coyotes-rules-of-change

[coyotes-rules-of-change]

Aww, hate the tease? Wanna see that full man tiddy?

It's not something I can allow, unfortunately.

I saw this kid in the gym every day, and try as he might he could never seem to gain the muscle he sought. He was really just kind and the gym still made him nervous—all the regulars could tell. But they all respected him for his efforts despite his nervousness and lack of payoff. Everyone there did there best to encourage the little guy, all of us hoping for the best for him.

This bro was home for the summer from college. He was there every day but he wasn't ever considered a regular. This bro loved to show off. His exhibitionism transcended to the level of bullying and he directed it straight for that kid. Once this was around enough to tell how hard this kid worked for little reward the bro started stripping and flexing in front of him on a regular basis showing him "something he'll never have." It pissed off the regulars, and finally, it pissed me off.

If this bro is so eager to show off, maybe I'll make sure he never will. That's him in the picture above, just a strip tease on a loop. And I added an extra twist that he gets just a bit hornier every time but he'll only cum once his built and sculpted chest finally gets revealed. To bad he'll never show it off again.

[coyotes-rules-of-change]

HEY LOOK AT THESE ABS!!!

And now that I have your attention...

Putting out the call again. It's the weekend y'all! I wanna see what else ends up in my inbox.

Have a photo of your own in a blog somewhere? Send it my way!

Hey fellow TF fans,

I'm back, at least for now, and feeling horny creative. So I wanna try something.

Send me a photo (through asks) and I might use it for a caption or short story. And try to make sure the pics you send don't get me kicked off Tumblr...

If you send me a prompt, who knows? I may or may not bite.

Let's see how this goes.

[coyotes-rules-of-change]

Dappr: Take Pride Filter

Some say a picture is worth a thousand words. We think this picture is a perfect in-progress snapshot of our new photo filter.

Introducing the new Take Pride filter. This may seem like some self-confidence-boosting cosmetic Photoshop effect, but we can assure you that the change goes deeper. What we have to offer is far more real than you can imagine. These guys were five frat bros who didn't have much to offer. Before this, they wore jeans and T-shirts advertising various campus and frat activities. As you can see, they are now shirtless, as we don't want to deprive them of thoroughly enjoying the transition to their new selves.

After removing the shirts, we don't waste much time before moving on to the body transformations. These guys weren't exactly overweight but weren't frequent gym-goers either. Their bodies have been slimmed and trimmed so they can #TakePride in what they have to offer the world.

The best thing about this photo is how well it demonstrates the third and fourth phases of our app's transformative sequences. After all, we encourage our users to #TakePride in themselves and their bodies, but also to #TakePride in their sexuality. Phase three is a change in clothing, and phase four is a change in attitude. The jeans they wore have slowly become shorter and shorter and have transitioned into beachwear. By the end of Phase Two, these gentlemen were all wearing board shorts. As phase four progressed, their swimwear marked their journey of acceptance by becoming speedos.

The first one here is a bit farther behind the rest. The mental changes for him are just beginning, and he is clearly a bit apprehensive seeing what's happening to his friends as they begin to come out to their new lives. Or perhaps he's just now starting to see his friends in a new light. The next three are close. Sometimes, as new homosexual urges take hold on the heels of cosmetic changes, our users have undergone phase four, becoming progressively more enraptured by their idealized bodies, not realizing that the hypnotic engagement is a result of their newfound attraction to men. That focus quickly breaks as it has for the gentleman on the far right. He's already deciding which of these hotties he wants to make out with first.

[coyotes-rules-of-change]

For those who were fans of the original Mirror, Mirror short… How about another?

"Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the hungest one of all..."

Josiah walked into the locker room for probably the tenth time that day. He had no idea why one of the managers thought this stupid mirror inscription would be a good addition to the atmosphere at the gym. He could swear the extra cocky and dumb fuckboys walking around today were somehow summoned by the new inscription. Well, Josiah didn’