a six pack formed, his face became more boyish giving him a young and beautiful vibe.

The hair in his head turned into a curly blonde leaving him as a stereotypical cali skater from the seventies.

His room changed and cleaned itself, the tacky wallpaper of his room changed until it looked like it was new, all the technology from the present day disappeared including his smart phone and computer.

The plasma tv he had in his room changed into an older and boxy tv and all of the clothing in his closet changed into period clothes from the seventies.

Posters from bands were now displayed in his room as the changes came to a stop leaving William in a new era and body.

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Williams father David shaked uncontrollably in his bed, for some reason he couldn't sleep like he normally did.

What he didn't know was that his body was changing, his age slowly regressed leaving him at eighteen, the same age of his son.

The muscles in his arms and legs grew leaving him as a lean young teenager, the skin all over his body changed into an orange coloration.

The hair in his head became a platinum blonde color and the hair style changed into that of a normal seventies cut.

As what happened to his son's room all of the modern technology disappeared as it changed into seventies technology and all of his clothes changed into ones of the period.

His room also changed, now it was transported into the house next door, with the changes coming to their end David could finally fall asleep, not knowing what will await him tomorrow morning.

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The next morning William woke up from his bed, at first he didn't notice anything weird but then it came to him.

This was his new room but it looked different, he got up and tried to find his phone but he couldn't find it, as he passed the mirror in his room he looked at his reflection, the shirtless body of a blonde teen his age was locking back at him.

He rapidly tried to get out of the room and see what else had happened to the house and to himself, he grabbed a pair of white shorts, a blue sleeveless shirt and a pair of converse shoes, when he was done changing into the clothes he had grabbed he walked out of the room.

Everything around the house seemed normal even though it had changed in strange ways, as he walked he came face to face with a family picture that included him, he knew that this was his father and mom but at the same time he knew that wasn't the truth at all.

His gaze then came upon a calendar, the date it displayed was "July 1978" he couldn't believe he had gone back in time, as he looked at the calendar he started to care less about his predicament.

Slowly new memories started to enter his mind, his father apparently was now his next door neighbor which was also his best friend and skater buddy.

He now had the memories of growing up in California and skating under the hot summer sun.

Without a worry in the world William grabbed his skateboard from his room and opened the door that communicated withe the outside, the warm sun covered his skin as he skated like a pro around the cul-de-sac as he waited for his friend.

His best friend came out a few minutes later from his house and joined him in his skating session, he had no memory of being Williams dad or the future, he only remembered the present and maybe that wasn't bad at all, their new lives were great and they had never been as united as they were now.

----------------------------------------------------------This new series is called Changes in Time, what I want to do with it is touch and make stories about time travel transformation, something I would like to see more in Tumblr, so I have taken it into my own hands to complete and share.

#reality change #mental change #changes in time #age regression #time travel #male transformation #male tf #race change #straight to gay

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chadgolden · 3 months ago

Text

The Dumbbells

One moment I’m standing in my apartment carrying a pair of strange colorful dumbbells, the next I’m standing outside with the hot rays of the sun bathing my body, my eyes rapidly adjusted to the change of light and I was finally able to look around myself.

People walked around me completely ignoring me, but something wasn’t right, as I detailed them I noticed they were wearing beach clothes but these had weird patterns and obnoxiously bright colors.

Then my view concentrated on the road next to me, the cars that were passing by were the ones you would see in 80s movies and shows.

Before I could continue with my observations I started to feel sick, I dropped the dumbbells in the street and crumpled to the sidewalk as the pain consumed me.

For some reason nobody around me noticed me withering in pain on the floor, they just passed around me without trying to help me.

I took initiative and tried to get up, as I did I noticed that my view of everything was getting taller, I looked down at myself and saw that my stature was increasing.

As I continued getting taller the pajamas I was still wearing started to disintegrate and the few pieces of cloth that were left fell to the floor.

I tried to cover myself the best I could while my body continued changing, the next thing that happened was that all over my body muscles started to expand and harden.

In my arms my biceps, triceps and deltoids started to expand and grow, when they stopped growing they made me look like a freak thanks to their crazy proportions when compared to the rest of my body.

Next was my chest as it was replaced by a pair of rapidly ballooning pecs, then from underneath my stomach started to twist and turn as a well-defined eight pack formed.

The changes didn’t stop with my upper body as my legs were the next to change, my quadriceps, glutes and calves grew and stopped when they perfectly balanced my new upper musculature.

Then where my hands covered my shame I started to feel something pressuring them away, I removed them momentarily and saw that my dick was growing.

I tried to rapidly cover it again but it was difficult as it continued growing, but just as fast as it started it stopped, I looked at it and noticed it was significantly longer than before.

This wasn’t the last change as my skin started to form a tan and waxed itself, my face was next as it started to become more mature and handsome as my features rearranged themselves.

Then my short hair started to grow and became a messy clump on top of my head, for last the few leftover pieces of my pajamas started to float and attach to my body, a few of them attached to my crotch area and transformed into a speedo with the same tacky colors and patterns the people around me would wear.

The other pieces attached to my chest and back, they then transformed into a very striking yellow mesh crop top.

With the changes finished any sense of pain or sickness disappeared, I looked down at my new body with shock and amassment.

With my hand I started touching under the yellow mesh crop top but before I could continue exploring more a car started honking behind me.

I turned around and noticed that the dumbbells were still in the floor in front of an old Porsche 911 driven by a typical 80s executive with a huge brick phone attached to his ear, I walked toward the dumbbells an picked them up, then before the driver speeded away I walked toward the side of the car as I wanted to ask something to the driver.

-“What do you want you meathead”

This for some reason insulted me even though the body I now had wasn’t mine

-“What year is it buddy?”

The driver looked at me with a dumb expression as if asking me if I was serious, I only smiled and waited for his answer

-“Its 1986”

When that year came out of his mouth I walked away from the car and started to process what he had told me, somehow I had been transported into the year 1986 and transformed into a bodybuilder?

I moved to the side and permitted the car to move away, I stayed there for a while in the sidewalk trying to form a plan on how to get back to the future and to my body.

Suddenly I felt as if a huge weight was lifted from my arms, I looked down at the dumbbells and noticed that they had disappeared, in my hands the only things that were left was some key cars.

I pressed the key button and a car somewhere beeped, I pressed it again and paid attention to where the beep was coming from, I then found out where it was coming from, it was from a white Lamborghini Countach parked a few meters away from me.

I walked toward it and got in, I then inserted the key and heard the engine roar to life, I drove out of the parking space and started driving around as I really didn’t know where to go.

I then searched the cars glovebox and found a wallet, I opened it and looked at its contents, inside there was a license with the new me in a picture, the name in the license told me that I was now “Angelo Moretti” another thing I noticed was that apparently I'm now thirty years old.

-“Angelo Moretti”

When I said out loud the name with my new accented deep voice I felt a little headache expanding in my head, even though it was painful it didn’t last long.

As the pain subsided I started driving automatically to an unknown location, as I drove the signs in the highway told me that I was now in Miami Beach instead of my home city of Chicago.

After a while of driving I entered a residential area with huge houses and exotic cars parked in the driveways, this was obviously a very high class and rich neighborhood.

I finally stopped the car in front of a beautiful mansion, as I looked at the mansion I slowly started to feel as if the mansion in front of me was mine, I even remembered buying it a few years ago when I first arrived in Miami.

With a new sense of belonging infiltrating my mind I drove my car into the driveway and walked towards the entrance, I opened the door and gazed at the best lavish interiors the 80s could offer.

Everything was colorful and weird but it all felt natural, I walked towards the living room and turned on the television, what greeted me was news about President Ronald Regan.

I internally laughed as the whole situation just seemed dumb, how could this have happened? How is I even possible to go back a few decades and become the walking Adonis I am now?

Then a phone started ringing, I walked toward the wall where I found a wall found, I picked it up and said “Hello” with my new deep voice that aroused me the more I used it.

-“Ciao figliolo come stai?” (“Hi son how are you?”)

Once I heard that voice in what I now know is Italian I smiled and responded back without control

-“ Ciao papà sto bene e tu?” (“Hi Dad I’m good and you?”)

I kept talking in Italian to the man I now recognized as my father, every time he talked about past events I started to remember them, I now could recall being born and raised in Rome and moving to the United States to better pursue a career as a bodybuilder with the help of my Dad and his publishing business.

A few minutes later our called ended, I put the phone back on the wall and walked toward the master bedroom.

As I got up the stairs I noticed that the layout of the house felt natural to me, it wasn’t like walking in a stranger’s house but walking in one’s own house.

Once I arrived at a pair of double doors I pushed them and walked inside, the room was even more 80s looking if that’s even possible, the roof was a huge mirror, next to a king sized bed in the middle of the room was a Jacuzzi, the floor was covered in a silky carpet and weird colorful pattern paintings were displayed in the wall.

This room should have repulsed me but it didn’t, I tried to compare the interior of this room to the one of my studio but I couldn’t, it was as if an impenetrable wall couldn’t let me peek to the other side.

As I couldn’t really remember I decided not to dwell in my memories, I then walked toward the closet where I removed what I was wearing and started posing naked at the wall sized mirror.

I made different positions and flexed my muscles in different ways, as I did memories of being on a stage with other muscled men formed in my head.

As I continued flexing my hands started to move towards my longer dick, as I grabbed my member it rapidly increased in size, this made me grunt with my deep voice which made me even more aroused.

I started to pump my dick and as I did even more grunts left my mouth

I pumped up and down for what felt like forever until I finally cummed into the mirror and floor, I cleaned everything with a pair of wipes and walked towards the bed.

I looked at the time and it was almost six thirty, I didn't feel hungry but I was sleepy.

I grabbed from one of the nightstands a leopard patterned bath robe and jumped into the bed, sleep came to me quickly.

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The sound of a beeping alarm woke me up, I got up the bed and walked towards the bathroom, I grabbed my toothpaste and started washing my teeth.

I looked in the mirror and with surprise I noticed that the reflection of Angelo Moretti was looking back at me.

I ran out of the bathroom and found that I was in the same 80s bedroom as yesterday and in the same body of that of a rich thirty year old Italian bodybuilder.

I woke up expecting that whatever happened yesterday was a dream, but apparently I really was stuck in 1986 in another man's life.

Without any idea of how to make everything go back to normal I decided to tap into my memories to see what my daily routine was.

Today I was running to the gym which was three kilometers away, once I arrived there I would do some exercises, after that I would go to a photo studio because a company wanted me to model some of their clothes and at nine I had a party with a my neighbors.

All in all it was a busy day so I decided to act fast, I walked towards the closet and grabbed a white tank top and a pair of turquoise running shorts

I then showed and took my time as I continued to explore my new body with amazement and happiness, when I finished I putted on the clothes I selected earlier.

I then walked to the first floor and into the kitchen as I needed to drink a primitive protein shake.

From a table next to the front entrance I also grabbed a Sony Walkman and putted the headphones on my ears, what came blasting to me was a rock track perfect for running.

When I finished doing everything I got out of the house and started running.

I ran for what felt like a long time but I never broke a sweat, as I ran around different neighborhoods the 80s esthetics were more visible, old or in this case brand "new" cars cruised in the streets.

And just like me people were wearing colorful tacky clothes, news about the Soviet Union was being played in a tv store with old tv staked on top of one another

It was like a movie set that perfectly recreated the era, but it was all real, everything around me was true, it wasn't fiction, it was reality.

After running for a while I finally stopped in front of a gym, even though it was my first time there everything felt familiar.

I walked in and some people recognized me, they talked to me and complimented my muscles, these people were stranger's to me but now I could rapidly remember their names and some things about them.

When the warming welcome from everyone was over I walked to the far end of the gym.

As I walked there another guy started fallowing me, once the both of us were at the back of the gym he started to talk to me.

-"You too?"

-"What?"

-"The Dumbbells, they did this to you didn't they"?

I looked at the guy with surprise, how could this beast of a bodybuilder know that I didn't belong here and that some dumbbells did this to me?

-"How did you know?"

-"Well that confused face you had when everyone was talking to you was a dead giveaway and that you seem to be very observant about your surroundings even though you seem to be a regular here"

-"You too are from the future"?

-"Yes, I was at my office when some colorful Dumbbells arrived in a box, once I lifted them from the box I was suddenly in a treadmill and painfully transforming into who I am now, Oh I forgot to tell you, I'm Jhonny Mills"

-"Well I'm Angelo Moretti, hey how is this even possible, is there a way to go back?"

-"I think it's impossible, I've been here for six months, I've tried everything but the dumbbells just disappeared, I know they somehow are responsible for this but without one can only guess and do you really want to go back?, Isn't your new life a little better?

-"It is but this life isn't mine"

-"This life wasn't mine either, neither the life of almost everyone here"

"What do you mean?"

-"The major of the people here are from the future, they found a pair of dumbbells and the rest is history, the huge majority were like you but they forgot their past selves pretty quickly, the more they searched the more they forgot, I decided to embrace what happened, thats why I still remember a few things about my old self.

I sat down in the floor and started thinking, I tried to think about who I was before but I couldn't even remember my old name, my old life was really foggy but Jhonny might be right, is it really that bad whatever those dumbbells did?, I am living in a time that isn't mine but I'm rich and have a hot body.

Without many options I decided to accept my fate, it's better for me to just simply adapt to my new situation, I got up and walked with Jhonny towards the bench press.

As Jhonny helped me use the machine, I couldn't stop thinking that maybe being trapped in 1986 as Angelo Moretti isn't that bad.

Granted I'm a whole different person but I'm starting to feel more normal with my new self, as Jhonny helped me I smiled, I'm ready for whatever 1986 throws at me.

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I had this story on the works for what felt like forever, I love time travel transformations and I promise that more stories like this are in my plans.

I hope you guys like it! 😉

#reality change #age progression #race change #solo story #time travel #male transformation #male tf #straight to gay #mental change

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chadgolden · 3 months ago

Text

Trying It Out

-"Are you ready?" Asked Rajandeep, Sam's Sikh best friend and roommate.

-"Yes, I'm almost ready!" Said Sam as he adjusted his hair and looked at the mirror in order to see that his shirt and jeans were in perfect condition.

-"Hey Raj do I look good?" Asked Sam as he opened the bathroom door and pointed at what he was wearing.

Raj who was seating at his desk on his laptop looked back at Sam and observed his clothes.

-"You look okay Sam" Said Raj with a reassuring tone.

-"Are you sure? I'm worried that I'm wearing something very casual and not appropriate" Said Sam with worry in his voice.

-"Sam you look great, why are you so worried? We are just going out to eat something with my parents at their house" Said Raj.

-"I know, it's just that I want to cause a good impression in them" Said Sam as adjusted his belt.

-"Sam, I promise you my parents aren't that demanding" Said Raj as he got up from his seat.

-"Are you sure?" Asked Sam.

-"Yes, and you are forgetting the point, whatever my parents think about you doesn't matter at all, you've already caused a good impression on me and that's all that matters" Said Raj now standing directly in front of Sam.

-"Do you really believe that?" Asked Sam.

-"But of course, when I started this semester I thought I would be completely alone as this college didn't have any other Sikh students or faculty but when I met you the first night in this dorm and you happily introduced yourself without any fear or prejudice believe me when I say that I knew you and me were going to be great friends" Said Raj with a smile as he playfully punched Sam in the shoulder with his muscled arm.

-"Aw, thanks man, I was also asking you if I look good because if I'm sincere you have a great sense of fashion" Said Sam as he passed one of his hands in the area where Raj had punched him.

-"Yeah well when you have a colorful turban in your head at all times it's useful that whatever you wear matches with it" Said Raj.

-"What turban do you think would match my clothes?" Asked Sam with curiosity.

Raj moved away from Sam towards his closet, as he opened the door he retrieved a small box that was filled to the brim with a huge variety of colorful turbans.

-"Maybe this pink one, it matches with your shirt" Said Raj as he hold the turban in the air and compared its color to what Sam was wearing.

-"Do you think I could wear it, just to see how it looks on me?" Asked Sam in a low voice.

For a moment the whole room was filled with silence as nor Sam or Raj said a word.

-"Shit I shouldn't have asked that" Said Sam as he realized what he had said.

-"No don't be embarrassed, it's just that it's a religious thing and I don't think it's appropriate..." Said Raj.

-"I'm sorry thought" Said Sam as he sat down in his bed.

Raj looked down at the pink turban and then back at Sam.

-"Well if you really want to try it out I don't see something wrong with it" Said Raj as he stored the box filled with turbans in his closet and retrieved the necessary tools to put on a turban on Sam's head.

-"Are you sure?" Asked Sam

-"Yeah I mean what is the worst that could happen" Said Raj as he closed his closet and walked towards Sam.

-"Do I need to do something with my hair before you put the turban on my head?" Asked Sam with curiosity.

Raj looked at Sam's hair and immediately noticed a problem.

-"It's going to be hard to put it on as you don't have a lot of hair in your head" Said Raj as he tried to think about how to resolve the problem but before he could do so he remembered that he also forgot something else.

-"Wait here a second, I forgot to get a patka" Said Raj as he walked to his closet.

-"What is a patka?" Asked Sam.

-"It's a small layer of cloth that you put over your hair, in the majority of scenarios it's optional but I use it constantly" Said Raj as he grabbed a large black cloth from the closet.

-"Another question, why is it important that you have long hair?" Asked Sam.

-"Well it's one of the principles of Sikhism, the idea is that by not cutting your hair and letting it grow naturally you are respecting God's creation" Said Raj as he closed the closet door.

-"Oh" Said Sam as the brown hair on top of his head started to grow and grow until it reached below his shoulders.

-"But you don't have to worry about that, some Sikhs actually cut their hair because of many reasons, at this point in time it's an optional thing" Said Raj as he turned around towards Sam.

-"Is something wrong?" Asked Sam as he noticed the weird way Raj was looking at him.

-"No it's just that I thought you had short hair" Raj pointed out.

Sam looked down at himself and noticed that his hair was extremely large, at first this was weird to him but he suddenly remembered that he had always had long hair as he didn't really like cutting it.

-"Um... I think this is how it has been since forever" Said Sam with full confidence in his statement.

-"If you say so" Said Raj as he approached Sam again.

-"Hey does the hair thing apply to the rest of the body as well?" Asked Sam as Raj placed himself in front of him.

-"It also varies, for example, I shave my body but other Sikhs prefer to leave it as it is" Said Raj as he placed all of his utensils next to Sam on the bed, Once Raj had done that he grabbed Sam's hair with both hands and started to pull it upwards to the top of his head.

While Raj was doing that Sam's previously hairless body became covered in a thick coat of black hairs, this included Sam's face but the hair in that area didn't grow as much as in the rest of his body.

-"Hey man I thought you shaved this morning" Said Raj as he noticed that Sam now had a five o'clock shadow.

Sam touched his cheeks and chin and was momentarily startled by the tickling sensation the hairs produced in his skin as he touched them.

-"I do remember shaving this morning, maybe my hair is just growing a little faster than usual" Said Sam as he internally shrugged the whole situation.

Raj continued doing his thing on Sam's hair despite his worries that something was weird and out of place, after he had pulled all of the hair together he started twisting it, once that was done Raj proceeded to twist the already twisted rope of hair into itself.

-"Now it's time for the patka" Though Raj as he grabbed the square-shaped black cloth and placed it on top of Sam's head after that was done Raj then tied the cloth around Sam's compressed hair.

-"The patka is now officially done" Said Raj as he moved back from Sam and made him walk towards the bathroom mirror.

-"Wow this looks strange, but in a good way" Said Sam as he looked at the weird thing on top of his head, while Sam continued looking at the patka Raj noticed that Sam seemed to be much taller than before.

-"Hey Sam can you stand here next to me for a moment?" Asked Raj.

-"Sure" Said Sam as he moved away from the mirror and positioned himself next to Raj.

-"Is it me or are we almost the same height? Asked Raj as he compared his height with Sam's.

-"Last time I checked I'm around six feet two" Said Sam.

-"That doesn't seem right" Said Raj as he continued looking at Sam.

-"What are you talking about Raj, I've always been a little smaller than you but taller than the average guy" Said Sam

-"Sorry Sam, maybe my mind is just playing tricks with me, go back to the bed so that I can put your turban on" Said Raj as he dismissed the weird height situation.

-"Okay" Said Sam as he walked towards the bed, what he and Raj couldn't see was that the hair on top of Sam's head which was covered by the patka changed in color from brown to black.

-"Let's get this over with" Said Sam as he sat down in the bed.

Raj moved closer to Sam and grabbed the pink turban from the bed, after much delay Raj started wrapping it around Sam's patka.

-"Hey Raj I wanted to ask you something" Said Sam as the folds of the turban were neatly wrapped around his head.

-"Ask away" Said Raj as he concentrated on his wrapping technic

-"When do you start going to the gym again? I miss our weekly exercise routines and going to the gym alone is no fun" Said Sam.

-"Umm....well this week I've had a few finals so I'm planning on starting next week when I'm free" Said Raj as his mind debated if he had ever gone to the gym with Sam.

-"Great!" Said Sam in a chipper tone as his whole body started bulking up, his legs now sported large quadriceps, hamstrings, and calves, in Sam's torso a beautifully crafted six pack formed and in his chest, two boulders of muscle ballooned out of the previously flat surface, in Sam's noodle arms two large and juicy biceps formed and while that happened his forearms also grew more muscle.

-"I'm almost done buddy" Said Raj.

-"Okay, take your time" Said Sam with strain in his voice as his new muscles were about to explode out of his smaller clothes, this embarrassing situation was rapidly avoided as Sam's clothes miraculously adapted to his new musculature by growing a few sizes.

-"There, I think I did a great job of I do say so myself" Said Raj as he moved away and crossed his hands while a smile was displayed on his face.

-"Well I'll be the judge of that" Said Sam as he got up from the bed and yet again looked at himself in the bathroom mirror.

-Wow Raj you really did a good job, thanks for the help, normally I'm good at doing this myself but for some reason, I felt a little clunky today" Said Sam.

-"Wait what do you mean about doing this myself?" Asked Raj as he moved closer to Sam.

-"My turban dummy" Said Sam.

-"But Sam you've never used a turban before, I borrowed you mine and put it in your head because you were curious" Said Raj in a worried tone.

-"How can that be, I'm a Sikh just like you Raj, I've always worn a turban" Said Sam.

-"That can't be true Sam you aren't a Sikh, last time I checked you were agnostic" Said Raj as he tried to rationalize the whole situation.

-"Raj, I was born in Punjab to two Sikh parents, I really don't know what makes you think I'm not a Sikh and a devoted one at that" Said Sam as he turned around to look at Raj.

-"But you were born here in Maine" Said Raj as he looked at Sam's face.

Sam's previously white complexion was now a rich brown, his eyes which were previously green were also now a deep brown, his five o'clock shadow had transformed into a lush and healthy beard, he even had a stylized mustache just like Raj's, to add to the mystery Sam's Caucasian features were now replaced by Punjabi/Indian ones.

-"How can you say that Raj? I'm proud to have been born in Punjab just like you" Said Sam with a very noticeable Punjabi influence to his accent.

-"Sam this just isn't true, I knew I shouldn't have offered you a turban" Said Raj as his mind started to go crazy.

-"Firstly, who the hell is Sam, my name is Sabjeet, and secondly, did you hit your head today or something?" Asked Sabjeet a little worried about his friend's apparent confusion.

When Raj heard the name Sabjeet a flood of memories entered his mind, ever since he immigrated from Punjab in India to Maine he felt alone so imagine his happiness when he met Sabjeet, his roommate for the next five years and the only other Sikh guy in College, ever since then they had been inseparable and had gathered the attention of the rest of the school as the handsome forbidden fruits from India.

-"I'm sorry Sab, today I've been feeling a little weird, how could I've forgotten who you are when we've shared the same room for the past six months" Said Raj now relieved as everything seemed to be in order.

-"I completely understand Raj, maybe your just a little bit stressed because of your finals and that affected you in some way" Said Sab as he now stood in front of Raj.

-"Yeah your right" Said Raj as his phone suddenly started to ring.

-"Shit that must be my mom" Said Raj as he accepted the call.

- "ਰਾਜਨਦੀਪ, ਤੁਸੀਂ ਕਿੱਥੇ ਹੋ? ਖਾਣਾ ਪਹਿਲਾਂ ਤੋਂ ਤਿਆਰ ਹੈ" (Rajandeep, where are you? The food is already ready) Said Raj's mother with anger/worry in her voice.

- "ਅਫਸੋਸ ਮੰਮੀ, ਅਸੀਂ ਬੱਸ ਉਥੇ ਹੀ ਜਾ ਰਹੇ ਸੀ" (Sorry Mom, we were just about to head over there) Said Raj.

- "ਕੀ ਸਬਜੀਤ ਤੁਹਾਡੇ ਨਾਲ ਹੈ?" (Is Sabjeet there with you?) Asked Raj's mother.

- "ਹਾਂ" (Yes) Said Raj.

- "ਉਸਨੂੰ ਦੱਸੋ ਮੈਂ ਕੁਝ ਮੁਰਗੀ ਦਾ ਟਿੱਕਾ ਬਣਾਇਆ" (Tell him I made some chicken tikka) Said Raj's mother.

- "ਠੀਕ ਹੈ ਮੰਮੀ ਮੈਂ ਉਸਨੂੰ ਦੱਸਾਂਗਾ, ਮੈਂ ਤੁਹਾਨੂੰ ਲਗਭਗ ਵੀਹ ਮਿੰਟਾਂ ਵਿੱਚ ਮਿਲਾਂਗਾ, ਬਾਈ" (Okay mom I'll tell him, I'll see you in around twenty minutes, bye) Said Raj as he hung up the call.

-"What did she say?" Asked Sab.

-"That the food is ready and that she made some chicken tikka" Said Raj.

-"Wow, let's get going then, it's been a long time since I've eaten one of those" Said Sab with a smile as he remembers Punjab, his forever home.

-"I agree, let's go" Said Raj as he opened the dorm room's main door, once Raj and Sab were at the other side they closed the door and started running through the desolate hallways in order to arrive at Raj's parent's house before the food became cold.

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This story was loosely inspired by a CYOC set of stories, hope you guys like it 😁.

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#reality change #race change #mental change #solo story #male transformation #male tf #straight to gay #transformation #himbo

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chadgolden · 3 months ago

Text

Living The Cold War

-"Jesus!" Said Vincent out loud as he observed a giant mannequin wearing what appeared to be a military uniform of the old Soviet Union.

-"It's incredible isn't it?" Asked someone behind Vincent which made him turn around.

-"Indeed" Said Vincent as he observed the elegantly dressed old man that had interrupted him.

-"Sorry if I scared you" Said the old man as he offered his hand to Vincent -"My name is Larry, I'm the organizer of the event".

-"Hi Im Vincent" Said Vincent as he shook Larry's hand -"Let me just say that it's amazing the amount of clothing and small items that you've collected" Vincent timidly said as he looked around the exhibition hall which was filled with different military-type uniforms that spanned in time from the beginning and end of the twentieth century.

-"Thanks!" Said Larry with a smile "It's good to know that some people find such happiness in old things like these".

-"How could I not?" Asked Vincent -"I recently graduated college with a history major and now I'm working at the local high school a few blocks down from here"

-"That makes sense..." Said Larry -"Well it's good to meet another man of culture".

-"Can I ask how you got all of this?" Said Vincent as he turned around and looked back specifically at the Soviet uniform -"If you don't mind".

-"Not at all" Said Larry as he prepared to say his story -"My Dad and Grandfather both served during WW1 and WW2, as the years passed they bought some of these uniforms and stored them in the basement, they loved to show them to me when I was a child which filled me with curiosity and love for history" Larry Said with a little bit of melancholy in his eyes -"Because of that I also decided to study history once I was able to enter college, when I graduated a few years later I started working as a university professor and also began to collect my own set of uniforms".

-"That's great" Mumbled Vincent as he continued observing the Soviet uniform.

-"I see that this uniform, in particular, has caught your attention" Said Larry.

-"Yes, it's kinda cool" Said Vincent -"Is it a military uniform?"

-"Nop, it's a Moscow police uniform from the early 70s, I bought it when I visited Russia a few years after the collapse of the USSR". Larry said.

-"Oh..." Said Vincent rather amazed as at that time he wasn't even born.

-"But yes the uniform in a way is very military-inspired, the police in the USSR was simply called the "militia" which exemplifies its military origin, some countries of the Warsaw pact also used this term when referring to their own national police forces, in terms of ranks, ceremonies, and even procedures the army and police weren't that different, the only big difference was that the police was focused in more civilian matters" Said Larry without skipping a beat.

-"So much history in one single uniform..." Said Vincent as larry finished his monologue.

-"Yes..." Larry said.

-"Tomorrow I have to start teaching my students about the cold war, It be great if they were as interested in these kinds of topics as us, if I had the chance I would have loved to experience the cold war knowing that it never turned hot" Said Vincent as he looked at his phone and stored it back in his pocket -"I better get out of here, it's kinda late".

-"Okay, I'm going to close this place down anyways, would you wait for me?" Asked Larry.

-"Sure!" Said Vincent as he got out of the small local and sat down in a wooden chair next to the entrance, a few other people also walked out of the local as Larry explained to them that it was closing time.

Once twenty minutes had passed since Vincent sat down on the chair Larry walked out of the store with a giant white box in hand.

-"Hey, thanks for waiting for me!" Said Larry.

-"It's okay!" Said Vincent "Do you need help with that?" Asked Vincent while watching Larry struggle to use his keys as he had to carefully balance himself in order to not let the box fall to the floor.

-"Sure!" Said Larry with a cheeky smile as Vincent got up from the wooden chair and grabbed the box, once Larry's hands were free from the weight of the box he proceeded to close the door of the local.

-"Well I guess it's time to say goodbye" Said Vincent as he still carried the white box.

-"Yes but I have a proposition for you" Said Larry as he turned to face Vincent -"After thinking about it I've decided to borrow you some of my uniforms so that you can show them to your students tomorrow"

-"Really?" Asked Vincent with excitement.

-"Yes, once you are done using them you can take them to my house and I can show you my private collection of more delicate items, I've stored a small piece of paper that has my address written on it inside the box" Said Larry as he smiled while Vincent thanked him.

-"Thank you so much!" Said Vincent as he slightly opened the box and saw a dozen or so uniforms-"Im sure my students will be pleased"

-"I hope so, anyway have a great night!" Said Larry as he patted Vincent on the back and started walking towards his car.

Meanwhile, Vincent sat down on the wooden chair and rapidly started to review each one of the uniforms, after a while, he reached the end of the pile and found the Moscow police uniform that had previously caught all of his attention.

-"Yes!" Thought Vincent as he touched the material the uniform was made of, it was soft but at the same time, it sported a very utilitarian feel to it.

After a while of exploration Vincent closed the white box and got up from the wooden chair, he then proceeded to walk towards his car and once he was inside he turned on the engine and drove home through the relatively empty streets of his hometown.

-"It must be late if there's no one out" Thought Vincent as he looked at the time on his phone, he was surprised as it was almost nine.

Because of this Vincent floored the pedal and after a few minutes of driving, he finally reached his small apartment complex.

Vincent parked his car in a free space close to his unit and then grabbed the white box before opening the car door and leaving.

After Vincent had verified that his car was locked he rapidly walked towards the door of his apartment, once he reached the door he opened it and bolted towards his bedroom after closing it.

Vincent then removed some of the uniforms from the box and placed them on the bed, he then proceeded to take a few pictures in order to send them to the principal of the school.

-V"Hi Jim, I wanted to tell you that I was borrowed these uniforms, I'm going to use them for tomorrow's class about the cold war, is that okay?"

Almost immediately Jim responded to Vincent's message.

-J"Wow, where did you get them?"

-V"Remember that place I told you about?"

-J"Yes, what about it?"

-V"I met the owner and he agreed to borrow me some of the uniforms after I explained to him that tomorrow I have to give a class about the cold war"

-J"Oh!"

-V"Is it okay if I use them tomorrow?"

-J"Yes sure, I think it's a good way to make students more interested in the topic"

-V"Thanks Jim, I promise that it won't disappoint!"

-J"Okay, have a great night!"

-V"Thanks!"

Once the conversation ended Vincent proceeded to carefully put the uniforms back in their box, after a while of doing this only one was left.

-"You again?" Though Vincent as he looked at the giant Moscow police uniform which almost covered all of his bed, for some reason as Vincent grabbed the uniform in order to place it inside the box he had a sudden urge he couldn't fully explain.

Vincent walked towards his bathroom with the uniform and turned on the lights.

-"I shouldn't be doing this!" Though Vincent as he knew that the uniform was at least fifty years old and that if he did a sudden movement when wearing it he could easily tear it.

After a small internal debate, Vincent decided to wear the uniform but only for a short while, because of this he removed his shirt, jeans, shoes, and socks the only thing he didn't remove was his underwear.

When Vincent had folded his clothing and placed them on top of the closed toilet lid he then only grabbed the coat part of the uniform and very slowly pushed his skinny arms through the sleeves.

Once his arms were fully enveloped Vincent proceeded to arch his back and then slightly move to each side as the coat effortlessly slid through his upper body.

-"Shit, I look like a kid using his dad's clothes" Thought Vincent as he looked at himself in the mirror and noticed the end of the coat almost reached his knees.

-"I would kill to meet the guy who wore this" Vincent thought as he started removing the coat from his arms -"He must have been some sort of giant"

When Vincent had finally been able to remove the coat he carefully folded it and placed it next to the rest of the uniform.

-"Let's get you back to your place" Said Vincent out loud to himself as he walked towards the white box with the uniform in hand.

As Vincent arrived at his bed he put the uniform next to the white box as he opened it, suddenly as he was about to grab the uniform in order to place it in the box a huge sudden flash blinded him.

-"What the hell?" Snapped Vincent as his eyes adjusted to the brightness, what he saw immediately surprised him, the Moscow police uniform was floating in the air next to him and it was glowing in a weird angelic way.

When Vincent's eyes fully adjusted to his new surroundings he noticed that he was floating in some sort of shining white void and that his underwear had disappeared leaving him stark naked, the brightness of the void was incredibly high, so much so that Vincent's eyes started hurting a little.

-"Am I dead?" Asked Vincent as he noticed that the uniform was still next to him -"Where am I?"

For a moment nothing happened, Vincent's fully naked body continued floating around with the uniform accompanying him.

Suddenly in the complete silence of the void, Vincent heard a loud cracking noise similar to that of a piece of wood being broken, then Vincent felt a small amount of pain as he noticed that the cracking had originated somewhere in his body.

Before Vincent could recover a huge amount of pain rolled over his body as it slowly grew upwards which meant that his bones and muscles had to break and restructure themselves to better adapt to his new actively growing body.

When Vincent's height reached six feet seven his body finally stopped growing, once that happened Vincent's body felt at peace again as any pain he was previously feeling disappeared.

This however wasn't the end of the changes as all over Vincent's body new muscles grew and grew with each second.

Vincent's legs in a blink of an eye went from being skinny to heavily muscled and filled with rivers of visible veins.

What was most surprising was the growth of Vincent's thighs which were now double their normal size.

Now that Vincent's legs were completely transformed he suddenly felt a weird pulling sensation from his behind and his private area.

"What the...Oh!" Said Vincent as he felt his ass slowly growing and hardening with muscle, meanwhile, in Vincent's private area his dick became erect and started to expand in girth and grow to an impressive nine inches.

From there the changes went upwards through Vincent's flat abdomen area which quickly developed a defined eighth pack, further upwards Vincent's small moobs receded into his chest leaving behind a flat surface which was rapidly replaced by the growth of two large and juicy pecs.

-"Fuck!" Said Vincent as he noticed the large boulders that had grown out of nothing, as he did that the changes moved towards his arms, his small biceps quickly grew larger than ever before, and his forearms quickly followed as new muscle also grew in them.

As the changes continued Vincent started flexing his new biceps -"My God!" He thought as the giant ball of muscle became more prominent and a few veins became visible.

While Vincent continued flexing his biceps he suddenly felt a weird sensation in his neck, this was due to the sudden growth of his adam's apple which gave him a more macho/deep voice.

Once Vincent's adam's apple had stopped growing the changes quickly progressed through his face.

Vincent felt his bones and facial structure moving themselves into new positions, this gave him a more defined jaw and a more manly/older-looking appearance.

Suddenly Vincent felt as his nose produced a cracking noise as it became "perfect" and straight, meanwhile his irises changed in color to a deep black that could easily hypnotize anyone looking at them.

Vincent then felt like a razor was passing through his scalp as he could perfectly see dozens of small hairs falling from his head and changing in color to a chestnut tone.

Once the buzzing sensation in Vincent's scalp had disappeared his hair was left in a military-style buzz cut.

-"Is it over?" Thought Vincent as the changes seemed to stop but in fact, they hadn't, this was made obvious as Vincent's skin became a little paler and the few hairs he had all over his body started to also detach themselves and disappear into the white void, the only areas left untouched where his pits which now had even more hairs than before and around his larger set of balls.

With Vincent's body now fully transformed the floating uniform next to him started to place itself around his naked body.

Firstly a pair of white and cheap underwear placed itself around Vincent's behind and private area, this was followed by a pair of simple white socks which now covered Vincent's larger feet.

A pair of large grey pants rushed to Vincent's legs and after a little bit of struggle they now easily covered his larger legs while still showing the strong muscles underneath, the pants also had a belt around them that carried a badge, Identification papers, and a loaded gun.

Then a large white button-up shirt placed itself around Vincent's muscled body, the small plastic buttons automatically buttoned themselves without any intervention, once the shirt was secured around Vincent's body a small black tie flew towards his neck and quickly tied itself around it.

The large grey coat Vincent had previously worn then flew and placed itself on top of the white shirt, the golden buttons of the coat also buttoned themselves automatically.

Vincent's hands then became covered by a pair of leather gloves and his feet were now protected by a pair of large and very tightly fastened leather boots.

Lastly, Vincent's buzz cut became covered by a large grey ushanka winter hat that had the seal of the USSR plastered on it in a small button-like object.

With Vincent's body now being completely covered with the uniform the brightness of the white void exponentially increased, so much so that Vincent was left blinded again.

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When the world became visible again Vincent immediately noticed that instead of standing in his bedroom he was standing in a small living room that had retro-looking decorations and furniture.

The room looked like one Vincent had seen in a documentary about Soviet architecture and interior design.

Vincent then walked through the rest of the apartment with a little bit of a struggle as his larger body made it difficult to walk through the small corridors that connected each of the rooms of what appeared to be a one-bedroom apartment.

After a while, Vincent was able to find a full-body mirror in the bedroom that permitted him a perfect view of the six-foot-seven muscled behemoth he now was.

-"Как это вообще возможно?"(How is this even possible?) Said Vincent who immediately noticed that he was speaking fluent Russian instead of his native English.

-"Hell...Hello..." Vincent said as he tried to speak in English but to no avail, his tongue was now completely predisposed to speak Russian and the thoughts that flew around his mind were also in Russian.

Vincent quickly gave up trying to speak English as the last piece of knowledge about the language he was previously fluid in was erased from his mind.

Without much to do Vincent grabbed a small identification card from his belt, the first thing he noticed was that his new name was Vasiliy Makarov and that he was born in 1937.

-"Большой!" (Great!) Said Vincent as he calculated his new age with the help of the expedition date of the identification card, by doing the math Vincent found out that he was now 35 which meant that not only had he been transformed and transported to Moscow of the early 1970s during Soviet regime but he had also aged a decade.

- "Не может быть хуже отсюда, не так ли?" (It can't get worse from here can it?) Vincent said to himself as he stored the identification card in his belt and looked at himself in the mirror once he was done.

Even though Vincent should be worried as he looked at himself in the mirror a sense of calm settled within him, he remembered that in the past he wished that he could experience the cold war.

- "Может, это послужило толчком к трансформации" (Maybe that triggered the transformation) Vincent though as he tried to rationalize the whole situation.

As Vincent continued looking at the mirror he couldn't deny that whatever had happened to him wasn't as bad as it seemed.

Granted he was transformed into a different person, sent to a different time and to a different country that doesn't even exist anymore.

Yet the more Vincent thought about it he started to feel at peace with his transformation.

Once that happened Vincent's mind was attacked by foreign memories, memories of his new life, family, work, and friends.

With this also came a burning pride for the USSR, his home, and his motherland, a nation that gave its citizens equality and peace.

With each glance Victor made at the mirror, he understood that he was the poster man of the USSR, strong, fearless, and proud of the accomplishments of his socialist nation and its people.

After a few minutes of standing in front of the mirror, Vasiliy walked out of the room after retrieving the key of his new volga patrol car and stepped out of his apartment.

Once he was outside of the large apartment complex the cold of the Russian winter hit him directly in the face but that didn't stop him as he walked towards his car with full conviction, once he had boarded it he turned on the engine and expertly started driving through the busy Moscow streets in order to get to the police station he worked at since he graduated from the Soviet military academy.

With each block, he passed and each turn he made Vasiliy came closer to his new destiny, and if you asked him he was happy to take it by the horns.

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The noise of tanks and people celebrating filled the red square as the celebrations for the 57th year of the Great October Socialist Revolution began.

Vasiliy was stationed in an area where he could perfectly see the entirety of the grounds of the red square, his body was rigid, his chest puffed up and his face had a neutral expression that hid all of the overwhelming pride his heart felt for his comrades and country.

As the soviet anthem began playing and the flags of each of the republics that made up the USSR were brought into the square Vasiliy put his hand over his head as he saluted with pride while also singing each of the verses of the soviet anthem.

It had been two years since he became and fully accepted his new life as Vasiliy, in that time he had experienced many different things that made him love his new life in the communist utopia he now lived in and proudly called home.

He did remember a few limited fragments of his old self but that was something he didn't like to dwell on, after all, he used to live in the United States, a country dominated by capitalist pigs, and during his life there he had actively participated in dirty capitalist debauchery.

Just thinking about it made Vasiliy angry as in his new life he wasn't only an individual but a piece of a larger machine that works tirelessly for the good of all mankind and to spread the worker's revolution all over the world so that everyone can live in equality and peace.

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Hello Comrades 😁! I really hope this story is to your liking, it was part of and old draft I started writing in 2020! (Sorry if it's too politically heavy but the brainwashing into a new political ideal fit this story like a glove), anyway, have a safe day!

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#reality change #race change #mental change #age progression #solo story #time travel #male transformation #male tf #straight to gay #dumber

237 notes · View notes

chadgolden · 3 months ago

Text

KoreaCo

The year is 2025, the two nations of the Korean peninsula finally unite forming the United Republic Of Korea under the hegemony of the Seoul Government. One year later the Chinese and Russian Governments collapse after years of economic and political instability, this climate of uncertainty made the regions within these nations which had a majority Korean population more patriotic and by 2027 these regions unified with the United Republic Of Korea and became integral parts of it.

By 2032 the Korean Union is the third largest economy in the world thanks to the incredibly high quality products it produces that range from cars to phones which are exported and consumed all over the world.

This is where KoreaCo comes in, the company which was founded in 2018 is one of the most valuable companies in the world thanks to its product range that includes cars, smartphones, household electronics, music, clothing, beauty products, etc.

Even though profits were raising as the label "Made In Korea" that was stitched into every product they made was a symbol of quality and marksmanship the sales department of KoreaCo found something alarming.

Their products were much more popular with women, this was especially evident in the U.S, Canadian, Australian, and New Zealand markets where men were still a little hesitant to buy anything Korean-made over things made locally or made in Japan.

Thankfully KoreaCo had a solution, after the unification of Korea many state-owned companies in the North were gobbled up by KoreaCo, one of these companies was developing a transformative type element (Element K) that could be applied to any product and transform its user into a loyal North Korean citizen, with a little bit of tweaking and some changes KoreaCo was able to finish developing it and after long consideration by the board, it was decided to start applying the element to male products in the North American, Australia and New Zealand markets only.

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KoreaCo Jeans

(Sydney, Australia)

-"Okay people distribute these and get changed, quickly we don't have all day" The director of the photoshoot said as the rest of his crew pulled into the room a few boxes and opened them.

Each one of the male models in the room approached the boxes and grabbed a pair of what seemed to be jeans.

Eric was one of them who promptly grabbed a pair and waited for further instructions.

-"Try them and see if they fit, if there isn't any problem we will start in a few minutes" The director said as he walked out of the room with his crew and each of the models walked into temporary constructed changing rooms.

-"Made In Korea..." Eric read out loud as he looked at a small tag with text and a Korean flag that was attached to the jeans right pocket.

Once he was done Eric removed his shorts threw them to the side, he then proceeded to put on the jeans effortlessly and was immediately surprised by how comfy they felt.

Granted they were a little thigh in some parts but that wouldn't be a problem.

As Eric continued to look at the jeans and move around the changing room he didn't notice that all over his body his skin was changing in color to a yellowish tone while his relatively lean body developed more muscle.

-"People don't forget to remove your shirt!" The Director said from the entrance, this statement made Eric uncomfortable as even though he was a model he only applied or accepted modeling requests if he had to be fully clothed as he was slightly insecure of his body.

-"Shit" Eric said as he removed his shirt which exposed his new six-pack and bouncy muscled pecs.

Once the shirt reached the floor Eric could perfectly see his new body in the mirror yet his memories quickly altered.

-"Looking good!" Eric said as he flexed his growing pecs and played with his muscled chest, while he continued his Anglo-Saxon features were erased as his face became much more smooth, his eyes became larger yet almond-shaped making his new brown colored pupils pop even more.

Then Eric's hair changed from blonde to a deep and shiny black in a matter of seconds, this wasn't the only change as Eric's hair also became straight and not as curly as before.

-"Are you done people!" The director asked

-"예!" (Yes) all the men including Eric or now Eunwoo said as he walked out of the changing room, his beautifully muscled and waxed body was just like that of the rest of the Korean men which were each walking out of their respective changing rooms.

-"Okay people out, out, out! The director said as a flow of Korean men walked past him and out into the street with their almost identical bodies and faces ready to be photographed.

Once the room was empty the director also walked out into the street and then stood next to the photographer.

-"Let's begin" Said the director as he signaled to the photographer to start taking pictures.

-"More smiles people! The director said oblivious that the Korean men in front of him were previously pure breed Australians like him.

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KoreaCo Beachwear & Sunscreen

(Miami, USA)

-"Dude are you a sissy!" Brad shouted as he grabbed a pink-looking thong with a Korean flag stitched to the side -"What the hell is this?".

-"Don't know Brah my girl gave them to me" Steve said as he grabbed a beige thong which had the same Korean flag stitched to it like that of Brad's

-"Do you expect me to wear this shit?" Brad said as he was thinking if he should just call it a day and go back home.

-"Come on dude how insecure are you of your sexuality, it's not like if you wear it you automatically become a cucumber lover" Steve said as he removed his basketball shorts leaving him almost completely naked.

-"Are you for real Bruh?" Brad asked as Steve put on his thong and started to lather up his body with KoreaCo branded sunscreen.

-"Yes I am" Steve Said while laying down on a towel situated in front of his family's boat.

-"Fine" Brad said as he also removed his basketball shorts and replaced them with the pink thong -"I look awful" Said Brad as he then removed his shirt and placed it next to his basketball shorts.

-"It does show your ass nicely" Steve said in a sarcastic tone.

-"Don't go fruity with me" Brad said in a serious tone as Steve passed him the sunscreen while rolling his eyes.

-"Why is all of this shit in Chinese" Brad ignorantly said as he observed the Korean flag in the sunscreen tube.

-"It's Korean" Steve said in a slightly angry tone as he was tired of Brad's antics.

-"Whatever all those ching-chongs look the same anyways" Brad said as his large dick made it hard to walk thanks to it being too large for the speedo he was wearing -"And probably have small dicks as well" Brad thought".

After a few seconds of applying the sunscreen, Brad was finally able to lay down on his own towel next to Steve who gave him a pair of sunglasses.

-"Here, they aren't Korean" Steve said while Brad grabbed one of the glasses and placed them on his face, before he closed his eyes in order to relax he also noticed a fat middle-aged man in a boat nearby wearing a shirt with what he thought was the same flag of the speedo he was now wearing.

-"Maybe the brand is popular" Brad thought as he thanked Steve for the pair of glasses and closed his eyes, the peaceful motion of the small waves moving the ship almost made him fall asleep

What both men didn't know was that as they tanned, their bodies started to change, the most noticeable of these changes was their sudden loss of height as Brad who was six feet ended up being five feet seven, and Steve who was previously six feet two was now five feet six.

These weren't the only changes as the skin of both of them went from white to a yellowish tone that had just a slight tan to it.

This was then followed by a sudden muscle loss as both Steve's and Brad's muscles became much more modest yet still toned enough to make their smaller bodies look cute and but unmistakably feminine as they developed more curves, and their hips became larger while their waists shrunk slightly.

-"Let's do the back" Steve said as he turned around and exposed his backside to the sun, Brad quickly did the same thing and as he pressed the front part of his body against his towel he felt a sense of relief in his groin as it didn't feel as tight as before, what Brad didn't know was that his previously large sausage had lost its impressive size and girth becoming a small yellow four-inch stick surrounded by thin black hairs and two small balls.

Steve felt the same relief as he also underwent similar changes in his private area, as the sun continued shining on Brad's back his ass started to grow and become much more bubbly than before, by the time Steve's ass started growing Brad's ass was already big enough to make any woman feel jealous thanks to its comically large size and bouncy nature which could hypnotize any onlooker when it moved from side to side.

-"Like... let's turn around" Brad said in a very accented and feminine voice as he turned around and faced the sun, immediately his new dark almond-shaped eyes, gorgeous pink lips and black set of hair glistened thanks to the rays of the sun.

-"당신이 그렇게 말한다면" (If you say so) Steve said in perfect Korean as his own cute new face and twinkish Korean body turned around like a sunflower searching for the sun.

After more than half an hour Sung-Ho and Baek-Hyun finally stopped their tanning session and as they got up from the floor of the boat the both of them were treated with the view of a beautiful and muscled Korean hunk drinking a glass of Soju on the boat next to them.

Sung-Ho and Baek-Hyun looked at each other with hunger in their eyes as their holes twitched and their pierced brown nipples became hard in anticipation about what was to come.

Once the man finished drinking his glass of Soju he proceeded to look at Sung-Ho and Baek-Hyun with a questioning glare.

-"섹스할래?" (Do you want to fuck?) Baek-Hyun asked as he pulled up his glasses and winked while Sung-Ho hugged Baek-Hyun seductively and sent a kiss towards the man on the neighboring boat.

The Korean man in the other boat smiled as he pulled his shirt off exposing his perfect torso which made Baek-Hyun and Sung-Ho hornier than before.

The man then jumped into the water and swam towards Baek-Hyun and Sung-Ho boat, the men quickly readied themselves for the fuck session that was about to begin by removing their speedos and placing them next to the sluty new clothing that was previously their frat boy attire.

They then proceeded to lay down like sluts on their respective towels while exposing the most of their large assets as possible.

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KoreaCo Sportswear

(NYC, United States)

-"Hello welcome to Korea Clothing how can I help you?" A heavily muscled Korean man asked as Mike nervously entered the store.

The young software engineer had seen the store many times as it was close to his apartment but he never had the need or enough curiosity to enter it until now.

-"Hi we'll I'm going to start going to the gym tomorrow and I was wondering if you guys have some sportswear that I could check out" Mike asked as he tried to not look at the heavily muscled man in front of him.

-"Sure!" The Korean man said as he ordered Mike to follow him, after a short walk the man pointed at a shelf filled with every imaginable type of sportswear, from joggers to tank tops and even shoes, all of them had references to Korea or had the Korean flagged stitched to them somewhere.

-"Here it is" The man said polity -"If you need any help don't doubt on calling me"

-"Sure thing!" Mike said as he looked at the badge the man had in his shirt and struggled to say the name displayed on it.

-"Um Han...G...y...e"

-"Don't worry, just call me Han" The man said as he smiled at Mike's attempt to say his name.

-"Okay then, I can work with that" Mike said as the man walked away and greeted a group of black men that had just wandered into the store.

-"Okay let's get this over with" Mike thought as he looked and picked up some of the clothing in order to feel if they were made of a soft material that wouldn't bother him while he exercised.

After a while of searching, Mike was overwhelmed by the number of things he could choose to buy as at least a dozen shorts, joggers, and sleeves shirts piqued his interest.

All of them seemed to be made out of good quality materials and for Mike, Korean brands seemed very reliable these days as he had previously owned a Samsung smartphone and drove around through his college town on a nice and pretty reliable Kia sedan.

-"Did you find anything you like?" Han said as he suddenly appeared next to Mike.

-"I like a few of these things but I'm not trying to get a whole new wardrobe" Mike said as Han looked at the shelf.

-"Well how about you buy sportswear for two or three days of exercise" Han said as he grabbed and showed to Mike a few of his recommendations, one of them was a black sleeveless shirt with a Korean flag logo and the phrase "Squat Like A Korean" Plastered on it.

-"How about these one's" Han asked as he gave Mike the clothes so that he could check them.

-"I like them a lot" Mike said as he looked at the clothes -"But I don't think this one is appropriate for me" Mike said as he showed Han the black sleeveless shirt.

-"Why?" Han asked as he looked at it.

-"Well I'm not Korean as you can see" Mike said in an obvious tone as he pointed at himself, his reddish hair, pale skin, and freckles made it easy to discern that he had Irish ancestry.

-"Nah don't worry about that, it's more of a tribute thing" Han said as he pointed at his pants and showed Mike a small part of his extremely muscled legs -"It's like those posts on the internet that say Spend Arab, Party Italian and so on".

-"Oh, okay..." Said Mike as he tried to control his boner.

-"Here let me take you to the changing room" Han said as he walked away, Mike immediately followed him until they reached an area where there were a few cubicles with curtains attached to them.

-"Here" Han said as he passed Mike the clothing -"I'm going to check on the other clients, I'll be here soon"

-"Okay" Mike said as he entered one of the cubicles and pulled the curtain shut while Han walked away into the distance.

Once the outside world was completely sealed off Mike proceeded to remove his jeans and shirt leaving him completely naked.

-"What should I check first?" Mike said as he looked at the pile of clothes Han had selected for him -"What is that?" Mike thought as he grabbed a white item and noticed that it was a jock with the Korean flag plastered right where his dick would be.

-"I didn't pick this" Mike thought as he looked at the jock -"Han probably picked it for me and I didn't even notice".

After a small internal debate, Mike found himself removing his underwear and putting on the jock which was a weird experience for him as he had never worn one before.

-"This thing is a little too big" Mike thought as the jock felt lose around his body -"Let's see what else I should try"

Mike then picked a pair of grey shorts and as he was putting them on the clothes he was previously wearing disappeared out of sight.

-"And it's too small for me..." Mike said as he moved around and looked at how the shorts looked on him in the mirror.

-"The third time's the charm" Mike thought as he grabbed the black sleeveless shirt and carefully put it on.

-"Fuck!" Mike said -"This one is a little large as well"

-"How's it going in there" Han suddenly asked from the other side which made Mike snap back to reality.

-"It's going fine I guess, it's just that the clothes you gave me are a little big for me" Mike said

-"Oh that's fine I can fetch you the exact clothing but in a smaller size" Han said as he moved the curtain slightly and placed on the floor a pair of KoreaCo branded sports shoes.

-"Here I think that you may need them for the Gym as well"

-"Thank you!" Mike exclaimed as he grabbed the shoes -"I completely forgot to ask for shoes"

-"Your welcome" Han said in a diligent tone -"I'll bring you the smaller sizes in a moment".

-"Thanks!" Mike said as he sat down on a small bench and removed his shoes which quickly disappeared like the clothes from before.

As Mike put on the sporty shoes his body instantly rocketed from a height of five feet ten to a titanic six feet three.

This growth made the clothes Mike was wearing feel more comfortable and as he tighten the sports shoes laces his feet quickly grew to better adapt to the size of the shoes.

-"Perfect!" Mike thought as got up from the bench not noticing that his legs now sported a pair of heavy and muscled quads the size of boulders that were covered in rivers of veins, defined calves, and well-proportioned hamstrings that led towards his larger and more muscled ass.

As Mike looked at the shoes in the mirror his dick began to grow with his balls not far behind, by the time Han had made his presence known again at the other side of the curtain Mike's new jock was now keeping at bay a ten-inch monster and two enormous eggs that were sparsely covered in small black hairs.

-"Hey I've got the larger sizes" Han said

-"Sorry but I think I won't need them anymore" Mike said as the rest of his body hair except that of his pits disappeared leaving his body in a smooth and waxed state.

-"Okay then" Han said weirdly -"If you need anything you know the drill"

-"Thanks for the trouble though" Mike said as his small belly was absorbed into his body and an impressive eighth pack grew in its place.

By the time Mike's small fat pecs had been replaced by a pair of large globes of pure muscle topped by large brownish nipples his skin had already changed from incredibly pale to a more yellowish hue.

-"God I look amazing!" Mike said as he looked at himself in the mirror, his previous shyness and social awkwardness were replaced by a more confident and easy-going personality.

Because of this Mike wasn't scared as he observed his new body, after all, he dared to enter the gym early in life and it was all paying off.

-"Look at these guns" Mike thought as he flexed his growing biceps with pride while his lower arms continued to develop more muscle.

While Mike continued to do his flex routine his face started to change, his freckles that showed his Irish heritage were completely eliminated and so were his Celtic facial features as his face became much more Asian in nature as seen by his small almond-shaped eyes, slightly pudgy nose and thin lips.

As Mike's hair changed from bright red to shiny black and a beard shadow formed on his face his memories were permanently altered as his old life was replaced.

He was now and always had been Min-Jun, the son of Korean immigrants and a bull of a man ever since he started going to the gym in his early teenage years.

Because of this instead of going to the more intellectual route his brain was clouded by exercise routines, sports where he excelled at, and most importantly who to fuck each night.

After years of studying in college, having fun with his frat mates, and fucking almost anything that moved, Min-Jun graduated with a diploma in fitness, and ever since then, he had been working in the rather new KoreaCo branded gym that opened right in the downtown of New York City.

-"젠장, 아직 몇 가지를 시도해야 해" (Fuck I still have to try a few things) Min-Jun said in fluent Korean as he looked at the pile of clothing that was on the bench.

After trying every possible combination Min-Jun grabbed the clothing and walked out of the changing room, his best friend and Gym mate Han-Gyeol was currently packing the bags of a group of muscled Korean guys.

-"안녕하세요" (Hello) Min-Jun said as he approached the register area, the group of Korean men kindly responded back as they grabbed their bags and walked out of the store in a hurry.

-"나는 당신이 모든 것을 좋아하는 것을 보았습니다" (I see that you liked everything) Hyan-Gyeol said playfully as he passed the clothing through the gun scanner.

- (But of course, you know all of my tastes) Min-Jun said as Hyan-Gyeol finished scanning and started putting everything on a bag.

-"하지만 물론 당신은 내 취향을 모두 알고 있습니다." (Are you going to the Gym?) Hyan-Gyeol asked as he gave the bag to Min-Jun and also told him the amount of money he had to pay.

-"예, 새 고객이 있습니다. 하지만 작업이 끝나면 바로 여기로 가겠습니다." (Yes, I have a new client, but after I'm done I'll be right here for you) Min-Jun said as he gave Hyan-Gyeol the money and a little kiss on the cheek which made his face turn red.

-"구입 주셔서 감사합니다!" (Thank you for your purchase!) Hyan Gyeol said as he recovered himself from the sudden romantic moment his boyfriend had created.

-"천만에요" (Your welcome...) Min-Jun said as he winked and walk out of the store with a pleased expression on his face as he had not only seen his boyfriend but had also bought a few things that reminded him of his Korean heritage.

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KoreaCo Shampoo

(Vancouver, Canada)

-"Fuck I'm late" Daniel thought as he quickly removed his clothing and entered his bathroom with a bottle of KoreaCo shampoo in hand which he proceeded to place on one of the shelves of his shower.

He was supposed to be ready for a night of drinking with a group of friends at a local bar but his biochemistry class ended much later than he had planned.

Daniel then had to run to a store and pick up a bottle of shampoo as he had run out of it earlier that morning.

From there Daniel returned to his dorm and after organizing his class notes and due assignments he quickly pulled out of his closet the clothes he was planning to use.

Suddenly as Daniel was about to enter the shower his phone started to ring.

-"Shit" He thought as he saw the name of one of his friends on the screen.

-Hey Sara" Daniel said as he responded to the call.

-"Hey bud where you at?" Sara said as the noises of dozens of people could be heard in the distance.

-"Sorry Sara I'm about to enter the shower" Daniel said as he turned on the hot water.

-"Oh okay then, did Mr. Robert's ask for extra class time" Sara asked.

-"Yes, can you imagine!"

-"Don't worry bud take your time, I understand you, that guy is a pain in the ass, he always begins the classes late and then wants more time on top of that, anyways I'll leave you alone, take care..." Sara said.

-"Okay bye" Daniel said as he hung up and placed his phone on the sink before entering the hot stream of flowing water.

His tensed body finally relaxed as the stream of hot water traveled all over his body.

-"Fuck I needed this" Daniel thought as the events of that day passed through his head, he rapidly concluded that the way his life was going wasn't healthy at all which is funny as he was studying to become a doctor.

Ever since he started going to college Daniel immediately knew that becoming a doctor wasn't for him, granted he was smart but his complete lack of confidence made it hard to stay calm when he was under the pressure of dozens of assignments and exams, meaning that he made mistakes often.

The future didn't seem fun either as when he finally graduated he needed to go through residency and pass an infinite number of harder tribulations and exams.

At least he had his friends, yet Daniel had to admit that in between them he was going to probably be the least successful one, and frankly, in the present, he was the least handsome of them as shown by the photos on his gallery that contained five looking Instagram models next to a guy like him who was just your simple day to day Joe.

-God I wish I could be different" Daniel thought as he turned off the water once he was fully soaked in it, he then proceeded to lather his whole body with his favorite soap.

-"Maybe then I'd have a chance" Daniel thought as images of his beautiful friend Sara flashed through his mind, he knew that if he asked her out she would probably tell him that it would be better to just stay as friends.

That and Sara had a preference for more foreign and muscular type guys, something he didn't really quite excel on as he was white and skinny like a pole.

Once Daniel had his whole body covered in soap he then grabbed the bottle of KoreaCo shampoo from one of the shower shelves he had previously placed it on.

KoreaCo shampoo wasn't the normal shampoo Daniel used but it had a discount so he decided to give it a try, as he opened the lid of the shampoo he was immediately punched with the delicious smell of flowers.

-"This smells amazing!" Daniel thought as he started to place the liquid on his left hand, once he had enough he closed the lid and placed the shampoo back on its shelf.

-' I'm surely going to buy more of this" Daniel thought as the shampoo immediately formed a huge amount of foam in his hair once it touched it.

While Daniel moved his fingers around his hair he didn't notice that his normally light brown hair was darkening, every time Daniel continued to form more foam with his fingers his hair became a shade darker, and by the time he had finished and was about to turn on the shower his hair had become coal-black and very shiny.

Once Daniel turned on the shower the foam quickly started streaming down the length of his body which rapidly started to change him.

Firstly the foam reached his eyebrows which also turned coal black like his hair, most importantly as the foam was about to reach Daniel's eyes he closed them as to not burn them, this brought on another change as once the foam had cleared Daniel's eyes and he had opened them they quickly became almond-shaped and his eye color turned to a dark brown.

Another thing to note was that the skin the foam touched also changed as made evident by how half of Daniel's face had changed in color to a yellowish tone with a noticeable tan to it.

As the foam finally cleared all of Daniel's face what was left behind was a face of a beautiful Korean man that sported a straight nose, a pair of very thin but puffy pink lips, and a strong jawline combined with soft features that gave him an almost godly appearance.

Once the foam had reached Daniel's chest an instant explosion of muscle affected that particular area.

While the last remnants of foam from Daniel's arms flowed down the drain and left behind powerful biceps, traps, delts, and lower arms, Daniel's chest was now the home of two large muscle-filled pecs that we're topped by a pair of larger brownish nipples.

-"Oh fuck..." Daniel said out loud as a sudden sensation of arousal filled his body, at that exact moment the foam had reached Daniel's flat abdomen which was quickly growing a defined six-pack.

-"I need to...I need to oh fuck!" Daniel grunted as he felt like his balls were suddenly growing, this was followed by the hardening of his dick which Daniel rapidly grabbed with both hands.

Even though Daniel knew something was wrong his arousal got the best of him and he found himself pumping his shaft, with each stroke his shaft became larger and larger.

-"Oh my God...!" Daniel said as his dick reached the nine-inch mark, almost simultaneously Daniel's modest height of five feet ten shot upwards to six feet two in a matter of seconds.

-"젠장, 임, 난 정액 할거야!" (Fuck, Im, Im going to cum!) Daniel suddenly said with his new deep voice in perfect Korean, a language he had never even studied yet there he was saying things like a native.

As Daniel's orgasm grew nearer his legs quickly developed enormous quads, hamstrings, and calves, this was also followed by the growth of his glutes giving him a powerful and muscled ass.

-"못쓰게 만들다!" (Fuck!) Daniel roared like a lion as he finally released his load all over the walls and floor of the bathroom, they wouldn't stay there forever as the water then pulled them down the drain where they mixed with the last wave of shampoo foam that had transformed Daniel into the Korean hunk he now was.

-"Shit I shouldn't have done that" Said Daniel in English this time but with a very noticeable accent as he walked out of the shower and stopped once he was in front of the bathroom mirror.

At first, something seemed off but Daniel quickly brushed his worries aside as he remembered that he had to hurry to make it to the bar.

With this in mind, Daniel walked out of the bathroom and towards his bed where the clothes he had previously selected were placed.

Yet again as Daniel looked at the clothing he felt like something else was weird.

-"저런거 절대 안입는데..." (I'd never wear something like that...) Daniel thought as he looked at a short-sleeved white shirt that had a Korean flag stitched in the area where his left pec would be, the shirt was accompanied by a pair of tight dark blue ripped jeans and a pair of short boots.

Despite this Daniel found himself putting on the clothes with complete ease, as he did this his memories of Daniel were slowly being replaced by that of a man called Dong-Hyun.

Instead of being born in Canada Dong-Hyun was born in Seoul to a relatively rich family, since he was a kid he was a prodigy in almost every subject, so much so that he didn't even need to study, after graduating from high school he entered the Korean army in order to complete his required military service, while in the army he developed a love for working out and ever since then he had been going to the Gym in an almost religious fashion.

Once his service was over Dong-Hyun applied to the medical faculty at the University of British Columbia in Vancouver where he received a scholarship.

Almost a year into his studies, Dong-Hyun was the talk of his college, from his godly face to his Greek God of a body every man and woman would glance in awe at the Koren hunk when he passed by them.

Now that the last fragments of Daniel were deleted the now fully clothed Dong-Hyun walked out of his dorm, in his mind he was planning about how he should ask Sara, one of his new closest friends to go out on a date with him.

Dong-Hyun knew that he could get her thanks to his stunning good looks, extreme levels of confidence in himself, and his muscled body that would certainly help to catch her eyes.

-"오늘 저녁은 한국 음식을 먹게 될거야"(Tonight you'll get to eat Korean) Dong-Hyun thought as he smiled and continued walking towards his destiny.

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Hey guys! 😇

Hope you like this little spin inspired by a few stories posted by @dumb-and-jocked (Thanks for your permission btw) check the guy and his stories out, he's amazing!

Anyways, there is more to come with this small series so stay tuned ;)

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#reality change #race change #mental change #dumber #muscle loss #gay tf #koreaco #male transformation #male tf #straight to gay

388 notes · View notes

chadgolden · 3 months ago

Text

Supporting The Cause

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-"That's weird..." Thought Robert as he got out of his beater car and walked through the relatively empty parking lot of the high school he used to go to -"Maybe not many people support the cause..." Robert concluded as he passed a banner colored in yellow and blue stripes, the message "Support Ukraine" could be seen printed on the banner with simple yet bold white lettering.

-"I guess that's the place" Robert thought as his eyes moved from the banner towards a large tent that was far into the distance.

He could even see some people outside dressed in plain civilian clothes but some were dressed in military clothing which slightly concerned Robert -"I thought this was a civilian charity..." He thought as he walked towards the tent.

While on his way Robert also noticed four strange white buses with no visible markings and whose windows were tinted dark black parked neatly next to the tent.

-"Feels like I'm going to get kidnapped" he thought while halfway through the parking lot, once he reached the entrance of the tent he was immediately greeted by the two people wearing civilian clothes he had seen earlier, the ones wearing military uniforms seemed to have disappeared into one of the buses next to the tent.

-"Hello young man" a tall very muscled guy in a yellow and blue jacket said as he shook Robert's hand -"Are you here to support the cause?".

-"Yes I am" Robert said without hesitation as he retrieved from his pocket a poster that only said, "Support Ukraine Now!" With an address below -"I found this in my mailbox yesterday and well I'm all too happy to support the cause".

-"That's great buddy, how about you follow me inside and I'll explain what we are going to do and how you can help save Ukraine" The man said as he started walking into the tent with Robert behind him him.

-"Hello central, I think we have them all, yes all 160 of them... We're finishing with the last one" The other man that Robert had seen previously said as he walked away with a radio in hand towards the white buses.

-"160 of what?" Robert asked himself mentally as he pushed through the flaps of the tent and walked into a section that looked like a normal doctor's office, the only abnormal thing was a large machine placed next to a large throne-like seat in the center of the room, very close to it there was also a table with a small green box and a small stool at the side of the machine.

-"Okay Sir as you can see, what we are going to do is collect some of your blood and send it to the injured in Ukraine with the help of some of our international partners, I'll need you to sit down on the chair right there in order to start" The man said in a cordial tone as he walked towards the machine that was next to the seat.

-"Okay" Robert said as he immediately walked and sat down on the seat, the man who was manipulating the machine nodded in approval as a sudden beep made the machine come to life.

-"Well now we have to wait for it to heat up" The man said as he sat down on the small stool from earlier while Robert nervously tapped his feet on the floor.

-"Don't be nervous" The man said as he noticed that Robert was worried -"This will be over in an instant, and lives shall be saved thanks to your sacrifice".

-"Yes, you're right" Robert thought as he tried to relax while the man pulled out an IPad from his jacket.

-"Okay then can you give me your name please?" The man asked as he looked up from the IPad towards Robert.

-"Robert Simmons" Robert said in a nervous tone.

-"Age?".

-"19".

-"Weight?".

-"150".

-"Blood type?".

-"O-".

-"Are you allergic to something?".

-"Not that I know of".

-"Do you have any illness, to be precise any blood transmittable illnesses?".

-"No".

-"Occupation?"

-"Umm" Robert said as he thought about how to explain his situation -"Well I graduated from..."

-"Student then, do you go to college, have a job?" The man interrupted.

-"I graduated from high school this year but I don't know what career I want to dedicate my life to, so I'm taking a year off to think about everything and make the best decision" Robert said as he looked at the floor with a slight amount of shame, while other people he knew were already on track to secure their future, he hadn't even started yet, this wasn't helped by Robert's preconceived notion of himself, which was that he didn't have any purpose or that his whole existence was worthless".

-"Okay then" The man said unemotionally as he typed Robert's answer -"I think that would be all, I'm going to need for you to place your personal items in the small box next to you".

-"Wait there are no other questions?" Robert asked slightly concerned, he had donated blood before and he clearly remembered being asked more things, not only that but he also remembered his heart pressure and hemoglobin levels being tested.

-"No, that's all I am required to ask" the man said in a cutting tone -"Please put your stuff in the box so that we can continue".

Robert turned around and observed the small but empty green box next to him, he then quickly emptied his pockets by placing his phone, wallet, and keys on the box.

Meanwhile, the man got up from the stool he was seated on, stored the IPad back in his jacket, and started to adjust a visor that deployed from the top of the machine.

-"What is that?" Robert asked as the man moved the visor directly towards his face.

-"It's nothing" the man responded as he also placed a pair of headphones on Robert's ears -"Some people don't like needles so we use this visor to project a relaxing scene with some music in order to distract people from the process".

-"Wow that's kinda cool" Robert said feeling much better as his view was now consumed by the visor which started projecting a scene that was composed of a large field of yellow wheat and a light blue sky above it, meanwhile the headphones started playing some sort of calming classical music.

-"Shit I almost forgot, I'll need you to remove your glasses as well" The man said as grabbed the box on which Robert had stored his things.

-"Do I have to? it's just that I can't see much without them" Robert said as he hesitantly removed his glasses.

-"Don't worry it's just the procedure we have to follow when a patient is using the visor" The man said as he waited for Robert to put the glasses on the box.

-"If you say so" said Robert as he clumsily placed the glasses on the box.

-"Thank you, I'll be back in a minute" the man said as he walked out of the room in a hurry while Robert sat there listening to the music coming from the headphones while watching the scenery in front of him.

Because of this and the increasing volume of the music blasting through Robert's ears, he didn't even notice when the man returned from storing his things in a secure chest outside of the tent.

After entering the room once more, the man, whose hands were now covered by medical gloves walked towards the machine and opened a small cabinet that was situated in its center.

Inside the cabinet, there were a few tubes that were connected to two individual small bags, one of these bags was empty while the other was full of a translucent liquid, the tubes that were attached to each bag were also fused at the base of a needle which could close the access automatically to one of the bags thanks to a small valve.

However, before the man grabbed the needle he first cleaned a small area of Robert's left arm with some alcohol and a small cotton ball, he then proceeded to grab a sort of armband that could apply or reduce pressure automatically and then secured it around Robert's upper left forearm.

With nothing else left to do the man inserted the needle into Robert's left arm while the armband he was wearing immediately applied pressure, this made a huge amount of blood flow out of Robert's body and towards the empty bag inside of the machine.

-"Now to sit back and watch," the man thought to himself as he moved away from Robert and sat down on the stool from before.

Meanwhile, Robert continued to watch the scenery while listening to the music in a trance-like state, he didn't even feel when the needle had pierced his skin or that he wasn't alone in the room.

As the empty bag inside the machine was slowly being filled with Robert's blood the headphones he was wearing started playing a new track of music, the difference from the previous one was that this one had a chorus singing in the background in a language that he didn't understand.

The music would play for exactly one minute and fifty-five seconds, once it was done it would loop again to the beginning but the chorus in the background would progressively become louder and louder.

After around eight minutes had passed a sudden click that Robert couldn't hear told the man seated on the stool that the blood needed from the subject had been collected and that the transparent liquid would now be forced into his body.

The machine immediately started pumping with the help of hydraulics the transparent liquid into Robert's bloodstream.

Once the liquid had entered his system it immediately started changing the genetic code of each cell it encountered, initially, this was not noticeable from the outside, but as the liquid reached Robert's heart and was pumped into every corner of his body the changes slowly made themselves known.

The first major change brought on by Robert's genetic code rewrite was his height which quickly raised to a titanic six feet six, thankfully the seat he was seated in quickly adapt to his new height, and the visor in front of him that was keeping him unaware of the changes also adjusted to his taller point of view.

The next round of changes was more dramatic as Robert's genetic background changed from Anglo-Saxon to Slavic in a matter of seconds, firstly his skin went from white to what can only be described as polar white, even the slight tan he had painstakingly developed last summer when he went to Florida with his family was all but history.

Robert's innocent face was next as it became sharper in every sense possible, his nose became slightly wider and straighten itself like a knife, his forehead became much more prominent, his cheekbones broaden themselves and when mixed with his new sharp chin this gave him a more triangular head shape, a brett style beard and shadow also formed around Robert's face which gave him an older appearance.

As this was happening Robert's view of the scenery projected by the visor became even blurrier as his eye color changed from brown to blue and the cells of his eyes slowly repaired themselves making his myopia a thing of the past.

By the time Robert's hair had recessed slightly into his scalp and had changed together with his beard in color to blonde, the scenery in front of him that was being projected by the visor became clear as day, this was due to Robert's new and improved eyes that could even detect the smallest distant objects/details with perfect accuracy.

Relating to Robert's new hair color, tiny hairs started to grow all over his body starting around his chest where they surrounded his larger pinkish nipples, they then raced down towards his belly button where a prominent treasure trail of blonde hairs formed and then lowered into his still-covered private areas where the few pubic hairs he possessed changed from black to gold and then multiplied in quantity.

While this was happening Robert's dick started growing which from the outside view formed a considerable tent in his pants as his dick grew by at least five inches in length, giving him an eight-inch monster that sported a pair of heavy and large fertile balls at its base.

Then as Robert's legs became coated with hair, his armpits went through the opposite process as the small black hairs there simply recessed back into his skin leaving behind a smooth white surface.

Once Robert's legs and parts of his feet were fully coated with blonde hairs a sudden crack was heard all over the room as Robert's shoes had busted due to the size of his larger feet.

With the genetic changes finalized Robert's new body was that of a pretty lanky Slavic man of around twenty-two years old as seen by the more mature features of his face, however, this lanky phase would quickly change as the transparent liquid that was still being pumped into his body activated a new round of changes. Said new changes were related to Robert's muscle mass as it started to quickly increase, especially around his left arm which now sported a larger forearm.

The armband Robert had around his left arm quickly reduced pressure and removed itself by falling to the floor as a new wave of muscle climbed through Robert's arm, leaving behind an enormous bicep as it continued towards his shoulders.

Once both of Robert's shoulders had filled up with muscle the liquid then stimulated the growth of Robert's adam's apple which gave him a more gruff and masculine voice on par with his new body.

The same amount of muscle that Robert had gained in his left arm was also replicated in his right arm as his biceps and forearms were now equally huge and completely covered in veins.

This sudden growth in musculature quickly ripped Robert's shirt into shreds as from his chest two large and obscene boulders of pure muscle grew into existence.

As Robert's tattered shirt slid off his body his flat abdomen started pushing itself outwards until finally forming an impressively defined eight pack.

Before new muscles could be developed in Robert's lower body a sudden crack brought on by the adjustment of his spinal cord shined some light on the growth of large muscles in Robert's back which together with his arms would help him pick up and carry with ease the heaviest of loads.

With this out of the way, the effects of the liquid finally reached Robert's legs as seen by his now larger and imposing thighs, hamstrings, and calves, together with his larger glutes the amount of pressure Robert's pants were holding became impossible to manage as they too disintegrated onto the floor, leaving Robert pretty much naked except for his slightly strained underwear and busted out shoes.

Now that the changes to Robert's body were finished the machine stopped pumping the liquid into his veins while the visor which until now was showing a plain scenery started showing new images and playing a more patriotic-style song.

The calmness of the wheat field was replaced by the chaotic noises of bullets flying in the air, orders being shouted out in a foreign language, and the cries of war of a group of muscled soldiers that charged into the unknown.

By now the patriotic song had increased its pace and each time it looped back Robert could understand more words of the song.

A new language and sense of self was slowly being embedded into his brain until the point that he could perfectly understand the lyrics of the song.

Suddenly as fast as it had begun the visor turned off and retracted upwards, and the headphones stopped playing the song.

Robert's eyes were blinded for a moment as his eyes adjusted to the sunlight that was sipping in through the delicate material of the tent.

-"лайно" (Shit!) Robert said not noticing his deeper voice and change in language.

-"Amazing, you have to be the best one yet" the man who was observing Robert's change said as he got up from his stool and walked towards him.

-"про що ти говориш?" (What are you talking about?) Robert said while finally noticing that he was speaking a foreign language.

-"By the looks of it your Ukrainian is perfect" the man said ignoring Robert's question -"And your body is as well".

Robert looked down once the man had said this and he jumped from the chair as he noticed his huge body, he looked like one of the bodybuilders he had admired on YouTube, his whole body was filled to the brim with muscle.

-"Careful big guy" the man said as he grabbed Robert's muscled arms -"You almost hit the visor".

-"Vat did yu do to me?" Robert asked worried in a heavily accented English as the headphones he was wearing were pulled out of his ears by the much smaller man that had previously attended him, he then proceed to remove the needle and patched up the small opening it had produced.

-"Nothing much" the man said in a calm demeanor -"You wanted to support the cause and now you can, in a more direct manner obviously".

As the man said that a group of people entered the room and started cleaning it, picking up the fragments of clothing from the floor and preparing the machine for a future victim.

-"Vut how?" Robert asked as he was directed away from his seat, and towards a mirror by the man.

-"Don't think about it" the man said -"It's just genetic military technology from the 80s, the cold war was heating up, we needed an upper hand against the Soviets and all that other bullshit...".

-"Oly zhit" Robert said interrupting the man as he observed his new body in the mirror, somehow it looked even more impressive than before, he even had the sudden urge to flex his muscles which he quickly obliged to.

-"All of them do the same thing" thought the man as he turned around and noticed that his crew had already cleaned the room and left, leaving behind only a small pile of clothes on top of the table that was situated close to the machine.

-"Okay bud I know you must be enjoying this but it's time to get you ready" the man said in a commanding tone.

-"Ready?" Robert asked as he turned around -"Ready for vat?".

-"To get you shipped to Ukraine" the man said as he walked towards the table and grabbed the clothes.

-"But vait" Robert interrupted -"Vat bout ma famely?"

-"They will receive a notice that you volunteered to be a general worker in Ukraine, and because of the chaos there you won't be able to communicate with them either way".

-"Oh," Robert thought as he looked down at himself once more.

-"Now get ready, you'll be assigned to your new unit immediately" The man said as he gave the clothes to Robert.

-"Vat if I want to go hom? Robert asked as he removed his tattered underwear leaving his large sausage exposed.

-"The machine that did this to you stored some of your blood that can be used to synthetase a serum that will transform you into your original self".

Robert listened but didn't respond as he geared himself with the clothes he had been given, once everything was in place he walked towards the mirror he had been posing in earlier and looked at how the uniform bulged around his body.

-"Vat am a kid" Robert suddenly said "I now cero bout war".

-"The machine has already taken care of that, it not only implanted the Ukrainian language into your head but also military strategy and even medical knowledge as the front lines need soldiers and medics alike".

As the man said that Robert started to explore his mind and he quickly found out that the man was right, his mind was filled with military experience and discipline, he even knew how to fire a gun despite never having touched one in his life.

The more Robert explored he quickly found out that he now possessed the sufficient knowledge to perform even the most complex surgeries the battlefield may require of him.

-Zhit" Robert said as the man walked towards him.

-"It's time to go" he said as Robert turned around and followed him out of the tent, after a short walk they reached one of the buses from before.

The door of said bus opened automatically and Robert was instructed to enter by the man who then walked away towards the tent and his crew who were busy moving Robert's car and belongings away towards an undisclosed location.

As Robert entered the bus he was surprised to see at least thirty men that looked similar to him in terms of musculature, yet some were taller or older but despite this Robert felt like he was surrounded by his new family.

Robert walked to the back of the bus where he sat down alone, as the engine of the bus grumbled to life and the bus pushed forward out of the parking lot he could only imagine what fate awaited him, at least he had a purpose now Robert though as he slightly smiled while looking out of the window.

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Hey guys! Hope you like this story, it's slightly more political and it touches on a more delicate and present topic (I wanted to make this story around January thinking that what is happening today was impossible, yet I guess I was wrong), anyways I hope that doesn't stop you from enjoying it, with that said stay safe and take care 😇.

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#race change #mental change #age progression #solo story #male transformation #male tf #straight to gay #dumber #reality change #transformation

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chadgolden · 3 months ago

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The Master of Magic

Words by Aardvark Illustrations by Theobromic

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“They didn’t have a ticket for him,” Jeremy heard the girl on the couches whispering. He kept his head down, eyes locked on his phone, but felt the heads turning to look at him. Jeremy knew it wasn’t a personal slight. He was the last student on the alphabetical list. At some point between sending the roster to the theater box office and the tickets being confirmed, “Jeremy Williams” got chopped off. It was an innocent mistake. His chaperone felt horrible. And none of that made Jeremy feel less shitty about it.

Jeremy was fine with his social status. He was introverted and fine with a small, tight circle of friends instead of everyone knowing his name. Everyone thought of him as the quiet kid, which was true. He was more of a listener. He didn’t like attention. But that didn’t mean he liked being the odd man out, either, and this class trip kept making him feel like one. He’d gotten roomed with guys he didn’t know instead of the friends he’d requested. He’d gotten to breakfast late and once again had to sit at a table where he knew no one. And now, he was going to a magic show alone.

That was the apologetic box office attendant’s solution: the magic show. The theater offered a complimentary ticket to the opening night of Magic & Might. They had one seat available, while the rest of Jeremy’s group - parents, chaperones, students - had tickets to Cirque du Soleil. There was a scramble when they realized they were a ticket short and it was Jeremy who didn’t have one. Two adults both volunteered to give Jeremy theirs, but he didn’t want to make it a big deal. And the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea of being on his own for a couple hours, without having to be “on” socially. Since the theaters were in the same building, the adults okayed it as long as Jeremy agreed to watch his phone and meet the group at Guest Services immediately after.

That was the end of the kerfuffle, but for the next hour the rumors spread throughout the group: that the quiet kid was skipping the show, or that he’d lost his ticket, or that he’d purposely been left off the list. Jeremy tuned it out as best he could, chatting with his friends during the group dinner and insisting he was fine with the solution. But he felt so self-conscious knowing people were talking about him. He wanted to flip up the hood of his sweatshirt, pull his baseball cap over his eyes, and cinch the hoodie strings so tight they covered his face.

Finally, it was time to go to the show. Jeremy knew everyone would still be talking about him, but at least he wouldn’t have to listen to it. He promised his chaperones he’d turn his phone back on as soon as the show was out, and wouldn’t go outside until he met up with the group.

Since it was opening night of Magic & Might, Jeremy felt honored to be in the audience. He noticed that the people filing in were dressed nicer than the crowd for Cirque du Soleil - there were even some men in tuxes. There was a photo op where people could have their pictures taken by the poster, but Jeremy skipped it because he didn’t want to ask a stranger to take one of him. The poster was a black background with the words “MAGIC & MIGHT” made out of smoke and mystical blue sparks, and beneath the logo was a big gold banner that read “Opening Night!” It didn’t say anything about the show, and Jeremy hoped it wasn’t cheesy.

“Hi there,” said an usher as Jeremy walked in. “With anyone?”

“No, just me.”

The woman looked surprised but smiled as she took his ticket. Her eyebrows raised. “Quite a seat! Fourth row on the aisle! You must have friends in high places,” she said, leading Jeremy down to the front of the stage. She handed him a program, which Jeremy barely noticed because he was craning his neck to take in his surroundings. The theater was bigger than the ones back home, with three levels. “How many seats are in here?” he asked.

“About twelve-hundred,” she said. “Enjoy the show!”

Jeremy set his program on the ground and got on his phone. He tried googling things - “Magic & Might,” “Magic Might Vegas,” “What does magic might mean” - but could find nothing about the show he was about to see aside from press announcements and ticket links. Then he went to his photo reel to find pictures from the day that were suitable for posting. There weren’t many. Not that one…he didn’t like how skinny he looked, and his smile was weird…delete…next one, eyes closed, delete…next, pimple front and center, definitely delete. He didn’t care about social media as much as his peers but this trip felt like something worth commemorating. He finally landed on a good picture of him; it was a group shot, him and two of his friends and three girls from their class, all standing in front of the fountains. He wasn’t the shortest since he was next to girls, and his long bangs covered the breakout on his forehead. Perfect. That was the post.

“Remember, no phones during the show,” the same usher reminded him as she returned to seat another group. Jeremy just nodded. The service was so patchy in the theater that it wouldn’t matter much anyway. His texts weren’t going through, so he put his phone on airplane mode and played games to pass the time. He tuned in and out of the conversations around him - “is this going to be corny?”; “oooh, it says there will be strobe lights”; “Diane said he’s extremely handsome” - but noticed the theater was getting quite full. The buzz was palpable and helped Jeremy forget the circumstances that led him there. He just hoped for cool magic, nothing too kiddie.

A deep voice announced over the speakers, “Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats and turn off all cellular devices. The show is about to begin.” Jeremy put his phone away and sat back in his seat, watching the last stragglers hurry to their seats. He felt lucky to be near the action, especially since the show looked to be sold out. Maybe he was close enough to see how the tricks actually worked.

The lights went out with a loud crack of synthesized sound, making Jeremy jump in his seat. Audience members gave nervous titters around him. For several moments the theater was pitch black, with electronic underscoring ringing through the speakers. Then, the music sped up and became more epic - it reminded Jeremy of a war movie. Lasers and lights swirled around the proscenium, and then on the right of the stage was a blast of fire that revealed the silhouette of a man in front of it.

The audience cheered. The man could only be glimpsed before the flame died out, but a moment later, the same effect happened on the left of the stage, too much of a distance for the man to have covered in a few seconds. More cheering, and then the whole back of the stage erupted with flame - Jeremy felt the heat - and this time, the large black outline of the man didn’t go away, but walked dramatically toward the front of the stage as the lights and lasers swirled around him. When he got under the stage lights and could be fully seen, the women around Jeremy gasped. The man was shirtless and jacked to kingdom come. His shoulders rippled visibly as he swaggered to the front of the stage, biceps undulating under the skin as he flexed them. His legs were clad in a pair of leather pants tight enough to show the cuts of muscle through the material. He was fair with Nordic features, a swoop of gelled blond hair, and blue eyes that looked like they could shoot ice out over the audience.

The burly blond bodybuilder raised his hands in triumph, and the audience clapped. Jeremy had never seen a man so muscular in person, only on magazine covers. He was glad he wasn’t with his classmates, because he could just imagine them giggling and making rude comments about the guy.

“Good evening!” the man bellowed to more applause. “Ladies and gentlemen, you are in for the experience of a lifetime tonight, courtesy of the Master of Magic. You will not believe your eyes. Your belief in the very fabric of reality will be put to the test. There are no wires. There are no mirrors. There are no tricks up my sleeves,” he smirked, flexing his naked arms to feminine shrieks of joy from the audience. “TONIGHT! The Master of Magic invites you, his audience, into his world. All you have to do is…believe. Do you believe, Las Vegas?!”

The crowd, including Jeremy, responded yes.

“I am not the Master of Magic you all are here to see tonight. I am his humble assistant, Oliver.” Oliver had a posh British accent that made everything he said sound a tad snide. “And before the Master arrives himself, he has asked me to perform something of my own to set the mood. Will you indulge me, my friends?” Oliver thumped his beefy chest to roars from the crowd. “Thank you. For our first display of magic, I will require a participant from the audience.”

Hands shot up all around Jeremy, but he sat on his own and shrank down in his seat. The last thing he wanted was to go up on stage in front of over a thousand people. Thankfully, there were plenty of people volunteering all around him. A drumroll joined into the electronic underscoring as two spotlights searched the crowd, and then with a loud sting, they both locked on the same seat. Jeremy’s.

Jeremy went pale under the glare of the spotlights. He looked to his left, hoping that it was his neighbor who’d been selected. “Young man, come join me on stage, please,” Oliver boomed.

Jeremy shook his head. He hadn’t volunteered, he didn’t want to! He realized he’d been chosen because he was close to the stage and on the aisle - quick and accessible - and it annoyed him that he hadn’t noticed the risk of audience participation when he’d sat down. Oliver was still motioning for him, so Jeremy slowly stood up, the color draining out of him as he eased onto his feet. The crowd was cheering, but it just made him feel like throwing up.

Oliver extended a veiny hand that Jeremy shook limply. “Pleasure to meet you,” the buff Brit said. “Please inform the crowd of your name.”

“J-Jeremy.” Jeremy had never felt smaller inside the cavernous theater next to the most muscular man he’d ever seen.

“A bit louder?” Oliver leaned in, holding a handheld microphone closer.

“Jeremy. Jeremy Williams.”

“Applause for Mr. Jeremy Williams, everyone!”

More cheering. Jeremy forced a smile but felt bile rise in his throat when he looked out into the dark theater and saw how far away the back of it was.

“How old are you, Jeremy?”

“17,” Jeremy said, rounding up.

“Got a girlfriend?”

Jeremy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Uhm, no, I-”

“First time in Vegas?” Oliver interrupted. Jeremy only nodded, so Oliver asked another question: “First time at a magic show?”

“Yeah.”

“And to confirm, you and I have never met before?”

“No, never.” Jeremy realized the synth underscoring was holding one long, steady chord as he and Oliver spoke.

“And you are not a hired actor, correct?”

“Uhm, yes, correct,” Jeremy nodded, having trouble focusing on what Oliver was saying since he was so nervous. There was something familiar about Oliver’s voice - maybe he’d heard it on a commercial? He couldn’t place it, but he recognized it.

Oliver rested his hand on Jeremy’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I think he’s a little nervous, everyone. Can we get a cheer going for Jeremy? JER-E-MY, JER-E-MY!” The audience took the prompt and kept going as Oliver bellowed over them. “Ladies and gentlemen, what you are about to see is not a nightly occurrence! This is not a standard Vegas trick! This is a once-in-a-lifetime moment - real magic, right before your eyes! Jeremy Williams! Are you ready?!”

“I, uh…” Jeremy looked over at Oliver, who was backing away, arms outstretched and palms facing forward. Jeremy wondered if he was supposed to walk with the assistant, but his nerves kept him rooted to his spot, knees knocking together. Finally, he nodded. Oliver rotated his hands palms up and tensed his fingers, then threw a wink Jeremy’s way.

When Jeremy saw the wink, he felt better. His legs stopped shaking and he smiled at Oliver, who smiled back. But Oliver’s smile seemed to be getting further away, somehow… Jeremy’s stomach dropped like it did before going over a rollercoaster, and then he heard murmurs and gasps from the crowd, along with claps scattered throughout the theater. Had the trick even started yet?

Jeremy suddenly jolted when he realized his feet weren’t touching anything. He looked down and gasped in shock. He was floating several feet above the stage, and still rising. “Hey! Hey!” he yelped, shaking his limbs wildly. There was nothing to grab onto, and nowhere safe to land if he fell.

“Not real…” Jeremy whispered under his breath, his voice squeaky and airless. “This isn’t real–” He shot forward ten feet, suddenly no longer hovering over the stage, but the audience themselves. People in the front two rows turned around to look up at him. Jeremy hoped he was floating back down to his seat - that would be quite an effective trick, and he had no idea how this was being done - but instead, he rose even higher, reaching twenty feet in the air. He could see the eyes of the people in the first balcony.

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#age progression #illustration #transformation #suit #model #mental change #male transformation #male tf #race change #straight to gay

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chadgolden · 3 months ago

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The House Always Wins

This was published on Patreon in November and quickly became one of my most popular stories, so much so that my generous patron Davy commissioned an illustration of it from the incredible Baraland! Remember, there are several publicly unavailable stories on my Patreon - plus illustrations of my OCs, progress pics, and more. The more patrons I get, the quicker I can get new stories to you, so sign up today!

Aardvark: Twitter | Patreon | Ko-fi | Pay-Pal Baraland: Twitter | Patreon

Las Vegas. The city was a million gleaming gold lights on the horizon as far as the eye could see, like a limitless spool of sequined fabric. On a night with the moon and stars obscured by clouds, it looked like the sky had flipped upside down - like the cars on the road were driving directly into the galaxy.

It was so much bigger than Isaac McDaniel realized. He thought Las Vegas was only the Strip - a stretch of casinos and debauchery you could drive right through. The metropolis in the distance proved him wrong, and he immediately switched to his mom’s side of the current family argument.

“We don’t have to stop on the Strip,” Isaac’s mother was saying in the front seat, “but we need to stop. Isaac is too tired to take over driving from you.”

“It’s expensive,” his dad murmured, eyes on the road.

“Yes, but we’re all exhausted.”

“We’ve been driving for eleven hours, Dad,” Isaac said.

“I know,” came the snippy response. “I’m tired too.”

Isaac pulled up a travel app on his phone. After a few minutes of scrolling, he’d already found a deal. “RoomsTonight has one for $76, and I can get a connected one so I don’t have to sleep in the same room as you and Mom…I’d just need your credit card to hold it.”

“Probably a dump.”

“No, it’s at Oasis! It says four stars.” Isaac didn’t mention that it was on the Strip.

Silence followed. Isaac saw his mom and dad looking at each other, telepathically communicating in the way parents did. “Have you prayed over this, Isaac? Do you think the Lord is okay with us staying there?”

“Yes,” Isaac said confidently. He was sure it was fine. They were always fine. He wasn’t lying, because he’d thought ‘please let there be a deal’ and there was. That was definitely God answering his prayer.

“Okay, reserve it. But there will be no looking at the casino area, if there is one. No eye traps.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Remember Philippians 1:27. ’Only conduct yourselves in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ.’”

“Yes ma’am.”

--------

“He’s been in there a while,” Isaac said, as they sat under the awning of the hotel and waited for Mr. McDaniel to return.

“Perhaps seeing if this is a wise decision for our family,” his mom said dramatically.

“I thought you wanted to stop too?”

“I did! I’m glad we’re here. But we also want to be careful of snares.”

“Right, right.” Isaac wanted to be good just like his parents wanted to. He just thought they were a little overly cautious sometimes. He’d seen the pictures of the rooms; it was a normal hotel. It wasn’t like there’d be harlots waiting for them at check-in. Did Vegas even have those anymore?

Isaac’s father hustled up to the car and opened the passenger door. “We’re checked in, but they didn’t have the double room they advertised online - they honored the price, but Isaac gets his own.”

Isaac’s face lit up and his father's darkened.

“It’s on a different floor, too. You will go right to bed, young man, is that understood? Don’t even turn on your television.”

“Yes sir.”

“Now, get the bags, please. I don’t want to have to tip anyone.”

Isaac scrambled out of the car and got his and his mom’s bags, even saying “We’re okay, thanks!” to an approaching bellhop. He was so weighed down with his backpack and the suitcases that he was halfway through the lobby before he heard the squeals and bells. Without thinking, he turned his head and realized he was looking at the casino, where a slot machine was going crazy with activity as a lady in a minidress clapped her hands and screamed in front of it. Her breasts bounced up and down...up and down…

Isaac snapped his head away before his parents saw him looking, but he couldn’t get the woman’s chest out of his mind. It was wrong to think about it. One day he’d have a wife, but until then, breasts were off limits. And yet, they remained in his head all the way up to the room. Up and down, up and down, up and down!

“What’s your room number?” his mom asked.

Isaac looked at his keycard. “17-45,” he said quickly, knowing the reason for the question was so his parents could call to check in on him. He felt sorry for Room 17-45 and hoped the call didn’t wake them up, since he was actually in 17-48. This way, if the mix-up was discovered, he could say the ‘8’ was smudged to look like a ‘5’.

The elevator stopped at 17, and Isaac got out.

“Do you want me to walk you to your room?” his mom asked.

“No, I’ve got it. Thanks. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight. Have a sweet sleep with Jesus,” she responded, and Isaac smiled and waved as the doors closed and his parents departed. Then he heaved out a big sigh and rolled his suitcase down the hall, thinking about how this was the first time he’d ever had his own hotel room. But he needed to behave. He was going to Bible college soon. He had ideals to uphold.

But he’d never been to Vegas, though, and he’d probably never go again. It wasn’t the place that real Christians hung out. There wasn’t even a Gideon Bible in his bedside table. And yet, the exhaustion he’d felt in the car was gone, replaced by curiosity about this strange town. He didn’t even need to go outside to see what a casino was like. He could just walk through the lobby...and if one of his parents happened to see him, he could say he thought he’d lost something, and was retracing his steps.

But that would be a lie, and lying was wrong…

Isaac weighed all his options as he took off the t-shirt he’d worn in the car and put on a fresh white one with a gold cross embroidered on the front pocket. He swapped out his sweats for jeans and slid on a pair of New Balance sneakers, then looked at himself in the mirror.

No, going out was the wrong thing to do. He’d stay in the room. He plopped down on the foot of his bed and turned on the TV.

Immediately, he was assaulted by images of square-jawed muscle guys grinding against the air, set to a soundtrack of female screams. “‘STUD FARM’,” blared a deep voice. “Vegas’s #1 Girls Night Out-”

Isaac turned the TV off, horrified, and suddenly remembered his dad telling him not to turn on the TV. He’d already sinned. Dang it! The inside of his room came with just as many traps as the outside!

He’d already been disobedient without even meaning to be, so maybe it would be good to take a walk around the hotel and clear his head. It wasn’t even about the casino. It was just about being in a city he’d never visited. Of course he was curious, just as he’d be in any new city. It didn’t matter that it was Sin City. He was just exploring…

“Just exploring,” Isaac whispered to himself as he left his room and crept down the hall.

Vegas hotels were so big. The night prior, the McDaniels stayed at a Hampton Inn, where the elevators, breakfast area, front desk, and parking lot were all about ten steps from each other. But this time when Isaac got off the elevator, he had a three minute walk to just reach the lobby, and another minute to walk through it and into the casino area.

He walked in wide-eyed, suddenly surrounded by fuzzy green tables and a haze of smoke. The action was more subdued than earlier in the evening, but there was still plenty to see: flashes of neon, stabs of sudden noise, and the most diverse array of people Isaac had ever seen. Some were done up to the nines and ready for a night out, others looked like they hadn’t showered for a week.

There were no barricades to surpass, but Isaac still felt like he was breaking a shield as he walked off the lobby tile and stepped onto the soft carpet that marked the beginning of the casino area. He’d entered another world, one with fluorescent skies and questionable morals. But how would he ever heal the world if he didn’t know what it needed healing from? This was research. He couldn’t be ignorant to what people enjoyed if he was ever going to witness to them.

In one corner of the floor, away from the majority of the people, was a slot machine with angel wings jutting out of the back of it. Those attracted Isaac’s attention, and he got a few steps closer before seeing the top of the machine sported devil horns. The screen said “ON YOUR SHOULDER” and flashed between a tiny angel on one side of a man’s shoulder, and a tiny devil on the other. “ARE YOU GOOD OR BAD?”

No one was looking.

No one would see…

Isaac put in fifty cents and pulled the lever. His hand almost slipped off the knob because of the sweat in his palm.

The machine played the sound of an angel choir interlaid with an evil laugh, as the three wheels spun hypnotically before Isaac’s eyes. He couldn’t believe he’d actually gambled, but his guilt was eased by the fact that it didn’t give him any sort of rush. Plus he didn’t have more coins, so this was the end. Just a small experiment.

The third reel stopped first. It said ‘JACKPOT.’ Isaac’s breath stopped for a few seconds, until the second reel stopped and didn’t match. It read, ‘BOY.’

“Huh,” Isaac muttered.

Then the first reel stopped.

‘BAD.’

“Bad Boy Jackpot,” Isaac said. He looked down to check if a fountain of coins were being expelled from the machine, but there was no activity of any kind. Either it was a jackpot with no prize, or he hadn’t won. He assumed it was the latter, though the devil horns on top were strobing red, which was kind of cool.

When a tall, fat man in a black suit appeared next to the machine, Isaac wondered if the guy was here to give him winnings - until he saw the man’s scowl. “You’re not old enough to play this,” the guy snarled.

Isaac shrank back when he saw the man had a name tag pinned to his jacket - ‘D. SOARES, Security.’ “Sorry, I’ll go,” he said meekly, turning to speed walk out of there.

“No you won’t. You broke the law. Let me see your ID.”

The law...he’d broken the law?! Oh crap...oh CRAP...Isaac could barely get his driver’s license out because his hands were shaking so badly. As he handed it to the man, he imagined himself behind bars.

The man looked at the license with a furrowed expression. “You’re 21?” He stared at Isaac, then back at the license. “Shit, you don’t look 21.”

Isaac didn’t answer for fear of saying something wrong. He just took his ID back while the man mumbled an apology. “Sorry about that. But damn, you don’t look 21.”

“It’s okay,” Isaac squeaked out, and the man left him alone. Isaac collapsed against a table, clutching his heart in relief. “Thank you God,” he whispered. A miracle had been performed, and because of it, Isaac knew he wasn’t doing the wrong thing. If God was mad that Isaac was at a casino, He would’ve let Isaac get in trouble, no question. Instead, He’d made the man read Isaac’s age as 21, even when it was clearly-

Isaac blinked as he looked at his license in his hand. Picture was right. Name was right. Address was right. But the birthday... It really did say he was 21. The man hadn’t misread the ID; the ID was wrong. And somehow Isaac never noticed they’d messed up his birthday at the DMV.

He put his license away right as he heard a female voice ask, “You playing?” Isaac turned to see an Asian woman and three middle aged men looking at him, and he realized he’d fallen against some kind of gambling thing. He’d played Blackjack on his computer a few times, before his parents realized it had come with the computer and uninstalled it. But this didn’t look like Blackjack. He just didn’t know what it was.

“Are you playing, sir?” the dealer asked again, and being called ‘sir’ sent a chill up Isaac’s spine. He didn’t want to say no after that showing of respect.

“Uh, sure, but I don’t know how.”

“Just bet the Pass Line,” one of the men said.

So Isaac did. He took a ten dollar bill out of his wallet and placed it on the pass line, his second bet of the night. He didn’t know what he was doing, or even how he could potentially win, but when the dealer rolled the dice and the men all cheered, he had a feeling he’d won again. He couldn’t believe it! And this time it came with real money, his ten dollars becoming twenty. He bet again, and once more the men cheered. He’d turned ten bucks into forty in the blink of an eye, and his whole body was tingling with excitement.

“Those are my first wins!” Isaac said excitedly to the man next to him, a short, bald guy whose bright red polo shirt and round face made him look somewhat like Santa Claus.

“No kiddin’!” The man smiled and clapped his hand on Isaac’s back. “That calls for a cigar!”

“Oh, I don’t-” Isaac started to say, but the man produced a little brown tube from his pants pocket and slapped it into Isaac’s palm. “I don’t smoke,” Isaac said.

“Psh, it’s barely smoking. You don’t even inhale, you just enjoy the flavors. It’s not like a cigarette. Don’t be worried by all those scary ads they used to show ya in school, those are about cigarettes.” The man took the tiny cigar and raised it to Isaac’s mouth, and Isaac hesitantly let him place it between his lips.

“Is smoking actually allowed in here?” Isaac asked, not wanting to get in trouble again. The cigar bobbed up and down as he spoke out of the side of his mouth.

“Of course it is, kid! It’s Vegas!” The man raised a lighter and before Isaac knew it, the tip of the cigar was smoldering. “Now don’t give me that scared Boy Scout look,” the guy laughed. “This is called a petit corona, it’s barely a cigar at all. You might as well be suckin’ on a lollipop.”

That made Isaac feel better, so he took in a breath and held down a cough. The flavors were there, but so mild they were hard to describe, aside from the odd sensation of suddenly smelling the woods. Isaac’s hand visibly trembled as he removed the cigar from his mouth and expelled a little plume of smoke.

“Name’s Roy, by the way.”

“I’m Isaac.”

“A good Christian name for a good Christian boy,” Roy smiled.

“How’d you know I was a Christian?”

“Because you look like a scared, lost little mouse in here,” Roy laughed. “Don’t worry kid, my wife and I go to church too. You ain’t going to hell for smoking one of those.”

That made Isaac feel better, although he hated being described that way, accurate as he knew it was. “Well…” he said, rolling the little cigar between his fingers like he did his pencil during English class, “I do...I do kinda like it.”

“Kinda?!” Roy teased.

“I like it, how’s that?” Isaac smiled, putting the cigar back between his lips. It felt heavier, suddenly. “Just don’t let my parents see.”

“Your parents?! You gotta be 21 to be in here, so I’d hope you weren’t worried about them.” Roy took a drag off his own cigar. “I’m gonna grab a drink, c’mon, let’s get you one too.”

“Oh, I don’t…” Isaac started to say, but Roy was already walking toward the big circular bar in the middle of the casino, so Isaac tailed behind, relishing the taste of his cigar more and more. The smoke was pretty - so white and refined, plumes curling out from his mouth. His parents would be so mad at him if they knew. Good thing hotels had mouthwash. Otherwise he’d smell like cigars. And maybe liquor, too. Did liquor have a smell? He imagined himself sitting in the backseat of the family car, filling it with the smell of smoke and booze. Maybe he’d even smoke in there, ignoring his parents’ disdain, spreading his legs and fondling his crotch while smoking a long, fat cigar...

Suddenly, he got hard. He tried to shake it off as soon as he felt that evil sweetness but his wickedness bloomed with such fury that his breath caught.

“You’re not being bad,” Isaac whispered to himself as he walked up to Roy’s round form at the bar. As he sidled up next to his new friend, he angled his waist below the bar so his erection would be hidden.

“Here we go, kid, martini straight up.” Roy slid over a triangular shaped glass full of clear liquid.

“Isn’t this the James Bond drink?!” Isaac asked excitedly. He wasn’t allowed to watch those movies, but he’d seen two of them at a friends’ house once.

“A martini, yep. Cheers.” Roy clinked his glass against Isaac’s and took a sip. Isaac, unsure of what else to do, followed suit. It felt like he’d poured rubbing alcohol down his throat. He gagged and hoped Roy didn’t see.

“Oh that’s...strong,” Isaac sputtered.

“Strong?! They water this shit down,” Roy chuckled. “So, Isaac, tell me about yourself. You’re 21?”

“22,” Isaac said.

“A third my age,” Roy laughed. “No wonder you look so young, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. You from Vegas?”

“Yeah, I live here.” Isaac didn’t know why he said it. It was a lie. No, Roy was a stranger and he didn’t want Roy knowing too much about him. That was all. He was just being safe, like his mom and dad taught him to be. Gosh, he hoped they weren’t calling that random room. What would he do if they figured out it was the wrong room...would they go down to check on him? Or worse, call the front desk and find out his real room number. What would they do then? He’d be in so much trouble.

“You smoke that cigar really well for it being your first one.”

“Thanks,” Isaac smiled, looking at his cigar between his fingers again. “It looks thicker,” he observed.

“That’s a big momma for sure. What is that? A 60 ring gauge?”

“Uh, yeah,” Isaac said, because that number sounded big. Hadn’t Roy said the cigar was small? This one was not small. It looked an inch in diameter and stuck out half a foot from Isaac’s face when he held it in his mouth.

“Smelly, too.”

A pungent, earthy aroma assaulted Isaac’s nostrils. He saw a couple heads turning, looking for the source of the scent. The cigar stank of spice and dirt. He’d thought it was subtle, but now he could smell it and taste it all the way down his throat, up in his sinuses…

...and it made his erection pulse. “I like the stinky ones.”

“Nothing like a big, smelly cigar,” Roy agreed. “This your first one?”

“Yeah, but definitely not my last.” Isaac expelled a thick white plume of smoke. “Maybe I’ll be a cigar guy. I like seeing everyone looking around, trying to figure out what the smell is.” He took a drink of his martini. It burned less this time. Or maybe his head was already swimming. He couldn’t tell. He took a long drag off his massive cigar and filled the air with white smoke.

“You havin’ a good night, kid?” Roy laughed, watching Isaac relish the process.

“So good. I just feel...I don’t know, different.”

“Everyone’s different in Vegas. That’s why my wife and I come here! The adventure!”

“Where is your wife, anyhow?”

“Asleep,” Roy said with a roll of his eyes. “She had a lot of pasta at dinner and said she was done for the night.”

“Women,” Isaac joked.

“Ain’t that the truth.”

Isaac didn’t know if it was. He cheersed and took another drink nonetheless. His vision was blurry. He was getting tipsy off his first drink. Stupid inexperience. He focused on smoking his stogie in an attempt to sober up. “I dunno if this sounds dumb, but...I feel like a man smoking a cigar.”

“Do you not usually?” Roy looked up at Isaac quizzically.

“No. I feel like a little kid the rest of the time. But tonight I feel grown up. Like I can do anything.” Isaac glugged down more of his martini. “I like it. I like feeling like a man.”

“Welcome to the rest of your life!”

Isaac hoped that was true. He’d never felt like a man living under his parents’ thumb. Literally one night away from them had him seeing himself in a whole new light. He took in his deepest drag yet and blew smoke out of his nose and mouth, and the overwhelming aroma got him even harder. That was probably sinful, but he couldn’t control it - he wasn’t trying to get an erection, after all, he just had one. It was part of being a man. “Can I get you a drink, Roy? Since you got me one?”

“Nah, I’ll get this next round too. I have so many drink tickets I don’t know what to do with ‘em. What’ll you have?”

“Scotch.” Isaac had never had it before. He didn’t know what it was - he’d just heard it mentioned in movies. But tonight was his chance to try it. So when the bartender plopped down a hearty pour of amber liquor, Isaac gulped down a third of it in one sip. His throat burned, his penis throbbed. It tasted like a liquid campfire. “That is…so good,” he said, licking his lips. “Thank you, Roy.”

“Any time, kid. But with how tall you are, I probably shouldn’t be calling you that.”

“I’m not tall,” Isaac said with a resigned smile. “I’m five-foot-eight and I’m probably done growing.”

“Did I hear you right? Five-eight? This music is loud,” Roy said, leaning in. “Well, you might wanna measure again, because I’m five-seven, and…” He trailed off but moved his hand from the top of his head to the same height on Isaac’s body: chest level. “I’d say you’re six-one or six-two.”

“No, that can’t...be right…” Isaac looked down, the haze of cigar smoke around him obscuring his vision. He fought back a smile. He knew he wasn’t tall. He just looked tall. But it sure was a convincing illusion, and the booze was easing his worry. He imagined himself towering over his dad and bossing him around. “I...I’m tall? I’m tall! Cheers to THAT!” He clinked his glass against Roy’s and drank another mouthful, swallowing with a whoop of excitement. “Vegas, baby!”

Roy laughed at the scene. “Well, if your parents are here like you mentioned, have them buy you some new clothes.”

“I’m here alone,” Isaac said, pushing his worries about being discovered down, down, beneath layers of cigar smoke and whiskey. “I live alone. I have my own place. My parents don’t live in Vegas. I do whatever I want.”

“Well, okay then,” Roy said, chuckling at the insistent barrage. “And what do you want to do now, then?”

“Drink and smoke. ‘Cause it makes me feel like a man.” That wasn’t all he wanted to do, he thought, as his gaze fell on a woman in a tight black dress, his erection tugging at him like a dog on a leash. But no, that would be really wrong - he was being bad enough drinking and smoking. And what would he do anyway, aside from make an idiot of himself the moment he opened his mouth. He didn’t know anything about women period, let alone sex with them. No, he’d go back to his room alone - that was the right thing to do - but maybe he’d mix himself a Jack & Coke from the minibar and smoke cigars all night long to ease the loneliness.

“She’s got a great rack, you’re right.”

“Huh?!”

Roy flicked his head toward the woman in the black dress. “She’s got great tits. I see you staring.”

“I wasn’t staring!” Isaac sputtered, tiny clouds puffing from his mouth. “And you’re married!”

“I have eyes. She wants people to stare at her tits, I’m gonna stare at her tits. Doesn’t mean I don’t respect her or my wife. It’s not like I’m cheating.”

Isaac had never heard any churchgoer talk like Roy. He wondered what the heck sort of church Roy went to. Couldn’t be a good one. “I just want to be respectful,” he mumbled awkwardly, turning his back to keep himself from staring more.

“You’re a good kid, Isaac. Don’t worry about that. Everyone can tell. I gotta take a leak, I’ll be back.” Roy slapped Isaac’s back and stumbled off toward the men’s room, leaving Isaac alone with his whiskey and cigar.

The bartender came over and dumped more Scotch into Isaac’s glass. “You seem tense,” he said, replacing what Isaac had already drank, and then some. “Relax. It’s Vegas.”

“You’re trying to get me drunk,” Isaac said.

“Absolutely,” the bartender smiled, and he walked away.

Isaac swirled the ice in his drink and thought about the conversation. How did the bartender know he was nervous...was it that obvious? Why didn’t he come off like a Vegas guy? People knew he was a goodie-two-shoes churchgoer with one look, even after he’d started drinking and smoking. He knew his posture was bad - his parents were always telling him as much - so he stood up as straight as he could, which made him dizzy thanks to how tall he was. That had to be the booze making him feel like he was floating, but he did like the feeling.

He was gonna be in so much trouble.

No he wasn’t, they weren’t going to find out.

Isaac set his glass down on the bar with an annoyed sigh. There he went again, worrying about his parents. It was never even about God judging him, it was about his mom and dad. They were always holding him back. He wanted to break free. And it felt un-Christian anyway, to hold them in more regard than God. If he needed correction, God would issue it, wouldn’t he?

As Isaac weighed these philosophical questions, he didn’t notice he’d rested both his hands on top of cocktail napkins, and the napkins were starting to curl inward like wilting flowers. They wrapped around his slender wrists as he wondered what his dad would even do now that he was almost off to Bible college. There was nothing to ground him from, no fun privileges to take away that the Lord hadn’t already forbidden…

Isaac took a sip of his drink, missing the white napkin that had encircled his wrist like a bracelet. As he set the glass back down, the fabric around his wrists began to flatten and extend outward, ironing itself crisply against his forearm, until it covered three inches of skin. The casino’s emblem on the napkin was perfectly situated to rise out of the heavy, starched fabric and take on a new shape as it became shiny and solid. Isaac raised his cigar to his mouth, hypnotized by the burning tip and not the detached French cuff he was sporting around his wrist like an odd bangle, with a gleaming gold cufflink the size of a 25 cent piece. The cufflinks made an audible clink as he set his hands back down on the bar.

Where the heck was Roy anyway? Maybe lost somewhere - it was easy to get turned around in a place this big, where the only real marker was which slot machine you last saw. Isaac was getting tired of waiting, so he sat down in a plush chair and enjoyed his cigar, his French cuffs growing in size with each drag. After a few moments of leaning back, he rocked forward and rested his elbows on his knees, revealing that the paisley pattern of the chair’s cushions had imprinted itself on the back of his t-shirt like a tattoo. Instead of fading off, the tracing intensified, lines darkening and thickening as the swirls spread across Isaac’s t-shirt, up to his shoulders and under his arms.

The white tendrils of his cigar smoke mirrored the curled teardrops that formed his shirt’s new paisley pattern. He realized whenever he moved his cigar away from his mouth, he instantly wanted it back between his lips. That probably wasn’t a good sign. Almost like he was developing cravings. He knew he was enjoying the cigar far more than a good Christian boy should, but he couldn’t help himself.

Cigar smoke cleared from his vision like a curtain going up, revealing a woman in a minidress standing two feet from him. She had a blond bob and curves like Isaac had never seen before, not even in his fantasies. Two symmetrical breasts commanded his attention. “Buy a girl a drink?” she asked, her glossy lips barely parting to form the words.

“Oh uh, um, uh--” Isaac stood up, teetering as he continued to adjust to his new height. “I’d - sure - yeah, sure,” he stammered.

“I saw how long your legs were and knew I had to talk to you; I just love tall men,” she said. “I’m Veronica.”

“I’m Isaac.” He almost asked Veronica what drink she wanted, then thought it would be more impressive if he ordered for both of them. When the bartender walked over, he said, “Two martinis, please.”

“Oh I just love martinis,” Veronica said. “How did you know?!”

“Martinis and tall men, you have good taste.” Isaac leaned against the bar and stretched as long as he could, basking in his height. “What do you like about us tall guys?”

“Bigger dicks,” Veronica smiled, her angel face and white teeth at odds with the naughty statement. “And I see you’ve got a big one for me.”

Isaac’s boner puffed even bigger in his pants. He felt his cock head throb purple. “You can see my…” he squeaked, voice cracking in surprise. When the martinis mercifully arrived, he tossed back a long swig of his. “Ahh, that’s good - man, my voice…”

“Something wrong with it?”

“It’s not usually this deep.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. I was just thinking how sexy it was. I love men with deep voices.”

“Then I meant, uh, it’s usually...deeper.” The last word emerged a full octave lower than the rest of the sentence, a silky bass that turned heads around him. Surprised by the depth, he stuck his cigar in his mouth and suckled it.

“Can I have a little taste of that?” she asked, batting her eyes. Isaac nodded and handed the cigar to Veronica, who didn’t break eye contact as she took a drag. “Mmm...I love how long and hard it is.” She blew a little smoke toward Isaac, then leaned into the cloud to dissipate it just before she kissed him.

“Mm!” Isaac lurched in shock, but the kiss lasted long enough for him to shut his eyes and stroke Veronica’s arm with his hand. His first kiss.

“You have nice lips,” she said. “And I love that scratchy little mustache.”

“M-mustache?” Isaac said, his fingers poking barely discernible bristles above his mouth. Where had those come from…

“Kiss me,” she said. So he did, harder, his hand resting on her hip before sliding around to his lower back and then, in an action that surprised even Isaac, grabbing a handful of her ass. She moaned into his mouth. “Fuck, you’re sexy,” she purred, hanging off his lips.

“I am? Well, uh...I like kissing you.” Isaac grinned, drawing attention to the new scraggly hairs protruding from his cheeks. As his face flushed with arousal, his white shirt suddenly skewed pink too, a rosy hue spreading between the paisley swirls as they formed. The cross emblazoned on his chest slowly faded from view, covered by the loud pattern.

“Yeah? What else do you want to do to me?” Veronica smiled, her baby-doll voice making Isaac’s dick so hard he had trouble breathing. She gently pushed her rack against his body, and he looked down at the biggest breasts he’d ever seen.

“I…I-I…” He fought back a smile and licked his lips, staring intently at the beauty before him. This was wrong. He was being bad, and he didn’t want to be bad, he wanted to be good. But God made women… “I-I want to touch...touch these.”

“Touch these?” She asked, cocking her head. “Oh you mean these?”

“Yes, your...your, um…” He whispered the word: “Breasts.”

She giggled. “You are so cute and shy. Call them what they are, they won’t be offended.”

“Your...your…” Isaac had to shut his eyes to say the word. “Your tits. I want to touch your tits.”

“So touch them.” She held his hand and gently guided it up to the underside of her breast, over her dress. Isaac sucked in a breath as he made contact. It was perfect - so big, round...a little hard, actually...fake. She had breast implants, which turned him on even more. He moaned.

“I want to...t-to...kiss them.” He leaned down and blew cigar smoke over the top of her cleavage, like morning mist on a mountaintop.

“Not here. Do you have somewhere we can go?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, hypnotized. “Yeah...I wanna be alone with you…”

“Mmm, your voice is so deep. It might be the deepest voice I’ve ever heard. It’s getting me wet.”

“Wet?”

She took his hand again and led it down between her thighs. She wasn’t wearing underwear, and suddenly Isaac was touching...his first…

“Oh…” Isaac exhaled and the stray peach fuzz on his face darkened. “You’re...wet…”

“What’re you gonna do about it?” she whispered.

“I’m gonna...I’m gonna…” Isaac grunted. His teeth set on edge, Adam’s apple bulging as his voice deepened even more. He put his arm around Veronica and pulled her away from the bar, leaving a trail of cigar smoke behind them as they hurried to the elevator. “I’m gonna...do...do...you.”

“Fuck yeah, baby,” she moaned. “That dick - I have to see that dick, it looks like the biggest I’ve ever seen.”

“It is.”

“I won’t even charge for it.”

“Charge?” It hit Isaac like a slap in the face. “You’re a prostitute!”

“Not for you. I’m a pure, proud slut for a stud like you.”

“A stud?” Isaac heard his rumbling bass in a different way now. He stretched another inch taller, shirt and pants hopelessly small on him even as their material and patterns morphed. The patches of growth on his cheeks and chin swirled together, and as he smiled with pride, his face shrouded itself in five o’clock shadow. Veronica reached up and stroked the whiskers, making Isaac purr like a cat as his stubble got thicker and darker by the second. “I’m a stud,” he grunted.

“You sure are. What’s a stud like you gonna do to a girl like me?”

The elevator doors opened, and Isaac pulled Veronica in, slamming the door close button to ensure they’d be alone. His cock was throbbing to the point of pain. He hit the 17 as Veronica massaged his dick through his jeans, but after two floors, he hit the emergency stop and the elevator shuddered to a halt. “I want you here...right here.”

“You can have me.” Her breasts were out of her dress, and Isaac stared at them in wide-eyed wonder, palmed them...and then leaned down to kiss them, lick them, suck them. He didn’t know if it was the correct thing to do, but judging by Veronica’s sultry moaning, he was doing something right.

Even though this was wrong. So wrong. He was being so bad...but he couldn’t control himself anymore.

“There’s security cameras. People will see,” she said, clearly unconcerned.

“Good,” Isaac grunted, as the button of his jeans burst off and he wrenched his belt free. “I want them to see. I want everyone to see me...me...f-f...fff…”

“Say it.”

“...fffFFUCK you!” Isaac chuckled after he said it, a low reverberation like distant thunder. His shirt shifted to violent shades of pink and purple, the garish paisley pattern finally completing. “I wanna fuck you...I gotta fuck you…” He’d never said the word before. It felt so good to say it. “I want to fuck your...your vagina...no…”

“My pussy!”

“Yeah, I wanna fuck your pussy. Your wet pussy. I wanna cum all over you.” What was cum? He had no idea. But it sounded right. He advanced forward, standing over her as she leaned against the corner of the elevator. “I wanna cum on your big fake tits...I wanna cum inside of you. You’re getting a creampie right here.”

“Fuck, you are dirty!” Veronica said gleefully. “I knew you had it in you…”

“And I'm gonna give it to you.”

“Fuck yeah, baby,” she cooed, wrenching Isaac’s pants down - they didn’t move easily, thanks to how small they’d gotten, and it took two pushes before his enormous cock fell out into view.

The sheer size of his dick shocked Isaac. He’d had no idea it was that big. “Is this gonna fit in you?” he asked, suddenly reconsidering his excitement. What was he doing? He couldn’t have sex with a prostitute in an elevator, he was out of his mind - he would be in trouble with his parents, with the hotel, heck, maybe even with the police…and most of all, with God...

And then Veronica pulled her skintight dress up an inch and exposed her slit.

“I'll make it fit,” he growled. “Or I'll tear you apart. Now get on your knees. I’m gonna fuck you doggystyle.”

She did so, and he hunched down over her, running his hands over her body and cupping her breasts. “Fuck,” he grunted, cock demanding so much blood that his brian was fogging over. “You ready for me?”

“Fucking do it!” she squealed, the words elongating into a loud, cooing moan as Isaac thrust inside of her. “You’re so BIG-”

“I’m so fucking big,” Isaac rumbled, pumping frantically as he found his sexual rhythm. His hands slammed palm first into the floor on either side of Veronica, and gravity pulled his short sleeves longer and longer, the paisley fabric twirling down around his arms until it met his brilliant white cuffs and sewed itself inside them, beginning the switch from a short-sleeve tee into a long sleeved dress shirt. The fabric was silky but thick, and Isaac enjoyed the feeling of it rubbing against his back, which suddenly felt confined by the tight seams.

She turned her head. “MORE!”

“Fuck-” he grunted, thrusting all the way in. “You like that. Yeah, you love my big cock.”

“I feel it in my stomach!” she shrieked with joy. “OooOOooOooooh…”

He rested his cheek against her bare back, scraping his stubble over the skin. “I want you to fuckin’ squirt for me, baby. I need you to cum like you’ve never cum before.”

“I’m gonna cum - I’m so close - I can feel it -” she groaned, voice rising in pitch. Isaac repositioned himself, sitting upright on his knees and thrusting directly forward so he could see the hooker writhing on his dick. She had such a hot, juicy pussy...Isaac gripped her waist and pulled her deeper, grunting as he gnashed his teeth together - he took a deep breath -

RRIPP, the front of his former t-shirt went, exposing his pale chest. Isaac shut his eyes and arched his back, his shirt tearing further open, now beginning to grow bright white buttons down the center. He shifted his hips back for a stronger thrust, and his jeans tore open across the seat, revealing a muscled butt that was getting thicker and rounder with each pump.

“Mmm...I’m gonna...I’m GONNA-”

“Mmmm yeah!” He felt her pussy tighten around his cock - he was giving her a fucking orgasm! Isaac beamed with pride, and his whole body shoved against the confines of his small clothes. His head snapped upward, and with a final thrust, a collar erupted out of the crewneck of his t-shirt. Razor sharp points stretched up to his cheekbones and then folded back down to touch his shoulders, the vibrant white fabric forming into a stiff, ultra-high spread collar that made Isaac’s head resemble a turtle’s poking out from its shell.

Veronica fell forward and rolled onto her back, her face as flushed and sweaty as her pussy. “That was...so...holy fuck…” she panted.

“That good, huh?”

“Did you not cum?!” She looked at his rock-hard cock.

“I held back. I wanted to go longer.”

“I can’t,” she said with a laugh. “You go back out there and find a girl to finish you off. I gotta go sleep for twelve hours.”

He helped her to her feet, slipping his fingers between her legs so he could lick them clean. “You taste good, baby,” he said, offering his thumb for her to suck on. He maneuvered her breasts back into her skimpy dress, while she pulled his pants up and buckled his belt. As Isaac tucked his shirt in, he looked at himself in the mirrors on the elevator walls. “Was I always wearing this stuff?”

His extravagant dress shirt was impossible to look away from. The fabric seemed to be getting shinier as he stared at it, a blend of silk and polyester that made the purple and pink paisley shimmer like jewels. In contrast to the loudly colorful body of the shirt were his cuffs, solid white and big as gauntlets, with garish cufflinks even sparklier than the shirt. A row of white buttons lead up to the crowning glory of the dress shirt: its massive collar that sat open around Isaac’s skinny neck, its three buttons all going unused. The points were sharp and starched.

Isaac ran his hands down over his shirt and looked at his dress trousers, solid grey sharkskin with a shimmer more subtle than his shirt. Beneath them were black dress shoes with pointed toes so shiny, Isaac could see his face looking back from them. “Wh-what happened to my clothes?”

“What’s wrong with them?” she asked, smoothing down her dress.

“They’re so...bright.” The aggressive nature of his shirt and cufflinks was bringing Isaac back to himself - he was realizing he’d just lost his virginity, sworn like a sailor, gotten drunk, gambled, smoked...in fact, a fresh cigar was sitting in his hand, an even bigger gauge than before, with an aroma so intense it covered the smell of sex that had permeated the elevator. Where did that come from…

The elevator reset and lowered back to the ground floor, opening with a pleasant ding. Isaac rolled his shoulders back and swaggered out. He didn’t like his flashy clothes, but at least they fit him. Finally his ankles and waist were covered again. And the tailoring of his shirt emphasized his shape - he’d always thought of himself as skinny up and down, but in this shirt and these pants, he looked well-built, with broad shoulders tapering down to a slim waist and firm, high ass. Uh, butt.

“Good night, stud. Good luck on your quest,” Veronica giggled, standing on her tiptoes to French kiss Isaac goodbye. He used the opportunity to stuff a wad of cash down her tits. As she walked away, he wondered how much he’d given her. Whatever it was, she deserved it after letting him fuck her pussy raw. It made Isaac sad to think he couldn’t brag about the sex to anyone he knew. All his friends and family would look down on him for banging a hooker in an elevator.

Holier-than-thou assholes, he thought.

Fuck, he was so horny. He felt guilty for thinking that way - he felt guilty for the new foul mouth of his internal voice, even - but the guilt wasn’t making his boner shrink. His chic trousers looked like they were smuggling a soda bottle. He needed to get it in. He needed to get off.

“Gotta fuck,” he grunted under his breath, followed by a sensual drag off his huge cigar. “Need to fuck…”

His arousal made him walk differently: hips tilted forward, leading with his bulge. He walked cock-first back onto the casino floor, feeling completely different than the last time. He’d felt like the prey then. Now he was the predator.

He’d loved fondling Veronica’s giant tits, so he started his search looking at chest level. His first pass produced nothing to his liking, so he bellied up to the bar and ordered a dirty martini.

“Can I see some ID?”

Isaac produced his driver’s license with a sneer.

“Sorry, sir,” the bartender apologized when he looked at it.

“That’s what I thought.” Isaac gave the guy twenty bucks anyway. He leaned against the bar, took a drink, and then noticed a great pair of jugs on the other side of the circular bar. They were big and tan and spilling out of a white button-down shirt, and as Isaac moved his eyes up the body they belonged to, he saw a muscular neck, a strong jaw, and smoothly gelled blond hair…

A man. Isaac stared at the guy through the white cloud curling off the tip of his cigar. The man was young - probably mid-twenties - and a bit on the short side, but completely stacked with muscle. He was wearing the tightest dress shirt Isaac had ever seen, showing off the pillows of muscle on his chest. Isaac enjoyed the sight of football-sized biceps straining at the guy’s sleeves.

He couldn’t believe he was checking out a guy. At least when he’d had premarital sex, it’d been with a woman. Now he was being tempted by the mere sight of a bodybuilder, and that was a twofer: out of wedlock and homosexual. But the more daring part of Isaac, the part that was being so loud tonight, wanted to know what it would be like. What would it be like to hold those big muscles, to feel them flex and ripple, and to feel a muscle ass squeezing his giant cock. Fuck, it’d be so sexy. The guy was probably straight - like Isaac thought he himself was - but as Isaac walked closer, he saw how carefully styled the bodybuilder’s hair was, and how smooth and tan his skin looked, and he wondered if he could at least convince the man to kiss him a little.

Isaac leaned up against the bar next to the guy, their six-inch height difference instantly filling him with confidence. As he set his drink down, his cufflinks clinked against the bartop and attracted the stud’s attention.

“How’s it going?” the guy asked. His teeth were really white.

“Good,” Isaac smiled, gazing down at the young stud. Up close, he noticed something familiar about the man’s face. “I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere.”

“Probably there,” the guy said, pointing to a big advertisement hanging near the casino entrance. It was a picture of him shirtless, wearing a cowboy hat and jeans, with a sprig of wheat in his mouth as his eye-fucked the camera.

“‘Stud Farm’?” Isaac read aloud from the ad. “You’re a stripper.”

“Yes sir.”

“That’s fucking hot, to be honest,” Isaac said.

“Thanks, bro. I bodybuild too.”

“I can tell. Nothing fat on you except for these.” Isaac rubbed his thumb across the man’s left nipple, which was protruding through his white shirt and as big as the head of a baby bottle.

“You like those?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I like a man who knows what he likes.”

Isaac’s mouth went dry. Fuck. “I’m Isaac.”

“I’m Brett.”

“You’re fucking sexy, Brett.”

“Thanks. So’re you.” Brett reached up and opened the next button on Isaac’s shirt. “I want to see more of you.” He slid his hand upward to stroke Isaac’s five o’clock shadow.

Isaac smirked down at him, but Brett’s hand was warm - really warm - for a moment, Isaac felt like his jaw was made of putty, and then suddenly it grew...and grew… Isaac shut his eyes and clenched his teeth, the angles of his jaw growing to immensity. “I like when you do that,” was all he said about his new superhero jaw being fondled.

“I have a thing for jawlines. Yours might be the best I’ve ever seen. It’s like...” Brett tapped his finger against the jaw’s angle. “It’s like a shovel. Does that make sense? I’m not good with words.”

“Good thing you’re cute.” Isaac made a show of thrusting his huge jaw forward in tandem with his hips. He squeezed Brett’s thick bicep. “I love your muscles.”

Brett took Isaac’s cigar from his hand and smoked it. “This is a strong one, shit,” he coughed. “Must be made for a strong man.”

“It is,” Isaac smirked, hoping his muscles were showing through his shirt like Brett’s did. “I wanna show you how strong I am. Come up to my room.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Isaac moaned at the sound of the word. People were doing what he said now. He felt so...influential. Powerful. It was flooding him, and it felt so good. He wanted it to pump his muscles and radiate through the room. He wanted everyone to admire him like Brett and Veronica did.

That was why, as Isaac pulled Brett toward the elevator, his back was suddenly a bit too wide for his shirt. The white buttons were struggling to hold over his chest. His ass filled the seat of his pants to bursting. “We’re gonna have fun tonight,” he rumbled, staring down Brett’s half open shirt at the slabs of muscle on his chest. “Something’s happening to me...making me...lose control of myself.”

“I think that’s just called ‘Vegas.’”

“I’m bad here. Guess that’s why they call it Sin City. My mom and dad tried to warn me and I didn’t listen.” Isaac smirked. “I’m glad I didn’t listen.”

“Your mom and dad?” Brett asked a little incredulously, as the elevator doors opened and Isaac all but shoved him on.

“Heh, speaking of my parents,” Isaac said, looking at the elevator they were now on, “they’d be so mad at me if they knew I creampied this hot slut right on the floor here.”

“Shit,” Brett mumbled, massaging his bulge, “you’re not scared of getting girls pregnant?”

“No worries there. I’ve had a vasectomy.” Isaac had never heard the word he’d just used, but he did have a vague recollection of going to a doctor’s office, being concerned he wouldn’t cum anymore, and then quickly learning he needn’t have worried. “Learned my lesson a while ago.”

“Yeah? You got a girl pregnant?”

Isaac chuckled. His brow bone jutted further forward, broadening his forehead, while his cheekbones flared out prominently. He looked at himself in the elevator mirrors, a handsome and masculine face staring back at him from above that big shirt collar and broad shoulders. He couldn’t help but think he looked different - why was his face so unfamiliar? That broad, stubbly jaw...those deeply set eyes, burning with manly intensity...he didn’t even look that young anymore. Wasn’t he young? But he had lines on his forehead and no fat in his face, enhancing his impressive bone structure while making him look rugged and weathered. This was a man who knew himself and what he wanted. No wonder Brett called him Daddy.

Daddy…fuck yeah.

“I got five girls pregnant,” Isaac smiled, still staring at his reflection. Shit, he was fucking hot. Like a goddamn Marlboro Man. He looked like he sweated testosterone.

“You’ve got five kids?! Jesus, why is that so hot to me,” Brett groaned, his back arching as he looked at Isaac’s incredible handsomeness.

“Six kids,” Isaac grinned, his bass the perfect addition to his manly visage. “Got a set of twins in there. That’s why I had to get snipped. You know how much fucking child support I pay? Thank god my two oldest boys are taking care of themselves now.” Isaac pushed his thick hair back from his forehead. Was it longer? Well, longer on top, at least. The sides were short, buzzed down, while the top was long and lush so he could slick it back. If he was still gonna have hair at his age, best believe he’d make sure everyone noticed it.

“You know what’s funny?” Brett moaned, so aroused he was sweating. “You look like my workout partner-”

“Eddie?”

“Whoa, yeah.”

“That’s my oldest.”

“Wow! Really?! That’s crazy. Fuck, no wonder he’s so hot.”

“Of course he is, he came from me.” A cocky laugh emanated from Isaac right as a button burst off his shirt. His flat chest suddenly popped out into a firm ledge, as a new layer of muscle rippled across his shoulders and rounded out his traps and delts. But underneath the arrogant display, he was wondering how he was going to break it to his parents tomorrow that he couldn’t leave Vegas because of the custody arrangements - let alone that he had six children he hadn’t told them about.

The elevator chimed and opened onto a hallway with only one room: a towering pair of double doors depicting a gilded dragon.

“I think we’re on the wrong floor,” Isaac said hesitantly, but he scanned his card against the lock anyway. The light went green, and the door clicked open.

They stepped in together, but Isaac froze as soon as he was through the door. He saw a stranger in the hall - almost apologized to him, in fact - before he realized it was a mirror, and the man in the reflection was him. He was so tall and broad, so handsome, so...mature. The man in the reflection was not a young man. He had visible mileage on him. “Brett?” Isaac called out, his deep voice laced with uncertainty.

“Yeah?” Brett appeared back in the hallway.

“How old are you?”

“25, why?”

“I think I’m older than that.”

“I assumed, considering I’m friends with your son, who is also 25,” Brett smirked. He walked forward and put his palms on Isaac’s chest, which lurched forward at the touch, pecs burgeoning broader and thicker. “Age doesn’t matter when you’re this fucking hot, Isaac. Or should I call you Mr. Fontaine, to be respectful?”

“Mr. Fontaine?”

“Is that not your last name? I just assumed because it’s Eddie’s…”

It didn’t feel right to Isaac, but he couldn’t think of anything else. “No, it’s Isaac Fontaine, right,” he muttered, realizing he was killing the mood. “Let me get you a drink.”

He walked down the hall and into the room, expecting to see a standard king bed and minibar. But his dress shoes clacked against marble instead, and he slowly raised his head to see a two-story foyer, plush white couches, giant televisions, an indoor hot tub, a massive bed…

“I can’t believe you live here,” Brett whistled.

“I...live here,” Isaac repeated as he surveyed the penthouse. It was a level of opulence he didn’t know existed in the world. Why would he live here? Didn’t he live...somewhere else? Yeah, he had a bigass house a few miles west of the Strip, in a double-gated community. But he also owned this penthouse. It was good for entertaining on these kinds of late nights. “Does it turn you on?”

“Everything about you turns me on.”

“Good boy. Take your clothes off.” Isaac walked over to the large marble bar set into the wall, stocked with what he imagined was every liquor in the world. He reached for a bottle of champagne, and his shirt ripped open across the back. His lats spread wide and thick as he got out two glasses, then as he struggled with the cork of the champagne, his biceps ballooned from the strain. Twenty inches...twenty-one...twenty-two...his sleeves shredded and the rest of the buttons burst off his shirt, pulled too taut by his expanding chest and broadening frame. His abs hardened into armor that gave him a thicker, stronger core to support all the mass he was gaining up top.

“Big fuckin’ tits,” he grunted between pours of champagne, as his pecs continued to swell, showing no signs of stopping as they grew as big as Veronica the hooker’s and past that, more projected, wider, rounder, a dusting of salt-and-pepper bristles popping out across their breadth. “Giant fuckin’ muscle tits.” He tweaked his nipples, noticing how big they were now, spread wide across the base of his giant jugs. Fuck, that was hot. The remains of his shirt fell away as he turned around with the two glasses of champagne, facing Brett, who was now stark naked.

“You got an amazing body, son,” Isaac rumbled, stepping forward as his thighs grew, his calves bulged, a pair of bodybuilder’s legs stretching through his trousers and tearing them apart. He handed the champagne flute to Brett, clinked the rims together, and as they tipped them back to drink, his underwear exploded too, a big muscle ass and magnificent cock tumbling free to leave two naked men in the middle of the penthouse.

Isaac put his hand on Brett’s neck and pulled him in, kissing him, loving how Brett had to stretch his neck to clear Isaac’s pecs. Their hard cocks knocked together as they broke the kiss and rested their heads against each other, breathing, looking down at their huge chests. They drank more champagne, kissed more aggressively, mouths mauling each other now as they moved toward the bedroom.

“Your balls are so big,” Brett said as he sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at the trophy between Isaac’s legs.

“Big Daddy balls,” Isaac said proudly. “Eddie came from those.”

“Fuck…”

“Wanna know what kind of man you’re dealing with?” Isaac said, bending down to kiss Brett some more. “Eddie lived with his mom until he was 15. But they weren’t getting along as well then, and he asked to move in with me. A boy that age needs his pop, you know? He didn’t know how to throw a football or lift a weight. His mom was raising him vegetarian. Fucking stupid, if you ask me. I mean, I got nothing against vegetarians, but a Fontaine boy...we’re carnivores. So I started feeding him Porterhouse steaks and taking him to the gym. Got his ass right into shape in school and at home. He learned to not talk back real quick. ‘Yes sir’ and ‘no sir’. But man, did that boy grow.”

Isaac took a break to kiss Brett and drink more champagne. “What...what happened to him?” Brett asked.

“You know him, you know what kind of man he is,” Isaac smiled. “I did that. I took a little boy and turned him into a man. He grew three inches and gained forty pounds in a year. By the end of high school, he was buff; by the end of college, he was a bodybuilder. Grew a beard. Heck, his voice even got deeper. I’m so proud of that boy. I taught him how to be a man and he taught me how to be a father. Corny but true.”

“Isn’t he...Edward Junior? How’s that work if your name is Isaac?”

“His name’s not Edward, it’s Edwin. My dad was Edwin Senior, I’m Edwin Junior, he’s Edwin III.”

“But you go by Isaac?”

“I go by Win. My dad was Edwin, I’m Win, my son’s Eddie.” The former Isaac pushed Brett back on the bed and straddled him. “I remember the night we conceived him. I fucked his mom like I’d never fucked anyone before. So deep and so hard. And now I’m gonna fuck you like that.”

“Fuck-” Brett grunted, staring up in wonder at the god looming over him. “Fuck me, Daddy - fuck…”

Win grabbed Brett’s legs and swung him around onto all fours. Brett moaned with excitement, his back breaking out in a sweat. “This isn’t your first time,” Win chuckled, looking at Brett’s hole. It didn’t dawn on him that it was his first experience with a man - how could it, when he had muscle memory of what to do. As his cock slid inside Brett’s muscled ass, it felt right. And the sound Brett made - the indescribable mix of pain and pleasure - was music to Win’s ears.

Win pushed his hips forward and let his head fall back to look up into a mirror on the ceiling. His muscles rippled and tensed, and he smiled at himself, this big strapping man with a hot young stud under him, begging for his cock...it almost looked like the bed was shrinking, but it was just Win getting bigger with each thrust, more muscle working its way onto his chest, his shoulders...he thrust, and grew, and thrust, and grew…

Bigger…

Win was all the way in now, his balls slapping against Brett’s thighs as his growth picked up speed. His muscles pushed up against each other as they expanded, as Win obtained a dense musculature seen only on pro bodybuilders. No longer would there be a gap between his thighs, or room for his arms to swing freely. He was to be impractically muscular. With the changes happening to his body, his environment needed to adapt too. The doors in his penthouse widened. Inside his closets, his dozens of dress shirts and suits - his daily uniform - grew off the charts in size, like tents on the hangers until they would wrap around his mass and show off just how goddamn huge he was. Even his accessories had to grow, as Win’s hands thickened and his head got bigger.

Win doubled his speed as he admired his huge arms. He imagined them straining at his dress shirt’s sleeves when he shook someone’s hand. He imagined his shirt buttons popping off during a board meeting - it had happened before, and it got him hard as a rock. Bigass bodybuilder who barely fit in his clothes. A muscle beast prowling the Las Vegas Strip. It took him every one of his 48 years to get this big - something inside Win was whispering that he was supposed to be a lot younger than that, but he didn’t want to be. He didn’t want to be a single pound lighter, either. He loved when young men’s jaws dropped as he walked into the gym, or when a business partner gasped at the sight of his half-open dress shirts showing off his giant muscle tits. He wanted everyone to notice him and respect him. He wanted everyone to know who he was. His parents didn’t like this town, which was why he needed to fucking run it…needed to be everything they didn’t want him to be...

The room brightened as the new sign beneath it lit up the entire side of the building: FONTAINE. The word appeared on everything in the hotel: coasters, cocktail napkins, room keys, menus. It was a word synonymous with many things in Las Vegas - luxury, sex, but most of all, power. And at the top of the Fontaine, in the middle of the glittering penthouse, was the man who embodied that power, a 48-year-old musclebound Goliath fucking a young hunk senseless. Win felt an intoxicating rush, and the next thing he knew he was cumming harder than he’d ever cum in his life, dousing Brett with his manliness. His dick popped free and he rolled onto his back as Brett curled up next to him, smelling of sweat and cum. Win grunted a “nice job, kid” and kissed the younger man before they dozed off intertwined.

--------

The sun cut through the window coverings that were timed to automatically turn transparent at sunrise, and Win’s eyes fluttered open. Brett was nestled under his arm, sleeping on his chest. It was a bit coupley for Win’s taste, but the kid looked so cute and peaceful like that, so Win let him rest and admired the beauty of his youth. Not that Win was doing badly himself, he thought, as he looked down toward his chiseled 8-pack, which was blocked from view by the two throw pillows he called pecs.

“Morning, Daddy,” Brett mumbled groggily, after a few minutes. He moved his head to Win’s shoulder, and Win responded by kissing the younger man and playing with his hard penis.

“I’d fuck you, but I have a meeting soon,” Win said, his bass voice thick with the fog of morning. “One of my assistants is texting me frantically asking where I am.”

“I can go,” Brett said as he sat up. “But just promise you’ll fuck me again sometime.”

“Of course. I love this fuckin’ body.” Win buried his face in Brett’s chest. “You’re welcome anytime,” he said between kisses.

They got up and showered quickly, and Win cut his morning cigar before he got dressed. He had Brett select his clothes: a pair of maroon trousers, and a glossy white shirt with big, stiff French cuffs. Brett helped him into them, buttoning up the shirt too far before Win corrected him. “Leave a few more open. I wanna look like I’m on businessman Baywatch.” And he did, with two mountainous tits heaving out through the shiny white fabric, nipples only just covered up. He gifted Brett a cavalcade of smoky kisses and then left the young muscle slut in his penthouse.

Win stepped onto the elevator and checked himself out in the mirror, making sure his hair was properly smooth and his gold crown cufflinks were facing the right direction. His stubble was about a day away from becoming a beard, so he texted his assistant to set up a time for the barber to come to his penthouse. There was nothing like a straight razor shave.

The elevator stopped, and Win rolled his eyes before the doors opened. On stepped a mousy couple, beige in every capacity, from their clothes to their shoes to their demeanor. They looked at Win in visible wonder and, if he was reading it correctly, judgment, which he liked.

“Win Fontaine,” he rumbled, extending his hand to the man next to him, who didn’t even come up to his shoulder.

“Jerry McDaniel,” the man said in a quiet voice.

“Fontaine as in...this hotel?” the woman asked.

“Yes, I own it,” Win smiled, his porcelain veneers as shiny and white as his shirt. He casually flexed his arms, which were as big around as Jerry McDaniel’s head. “Did you have a nice stay?”

“It was very nice, yes.”

“I don’t think Vegas is for us,” the woman added, taking a look at the cigar smoldering in Win’s big hand. “We’re Christians.”

“Interesting you say that,” Win said. “I feel closer to God here than I do anywhere else.”

The McDaniels didn’t have an answer to that, and stepped off the elevator as soon as it reached the lobby. Win hung back for a second and checked himself in the mirror again, pulling the points of his collar a bit wider. “Fuckin’ repressed Puritans,” he tutted.

Thank God he’d never been like that.

This sequence is available in HQ on my Patreon.

The only way I am able to write stories of this length and detail, and provide you all with illustrations that supports other muscle creators, is because of my generous patrons and supporters. Support me on Patreon or Ko-fi to enable me to write more.

#muscle growth tf #mustache #age progression #reality change #transformation #mental change #bodybuilder #dress shirt #dad

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chadgolden · 3 months ago

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Name Recognition

Bruce Kallenbergher knew that he had an unusual name. He’d once come home from grade school and asked his parents, between frustrated gulps of Capri-Sun, why on earth they had named him Bruce. There were five Jacobs in his class alone. The school was crawling with Matts, Aidans, Ethans. But there were no other Bruces.

“It’s a family name on both sides,” his parents had explained. His maternal great-uncle was named Bruce, and it was his paternal grandfather’s middle name. Bruce’s parents told him he’d appreciate it when elementary school was over with and being unique was seen as a positive thing. Not to mention, it was short, which made up for the mouthful of a surname. “Kallenbergher” had barely fit on the back of Bruce’s youth soccer jersey.

Bruce hadn’t complained about his name again to his parents, though he did bring it up several years later with indignation attached: the first day of freshman year had brought each student an iPad and email address. When Bruce had tried to register with just his first name, bruce@, he couldn’t believe it was taken. For a moment, he wondered if there’d been a transfer, perhaps a Bruce from another district. But then he’d looked it up in the directory and realized it belonged to that weirdo Ryan from art class. As luck would have it, Ryan’s last name was Bruce.

There weren’t many Kallenberghers out in the world either. Bruce had googled it once and found it was one of the most rare surnames in the US. He didn’t mind that, though he’d wished it didn’t have the “bergher” part, since the pronunciation was what everyone latched onto when they were looking for a pun. He’d once arrived at his locker to find it covered with pictures of burgers with kale on them.

None of this was on Bruce’s mind as he biked home from driver’s ed. He was thinking about how lucky he’d been to pass the rural driving quiz. (His main takeaway from that was that two-lane highways were weird and scary and he never wanted to drive on them.) He was thinking about how he’d sat next to Sami Hirsch and hadn’t said a single word to her even though she’d smiled at him. He was thinking about how he was getting pretty hungry and hoped his dad hadn’t taken last night’s leftovers to work.

All these thoughts flew out of Bruce’s head as he turned down Heather Lane and his eyes, scanning the street to make sure no cars were coming, landed on a real estate sign. It was mounted on a white post in front of a handsome two-story home with white shutters and a large front porch. The sign was black with white lettering and gold accents, which allowed the red FOR SALE portion hanging off the bottom to really stand out.

But Bruce didn’t care about any of that. He ground his bike to a halt to stare at what was written on the sign. TF HOMES, it said across the top in elegant serif font, the tops of the T and the F interconnecting. Below that, in a font two points smaller: “BRUCE KALLENBERGHER,” and two phone numbers.

“No way,” he said under his breath. The first thing he did was take a picture with his phone. The second was think. He’d searched his name before, and all of the hits were him - honor rolls published in the newspaper, mostly. He’d gotten the Gmail address, as well as any other username that he tried in relation to his name. If there was another Bruce Kallenbergher out there, wouldn’t they have crossed paths digitally at some point? And even if this Bruce Kallenbergher had no digital footprint - unrealistic, but possible - what were the odds that he would be living in the same town as the only other person with his name?

Bruce was considering all of this when he noticed the other sign two feet away: OPEN HOUSE TODAY, 12-4. Bruce didn’t see any activity inside the home, though there was a gleaming silver sports car parked across the street. Maybe that belonged to someone inside - maybe even his mysterious namesake.

Bruce wasn’t terribly outgoing, but even he couldn’t pass up this opportunity, despite its potential for being an awkward encounter. He didn’t know what he’d say to the other Bruce Kallenbergher when they met. Maybe he wouldn’t say anything. He mostly wanted to see what the other Bruce was like, anyway. Was he cool? Successful? How old was he?

All these thoughts were pinging around Bruce’s head as he walked across the front porch, but what he didn’t have an opportunity to see was something that would’ve sent him running before he even set foot in the house. After he walked past the for sale sign, the empty space next to the name and phone numbers darkened. The outline of a square appeared first, then a vague impression of a photo. The details of the portrait rapidly filled in - hair, eyes, a favorite dark blue shirt - so that by the time Bruce had clicked open the door and walked into the house, there was a headshot on the sign. Bruce’s headshot. He’d taken it in photography class and used it in all his social media profiles.

Keep reading

#reality change #age progression #mental change #skater #dad #suit #transformation #picture #image story #male transformation

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chadgolden · 3 months ago

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The Marine Corps Builds Men

Story by Aardvark: Twitter | Patreon | Ko-fi | Pay-Pal Illustration by Baraland: Twitter

Originally posted on Patreon in February 2022. Join now to get stories when they first go up, along with exclusive artwork and a Discord!

Devin wasn’t quite sure what the building was called. He knew it had something to do with the military. It was in the middle of town, a one-story red brick building with an acre of grass connected to it, surrounded by a chain link fence topped with barbed wire. Welcoming it was not, but Devin was fascinated by it every time he walked past on his way home. It wasn’t that big, so it couldn’t be more than just some offices with an area for occasional training. But he never saw any training going on. He never saw anything going on. There was sometimes a car or two parked in the lot, but for all Devin could tell, that could be spillover from the nearby strip mall.

It wasn’t that Devin was fascinated by the military. In fact, he wasn’t at all. It all seemed too intense for his liking. Teachers usually described him as ‘sweet,’ which he got teased for, but it was just how he was. He liked giving high fives and meeting new people, and didn’t care much for physical exertion, even though he was skinny. It was the building that interested him. Devin imagined it as abandoned, full of old artifacts like in the Captain America movie. A place he could sneak inside to explore and maybe film one of those YouTube videos. He’d just started his own channel and didn’t know what to really do with it, but that sounded like a fun project.

Every day, he walked by, inching a bit closer than the day before. It felt like the building was calling to him, like he was on some collision course with fate to learn all about the inside of the place. It was probably boring, he told himself. But he was just so curious. He’d googled it and not even the local newspaper had articles about it.

And then, one day, to Devin’s surprise, there was an actual person standing outside the building. He touched the bill of his baseball cap and pulled it down to hide his face. It was the first time he’d seen any sign of life. The guy was walking into the building when Devin made eye contact with him.

“Hi,” Devin said, before realizing he was planning on talking. He just blurted it right out. Pushing his cap back up he smiled.

“Well well,” the man said. “I’ve seen you wandering by just about everyday. You thinking about joining the military when you’re older?”

Devin was surprised he’d been noticed. So much for sneaking in. He laughed. “Me? Nooo, no. My mom and dad would kill me if I told them I was doing that.”

“Nothing wrong with wanting to serve your country,” the man said gravely.

Devin felt like he shrunk into himself. He wasn’t trying to make the guy mad. He just knew his parents had a different vision for his future than the army. “I didn’t mean any offense.”

“Maybe you have to get acquainted with the service, see that it’s not so scary. I have some time today if you want a tour?”

Devin couldn’t believe his luck. After all his idle curiosity, the universe was giving him a present. He nodded excitedly. The man placed an arm around Devin’s back and guided the hesitant teen inside. Devin removed his baseball cap and tucked it under his arm. He tried to quickly straighten out his medium length hair to make it look more presentable. Walking into the first room in the building was rather lackluster. There was a young man no older than 24 sitting at a desk with a computer. He was too focused on his work to notice Devin or the man walk in, or so Devin thought, until he heard a chime he recognized from one of his favorite mobile games, Cosmic Empire.

That first impression really put him at ease. This place wasn't empty because of ghosts, just negligence, Devin realized. No wonder they didn’t have people clamoring to join the division. But he kept his mouth shut in case he came off as rude.

“Good day, sir,” he said timidly, trying to add some respect to it. Unfortunately, it went unheard by the young man.

The man beside Devin coughed. “Private,” he whispered and the young man looked up.

“Good afternoon Corporal! I didn’t notice you leave.”

“Yeah, yeah sit down. Just don’t let the sergeant catch you slacking off, alright?”

The young man nodded then looked at Devin. “You here to sign up?”

“Oh no. I’m not-” Devin didn’t want to be insulting again, so he backpedaled. “Not today. The corporate was just giving me a tour of the place.”

“The corporal.”

“Corporal!” Devin corrected himself, cheeks reddening.

“Nice,” the private smiled. “I can answer any questions you might have at the end, if you want to talk to someone closer to your…” He trailed off. “Sorry sir,” he said to the Corporal, who chuckled.

“No offense taken. You’re right, you might have a valuable perspective as a younger guy. Take his picture, would you?”

The corporal stood aside and Devin smiled for the private as he snapped a quick picture. Probably for security, he reasoned.

The corporal nodded to the private. “At ease.”

The private sank into his chair with a relieved sigh and the man led Devin onward. “I’m Corporal Armstrong, by the way,” he said.

“Devin Teller.” The man’s handshake was crushing. Devin winced. “I thought everything would be scary in here, but that guy back there seems normal.”

“Hutton? Nice kid. Needs a little more discipline, I’d say, but he’s on the right track. Why’d you think this place was scary?”

“Because it’s mysterious,” Devin said. “I’ve lived in this town my whole life and nothing has ever gone on here. I always thought I’d see people twirling guns and stuff like that.”

Corporal Armstrong laughed. “Funny! Nah, this is just a training center. This isn’t where Basic Training happens. That’s only a handful of places, like Fort Sill in Oklahoma.” Armstrong took Devin down a hall and let him poke his head in a few rooms. None of them were interesting. There were some classrooms, some cubicles, and a bunch of metal cages labeled ‘Unit Storage.’ The library was a little more fun to look at, but it wasn’t like Devin was going to sit down and read something. In fact, the most interesting thing was the halls, which were at least colors other than white and had some framed photos and other things to look at.

Devin handed his phone to Corporal Armstrong. “Could you take a picture of me in front of this thing?” It was the United States Marines Corp seal sculpted from bronze and mounted on the wall. Devin stood in front of it with two thumbs up. He turned his baseball cap around so the bill didn’t obscure the big smile on his face. “Thanks!” he said, checking the picture and approving of it.

“I’d like to hear more about you, Devin, but I think others would too and I don’t want to make you repeat yourself,” Corporal Armstrong smiled as he opened a door and ushered Devin inside. “How about you tell these gentlemen too?”

The door clicked shut, and suddenly Devin felt nervous again. He placed his cap back on, folded his hands over each other, and looked at the floor to avoid making eye contact with the two uniformed men he was now in the room with. They both sat on the same side of a table, looking at him - like it was an interview. One was pretty old, the other closer to Devin’s dad’s age. Corporal Armstrong stood by the door.

“Hey there, young fella!” the young man in the middle smiled. “You look like you’re about to throw up!”

Devin shook his head, the long hair sticking out of his baseball cap rustling. “Oh, I just - didn’t realize I’d have to like...” He didn’t know what to say. What was expected of him here? He was just walking around, after all.

“Don’t be so nervous son, we’re not here to judge you. We just want to know more about you.” The man’s voice was powerful and booming but also carried a hidden warmth that set Devin at ease. “To prove we’re all friends here, how about you call me Private Ryan.”

“Ridiculous!” An authoritative voice broke through. Devin jumped back in shock. “Lowering your rank to this recruit is absurd.”

“I’m not a recruit,” Devin said, but the man's gaze cut off anything else he would have added. Corporal Armstrong made no attempts to correct the mistake either. The second man was large like a bodybuilder, beautifully sculpted, but close in age to Devin’s grandparents.

“I was just trying to show some goodwill. I think the boy would have gotten a bit overwhelmed if we shared our actual ranks,” Not-Private Ryan stated.

“Please.” The older man grumbled. “Look at this kid, practically in diapers. He wouldn’t know the importance of rank or anything about the Marines.” As if to prove a point the man turned to Devin, “Stand at attention!”

“Uh?” Devin was confused with the order, but he watched enough movies to understand he was supposed to be standing upright with his chin up and chest out.

“See? He knows some things,” Ryan spoke, a chuckle on his lips.

“A wise guy eh? Let’s see your salute,” the older gentleman barked.

Devin imitated all the salutes he’d seen in his life.

“Not as good,” the requester said.

Devin didn't like hearing that. He had just been thrown into a room, and now just mocked. Perhaps he could get the older gentleman to calm down if he showed some interest.

“Could you show me how to do a proper one?”

“Why should I?”

“Please sir.”

The older man grumbled, “That’s Lieutenant Higgins to you, kid.” The large man stood up adjusting his belt before saluting. “Do you see this? A perfect salute is flawless and second nature.”

Devin tried to replicate it, but the withering gazes from the table showed he was not doing well.

“No, no. You’re making a hand like a doll, see that? Your fingers need to be straight. Lock your thumb. Try again.”

Devin tried. He snapped his hand up so quickly he smacked himself in the head with it.

“Easy kid. Right hand in line with your brow, forearm at a 45 degree angle. No bend in the wrist or fingers. Everything straight from your elbow to your fingertip. Try again.”

Devin lowered his salute just to do it again. He kept the speed of the previous attempt but this time really focused on keeping his entire arm locked at a 45 degree angle, like it was a hinge.

“Much better,” Ryan said. “Now, what you’re supposed to do is have your fingers touch the brim of your hat, not your forehead.”

“Like this?” Devin moved his fingers out from under the bill of his baseball cap, resting the tip of his middle finger against the front of it.

“Yes, but you need to straighten up again,” Higgins said, displeased. Devin felt Armstrong’s hands on his shoulders, and then the Corporal pulled them back. Devin’s spine cracked loudly, like he was at the chiropractor, and all the men in the room chuckled and whistled. “He’s never gonna slouch again after that,” Higgins laughed.

Devin was standing impractically straight. It felt unnatural and uncomfortable, like he had a steel rod in his back instead of a spine.

“Salute, kid,” Higgins said.

Devin did so without thinking. His fingers tapped against the bill of his baseball cap. He stood stiff and motionless, arm bent perfectly.

“Well done. Again.”

Devin lowered his arm and repeated the gesture. The bill of his baseball cap suddenly widened out an inch on either side.

“We’re going to do this ten times. Again.”

Devin obeyed, his hat’s bill continuing to broaden, encircling more of the crown.

“Again.”

The bill now stretched halfway around Devin’s hat, a strange look made stranger by the fact that the curved bill was flattening. Another salute transformed the logo on the front of his hat from white thread to metal.

“Again. Again. Again.”

Devin kept saluting, the gesture now perfect as could be, as the two sides of his bill met at the back of his head and connected to form a flat brim as stiff as his spine. Each tap of his fingers against the brim changed it further: the bright colors turned drab, the logo shrank and morphed.

“Again.”

Devin was getting frustrated and bored, but didn’t show it. His impeccable salute was putting the finishing touches on his new Stetson: the crown stretched up taller above his head as the hat turned olive green.

“Well done, young man. At ease.”

Devin slouched - or thought he did, though his new spine was incapable of slouching - and took his hat off. It took work, because there was a weird strap on the back holding it against his head, but he finally removed it and noticed how different it was. This wasn’t his hat; it looked more like Smokey the Bear's. The crown was tall and had four symmetrical indentations like someone was pinching it at the top, and the brim was broad, stiff, and flat. There was a ribbon around the base of it.

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Devin. Devin Teller.”

“Tell us about yourself, Devin. What makes you want to be a Marine?”

“I don’t want to be a Marine, sir, I think there’s been some mistake. I just came in for a tour,” Devin admitted. When none of the men immediately interjected, he plowed on, hoping to smooth the awkwardness over. “But I really admire military guys, I think they’re great! And super necessary. Just not my thing. I’m not a fighter, my dad always says. Um, I dunno...I go to school, I like going to movies with my friends. I really like action movies. I watch a lot of soccer and baseball. I give everyone high fives in the halls at school, it’s kinda my thing, everyone knows I do it.” Devin rattled on and on about his hobbies and interests, and the men in the room listened attentively. No one acknowledged what appeared to be some wild static electricity where Devin was standing, or whatever was making his long hair stand on end. Strand after strand rose up toward the ceiling, floating above Devin’s head until every hair was stretched straight out from its root. He looked like a dandelion. “Oh, and I really like skateboarding!” Devin said. “Can’t believe I left that out. That’s one of my favorite things to do. I’ve gotten pretty good at it.”

“Is that why you keep your hair so long?”

“Yeah, that and I just hate going to the barber,” Devin smiled, as his hovering hair suddenly shrank by an inch, taking up less space in the air around him. “I would cry when I went there as a baby so my parents just didn’t make me. I go a couple times a year just to get it trimmed up.” Another inch of Devin’s hair vanished. “It saves us a lot of money too, which is nice. And it looks cool when I do tricks, especially when I slow down the video. Here, I’ll show you!” Devin’s hair shortened by another two inches as he rummaged in his pocket for his phone and pulled up TikTok. By the time he approached the table and handed over his phone to proudly show off the videos of him in his cul-de-sac jumping around on his skateboard, six inches of his once shoulder-length hair was gone. “Oh, watch that one!” he said, reaching over to Ryan’s hand and flipping to the next video. “That one got 100,000 views for some reason.”

The transformation of Devin’s hairstyle was speeding up the more he showed off his skateboarding tricks to the men. Instead of lurching down an inch at a time, now the strands were steadily shortening, sinking inward. Four inches remained...then three… “And you think this is the best use of your time?” Higgins asked.

“It’s fun!” Devin said defensively, now sporting a long crewcut. “I’m not gonna be a kid forever, might as well have fun while I am one, y’know?” He took his phone back from Ryan, wondering if he should’ve bothered showing them his social media. But if they wanted to know about him, that was a big part. Devin locked his phone, missing the reflection of his head on the black screen before he slid it into his pocket. He would’ve seen the sides of his hair vanishing into near nothingness, fading to pure skin shaved with a straight razor. On top, the hair continued to stand on end, but shortened down to half-an-inch, brushed straight upward. With one final lop, the new hairstyle revealed its shape: a perfect flat top composed of 90 degree angles, tapering down into a skin fade. It made the top of Devin’s head look like a box and gave him a sharp, precise appearance.

“Maybe you’re too concerned with fun,” Higgins needled. “What about someday if your country needs you? If you have to provide for your family? Is fun gonna put food on the table? Is fun gonna keep you safe?”

“Um...I, well...maybe, if I monetize my channel!”

Ryan started laughing, and Higgins cracked a smile. “Okay, that was funny, kid,” Higgins admitted. “What happens if you go through a growth spurt?”

“What do you mean?” Devin asked.

“Like, if you got real tall. Aren’t skateboarders usually pretty short?”

“I dunno, I guess - ‘cause when you f-a-a-aalll…” Devin’s neck suddenly stretched like a brontosaurus, pulling his shoulders and torso up longer. “Sorry…when you fall, you have less distance to cover. If I was tall, I’d just…I dunno-o–o-o-...” His legs pulled upward, jeans riding high. “I probably wouldn’t have gotten into skateboarding if I was a tall guy, it’d be a lot harder.”

“How tall are you?”

Devin was sprouting like a weed right before the men’s eyes. “Like five-six or so.”

“I don’t think so. You look taller than that.”

“Like maybe six feet?” Devin said hopefully, stretching further toward the ceiling.

“Taller than that.”

“Like six-foot-four, maybe? That’d be cool, if I were that tall,” Devin grinned, now towering in the middle of the room, his clothes hopelessly small on his lanky frame. “I can’t even imagine. It’d be crazy.”

“You’d be pretty intimidating if you were six-four,” Ryan said.

“Pfff, me? I could never be intimidating,” Devin laughed, crossing his feet over each other. “No one takes me seriously.”

“Maybe that’s because you don’t take yourself seriously,” Armstrong volunteered from behind Devin.

Devin turned to look at him, nearly falling thanks to the ten inches of height he’d just added. “I guess maybe not. I don’t not take myself seriously, but I’m friendly.”

“Every recruit starts out a real sweet boy,” Higgins said.

“I’m not a fucking recruit!” Devin snapped, and then he turned red. “Sorry - sorry - I shouldn’t have sworn, I never swear, I just meant-”

“I liked it!” Ryan laughed. “Swear more.”

“More?” Devin gulped.

“Say anything you want right now, as long as there’s profanity in it.”

“I’m not...uh, I’m not a…fucking…soldier!”

The men all burst out laughing, which reddened Devin’s cheeks further. “Of course you’re not, kid, this is the Marines!”

“Well then I’m not a fucking Marine! And I don’t wanna be a goddamn motherfucking Marine either!” Devin punctuated this sentence with an embarrassed giggle. It was fun to be around authority that let you say anything.

“And why don’t you want to be a Marine, Devin?”

“Because it doesn’t seem fucking fun. And I’m not some fucking tough guy.”

“Just cut your hair like one?”

“You think this shit’s a tough guy haircut?” Devin laughed, tossing his head to one side to flip the long wavy locks that he no longer had. “Tough to take care of, maybe.”

“Have to trim it up yourself at home, I bet, so it always looks fresh,” Ryan nodded.

“Yeah, sometimes.”

“You must shave every day, too.”

“Shave?” Devin laughed. “Fuck no, I don’t need to shave, thank Christ.”

“Someday you will,” Higgins said. “As you develop, you’ll find yourself with a heavy beard. The kind that turns into stubble after an hour. You’ll have to shave in the morning and in the evening, and you can use that time to tidy up your flat top. Maybe get your wife to help.”

“My wife?!” Devin coughed. “I don’t have a fuckin’ wife!”

“Well, maybe you should get one,” Ryan said sweetly. “Make some babies and raise ‘em up right.”

“That’s…that’s a long way away,” Devin said, scratching at his cheek. It was so rough! He hoped he wasn’t getting a rash. Probably just dry skin, he reasoned. And his balls hurt…his underwear was too small, which made them itch too. The men asked if he was all right. “Just fuckin’ itchy,” Devin shrugged.

“At least you keep your chest hair trimmed, so it doesn’t stick out of your collar.”

“I don’t have any fuckin’ chest hair,” Devin laughed. “What are you guys talking about?”

“But if you did, you’d keep it trimmed.”

“Of course! I’d always keep that shit trimmed so it didn’t stick out.” Devin imagined how he’d look with hair on his chest, and the mental image wasn’t half bad. If he had a heavy beard, he’d have a hairy chest too. Nice, thick, dark hair. Usually covered up, but if he wanted to let loose a little, he could leave his polos unbuttoned so people could see his chest hair. Damn…was that really what he counted as ‘loosening up’ nowadays?

“Look at him smiling,” Higgins said to Ryan, before turning to Devin. “What’re you smiling about, big guy?”

“Nothing, I just had this funny thought about my chest hair - that letting people see it meant I was letting loose. I’m just laughing at that being my idea of fun, I guess.”

“That would mean you were pretty uptight the rest of the time,” Higgins observed. “Do you think you’re uptight?”

“Nah, I’ve never thought that,” Devin said. “I’m fuckin’ chill.”

“What about your wife and kids? Would they say you’re uptight?”

“They’d say I was–hey, I don’t have a fuckin’ wife and kids!” Devin said. “I fucking told you that! Do I look old enough to be married with kids?”

“I don’t know,” Ryan admitted. “Maybe all the shaving talk threw us off.”

“Fuck, just ‘cause I have to shave twice a day and I have a hairy chest, doesn’t mean I’m gettin’ hitched anytime soon.”

“And why do you shave twice a day?”

“‘Cause I have a heavy beard,” Devin said.

“Yes, but why not let it grow and save yourself the trouble?”

“I’m not allowed to have a fuckin’ beard!” Devin responded.

“But why not?” Ryan smiled.

“What’s with the third degree?!” Devin said, thrusting his arms outward to gesture his befuddlement. But it also strained his t-shirt too much and tore it down the middle, exposing part of his chest and all the new hair it sported. He looked down at the dark curls protruding through the rip. “Oops…”

“Oh dear,” Higgins mused. “That must bother an uptight guy like you.”

“I’m not fuckin’ uptight!” Devin insisted, sliding his fingers across his chest hair.

Higgins cocked an eyebrow. “That’s not what I’ve heard. I’ve heard you’re a real tightass.”

“Yeah, I heard you’re a square,” Ryan agreed. “A stick in the mud.”

“Where’d you hear that?! I just follow the rules, that’s all.”

“You’re a stickler for them, aren’t you? You’re by the book,” Higgins needled. “Rulebreakers bother you.”

“Of course they fuckin’ do!” Devin said, clenching his fists. “I’m a disciplinarian. I hate when people step out of line. Fuckin’ chaps my ass. But I’m not a square!”

“Right, you’re a hardass,” Ryan said.

“Heh, yeah, who wouldn’t be scared of these guns,” Devin joked, flexing his biceps above his head. The veins on his forearms were a new and exciting sight. “You army guys must work out a lot, right? I mean, shit, sorry, you Marine guys must work out a lot.”

“We do. We eat a lot, too.”

“That’s where I fuck up,” Devin sighed, slouching. “I just don’t eat enough to ever gain weight. I can’t put on any muscle.” Despite this pronouncement, his arms filled his sleeves nicely.

“Well, what do you typically eat each day?”

“For breakfast, I’ll have yogurt…uhhh, for lunch, something at school, a slice of pizza or something-”

Higgins held up his hand. “You just have yogurt for breakfast? No wonder you’re not growing, recruit! You gotta be shovelin’ food down your gullet! You have to be not just hungry to eat, you have to be hungry to grow. I want you eating all the oatmeal and eggs and bacon you can possibly muster. And a slice of pizza for lunch? At your age, you can eat the ENTIRE pizza! And then when you’re older, chicken and rice until you’re ready to burst. Your body is aching to grow. Shit, it’s growing right now just thinking about all the food you’re going to put in it.”

And it was. Devin’s shoulders and chest were a bit wider. His thighs touched now. The seat of his pants was tight across his butt.

“Didn’t you tell me one of the reasons you fell in love with your wife is because of what a good cook she was? And how much she liked cooking for you?”

“D-did I?” Devin muttered, his shirt tearing further. He scratched his head, fingers prodding against his flat top, and he winced at how odd it felt. His sleeve ripped open over his powerful bicep as it flexed upward. “I don’t…I don’t quite remember it like that, but it’d be nice to have a wife who cooked for me…”

“You’re tellin’ me!” Ryan said. “Mine gets mad if I EAT her cooking!” He and Higgins burst out laughing, hitting the table as they talked about their own wives. Devin tried to listen, but he felt distant and confused, like he was looking at them through a glass wall. And his body felt so strange. His jeans were tearing down the sides, and every breath he took made his chest bigger, his back broader. Testosterone pumped through him like his own blood, growing his muscles bigger and bigger, reshaping his body into a weapon. His sleeves shredded apart as his delts bulked big and round, and when he tried to look down at them his chest demanded his attention instead, broadening into a wide barrel with thick, deep pecs that protruded straight out in front of him.

He widened his stance as his thighs got too large to rest against each other, calves bulging beneath them - powerful legs ready to explode off the block at a moment’s notice. That was when his shoulders got competitive and decided to widen - and widen - and widen, broadening out nearly as wide as the table Higgins and Ryan sat behind. Their growth thickened his neck and traps, which hulked out across his upper back and tore the rest of his t-shirt off. He managed to remain silent through all of this, but when his glutes pushed out into a muscular bubble behind him, he finally moaned loudly as he felt the two spheres push together.

Higgins and Ryan looked over at the tall bodybuilder before them. Six-feet-four-inches of carved, rippling muscle, capped by a chiseled and deliciously hairy set of pecs. Devin grunted and groaned as he ran his hands over himself, pulling on what remained of his clothes in a sad attempt to cover himself. The scraps that remained were stuck to him thanks to his salty sweat.

“If eating a lot made me look like that, my wife wouldn’t have a problem cooking for me,” Ryan said.

“Made you look like what, sir?” Devin croaked, his biceps and pecs swelling bigger in a fight for his attention. He scratched under his armpit, unaccustomed to all the hair fluffing out of it.

“Superman.”

Devin laughed, his muscles growing further, quietly filling more space around him. His small waist knotted into a dense eight-pack. “I think I’d get more dates if I looked like Superman.”

“I think you’d get more dates if you weren’t such a hardass and didn’t already have a wife,” Higgins interjected. “Most gals aren’t into married men with kids.”

Devin kept scratching at his body hair. “Kids…” he murmured to himself. “Married with kids…”

“That changes a man, doesn’t it? To have a family of his own.”

“Shit, yeah, it must,” Devin said, rubbing the back of his thick neck, the size of his bicep barely allowing the motion. “Because you have to provide for them…make sure they’re fed and have warm beds to sleep in, all of that. You can’t put yourself first anymore.”

“It’s like leading a battalion, isn’t it?”

Devin clenched his jaw. It was sharper than before. Bigger. “Yes. They rely on you.”

“Your men must admire your muscles.”

“They fuckin’ better.” Devin looked down at his body and flexed, his muscles tensing in a show of power. He ran his fingers through his chest hair, admiring the size and shape of his pecs. The room was quiet except for his heavy breathing. He flexed his stomach and rubbed his palm across the rigid muscles. “But I don’t think anyone respects me. I’m goofy.”

“Goofy?!” All the men in the room laughed. “You’re the scariest motherfucker here! Your men always worship you.”

Devin’s jaw grew again, the angles hardening. “What do you mean, my ‘men’? Like guys at school?”

“No. You’re the teacher now, and you have a body that commands respect and attention everywhere you go. Why don’t you put that hat on, see if it helps you understand more?”

Devin looked down at the campaign Stetson at his feet, long since dropped. “Where’d my hat go?” he asked, crouching down and picking up the olive hat. “This isn’t mine.”

“Of course it is! It’s your size, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think so.” Devin flipped the campaign cover onto his head. As soon as the expensive felt touched his scalp, his growing jaw cracked outward with new, powerful angles that reshaped his face. It was an odd sensation, one that made Devin grimace as his chin grew. His lips lost their youthful fullness and thinned into a tense, narrow line. “It feels kinda…” Devin tried to say, but the bizarre feelings continued, as his brow hardened into a protruding ridge that set his eyes further back in his skull. The emergence of sharp cheekbones tightened his midface and pushed the fat out of it, making him appear older, an illusion that was quickly becoming reality thanks to the new lines around his mouth and between his eyebrows.

Devin removed his hat for a moment, trying to find a comfortable stance for it, and revealed a flat top far grayer than moments before. It matched his new face. His smaller eyes were steely and mirthless; his expression permanently intense. He looked like he’d never heard a joke in his life.

He put his hat back on, fiddling with the back strap that held against his skull so that the brim could tilt slightly forward over his eyes. The Stetson was like a mirror image of his face, indentations on the dome angling inward like his cheeks.

“What sort of clothes do you like to wear?” Armstrong asked. “What are your favorite brands?”

Devin’s shredded clothes were reassembling themselves and looked nothing like what he’d walked in wearing. Strips of fabric pulled together seamlessly over his muscular frame. “Favorite brands, hmmm,” Devin said, his voice cracking. “I’m trying to remember…but I can’t qu-ITE-” His chest was yanked forward as if a tailor had a tape measure around it, buttons starting to pop into place as a new shirt formed. Devin continued talking, not acknowledging his voice deepening slowly and gradually as he did: “I wear, uh…well, I don’t shop that much. At least I don’t think I do. I like clothes that fit my body. Those can be hard to find sometimes.”

“Because you’re so muscular?”

“Yes,” Devin answered in an ever-deepening baritone, “because I’m so muscular. I have to order my shirts two sizes up so that they fit my chest, then have them tailored for my waist.” Even so, as Devin’s short-sleeved button down continued to form around him, the buttons over his big pecs were taut enough to make deep breaths ill-advised. His shirt had a pointed collar now, which lay flat against the bulging slabs of muscle protruding from his chest. A few inches below the points, flap pockets were stitching themselves onto Devin’s shirt.

It took a few seconds for everyone in the room to realize that the bass voice speaking was Devin’s, so quickly had it changed. “Pants are a pain in the ass too, because of my ass,” he said, missing the obvious joke. The two powerful glutes standing out pompously did not lend themselves to an easy fit, nor did Devin’s rippling thighs. Still, his pants managed to just barely fit him, their snugness displaying the power of his lower half. Around his waist snapped a striking canvas belt with a large, square gold buckle that depicted the same eagle as on his hat. Devin shook one leg as he felt something race down it under his pants, but then he felt it clip onto his socks and remembered, of course he was wearing shirt stays. He was never not wearing shirt stays. He looked down at his khaki button-down, like a second skin on him, not a single wrinkle thanks to the stays pulling the shirt tails tight as a drum. He could see the shape of his pecs and the ridges of his abs.

His head snapped back up. “What were we talking about?” he asked, voice fully transformed into a harsh, croaking bass.

“Your clothes.”

“Not much to say about them,” Devin said tersely, as four rows of ribbons popped onto his chest above his breast pocket. His short sleeves, nearly tearing over his hulking biceps, now sported large chevrons. The last appearance was his name tag, cracking into place above his other pocket like a snap bracelet. “I wear what I have to wear.”

“Well said.”

“No disrespect intended,” Devin said, his new voice sending reverberations through the room, “but are we finished here? I just came in for a tour and should probably be headed home.”

“Of course, Staff Sergeant. You can leave at any time. We’re sorry to keep you,” Ryan said.

“Thank you, gentlemen.” Devin shook both the men’s hands and then turned to look at Corporal Armstrong. “Will you see me out?”

“Of course, Staff Sergeant,” Armstrong smiled, opening the door.

Devin angled himself through it as he looked down at his tour guide. “Wasn’t I shorter than you?”

“Actually,” Armstrong said with a snap of his fingers, ignoring Devin’s question completely, “there’s one more room I should show you that everyone loves to see - the Reality Room!”

“Reality Room?”

“It helps you see yourself as a real marine.”

“Oh, like VR?” Devin asked.

“Something like that.”

“Cool.” Devin walked behind Armstrong, his polished shoes clacking loudly against the floor. He was irritated by how long the tour took - why on Earth were those guys so long-winded back there? - but his curiosity about what other secrets the building held was enough to spur him onward. He followed the corporal to a room at the end of the hall, and noticed Armstrong needed a keycard to open it.

“It’s pretty high tech,” Armstrong smiled. “Check it out.”

Devin stepped into the pitch black room and heard the door click shut behind him. For a moment, he didn’t see anything, and was about to tell Armstrong to let him out and stop wasting his fucking time. But then a tall screen - at least, Devin assumed it was a screen, but it looked more like a mirror with a projection behind it - flickered on, surrounded by large bulbs, and Devin saw himself. Staring back at him was the picture that was taken when he walked in.

The picture stayed on screen only for a moment as it was, before it began to change. Devin’s big grin faded into a stern grimace, and the picture began to stretch taller, wider, ripples in the animation swapping out Devin’s clothes for a uniform. Devin watched himself age to manhood, his physique bulking up into a bodybuilder’s, even his stance changing to rigid military posture. The light shifted - it looked like it clicked off, leaving just the mirror, but that was impossible, because the man was still there in the place of Devin’s picture. The mirror showed the biggest, scariest drill instructor Devin could possibly imagine.

“Heh, yeah, imagine,” Devin mumbled, and his eyes widened in shock when he saw the man in the reflection say it too. He took a step forward, and so did the big, middle-aged muscleman. He took his hat off and saw his graying flat top, so stiff and precise that a book could be set on it without bending a single strand. “Holy shit,” he croaked. It began to dawn on him what was going on…

…the most insane AR he’d ever seen! He wasn’t even wearing a headset, and yet this thing was able to depict the brawniest, manliest drill instructor on earth as his avatar. It was so real that his hat looked like a real drill instructor’s campaign cover, and his hands felt tough and weathered - like they’d lifted weights and been in fights. Devin couldn’t imagine himself ever being in a fight, but he could imagine the unit staring back at him being in one, easy. Or maybe not, because no one would cross this guy. One look would send any assailant running for the hills. Devin practiced the glare, knitting his thick eyebrows together, thrusting his jaw forward. Damn, that was one big jaw. He wished it was really his.

He straightened up and passed his hat between his large hands. “It’s me, boys,” he said, gasping in shock when he realized this room could make his voice sound like the froggy bass of a seasoned marine. “It’s me, Devin,” he said, imagining himself walking into one of his friends’ basement in this body - in this uniform - and scaring the shit out of them. That’d be a good joke.

Devin leaned in and inspected his face more. It had so many angles and crags. Like the side of a mountain. Just rocks and boulders jutting out everywhere. Just like this body! He flexed his chest and grinned at the buttons straining to hold in his pecs. “Not going to push me around anymore, fellas,” he smiled, but the smile didn’t seem natural on this face. The muscles just didn’t move like that. So he said it again with a scowl, and it worked better. No one would push this man around. No one would disrespect him. Devin didn’t fight with his friends, but he did sometimes feel like they didn’t take him seriously. Just like girls didn’t. But this man had on a wedding band - he had a wife! “Sorry ladies, I’m taken,” he said, adjusting his nuts in his pants, then letting his hand rest on his bulge. It felt huge. But of course, a man like this would have big balls and a long cock. He’d use it to please his wife and get her pregnant, or to intimidate smaller men when he was in a communal shower. Devin leered at himself as he massaged his dick through his uniform trousers. He flexed his muscles and felt them squeeze against his uniform. “You fellas don’t get to boss me around. I’m the boss now. Big bad…uh…” He looked at himself. He looked like Bruce Willis but even manlier and tougher. “Big bad Bruce,” he smiled. “No one fucks with Bruce.”

Devin was even more impressed when he unzipped his fly and held his girthy cock in his hand, stroking it lovingly. His calloused palm felt amazing against it. He’d been craving this. “…Craven. Staff Sergeant Bruce Craven.” A tough name for a tough man. Even his breathing - harsh and jagged - was manly. Even his scent, which filled the small space. He’d never felt better about himself than in this room. Seeing his reflection as a towering, terrifying drill instructor was something he’d never thought he wanted. He wasn’t born to be a marine, but Bruce Craven was. Bruce Craven was one scary son of a bitch.

He kept stroking himself and began to wonder if virtual reality could depict cum. He was already surprised it showed his genitals, and was able to depict them as convincingly belonging to a man of Bruce’s size. Devin wondered if he’d get in trouble if he masturbated to completion in here, but it seemed like something Bruce would do, because Bruce was a fearless specimen of manhood. Even if Bruce was a chronic rule follower, uptight and somber, he was a man with the testosterone of a herd of bulls. He could feel it inside of himself, like bolts of lightning. Masturbating was necessary to get through the day, and he still would be recharged and ready to go when he got home to his wife.

He snorted and stomped his foot as he jerked on his big dick. This military tech was next level - this felt 100% real - heck, it was so immersive that Bruce couldn’t quite recall his real name. He’d worry about that once he nutted. For now, he was relishing his chest hair bristling against his shirt, and his big muscles straining, and the sight of that manly beast about to bust - “hnnnghhh…” - he grunted as he imagined that man was really him. The respect he could instill with one look. The fear he’d strike into the hearts of young recruits… “FUCK yeah…” He stomped his foot again. It was so fucking loud and powerful. Everything about him was powerful. Big, strong Bruce-

That’s what got him blowing a load all over the mirror, which he realized wasn’t a video screen at the same moment that he stopped caring. Thick white spunk splattered onto his reflection, each pump pushing Bruce back up straighter and taller, until he stood emotionless in the middle of the room as his penis zipped itself back inside his pants. He looked at himself, the picture-perfect drill instructor in his immaculate uniform, shining like the barrel of a freshly polished gun.

He felt out of sorts, which angered him - any time he didn’t have complete control over a situation, it made him angry. He was scowling when he emerged from the room. “Corporal Armstrong,” he nodded curtly.

“Sergeant Craven.”

“Can I help you with something?”

“No, I was just wondering who was in there.”

“Mm.” Bruce nodded without another word and clomped off toward his office. His one stop on the way happened when he noticed the slouching young man at the front desk. “STRAIGHTEN UP, PRIVATE!”

The kid sat bolt upright. Bruce smirked and wondered if the kid had pissed himself a little. But it was his job to make others do their jobs. He was a mean son of a bitch, but he wasn’t cruel. And he took his creed very seriously, running through it in his mind as he headed into his new life.

These recruits are entrusted to my care. I will train them to the best of my ability. I will develop them into smartly disciplined, physically fit, basically trained Marines, thoroughly indoctrinated in love of Corps and country. I will demand of them, and demonstrate by my own example, the highest standards of personal conduct, morality and professional skill.

#transformation #age progression #reality change #mental change #bodybuilder #uniform #corruption #picture #muscle growth tf #dad

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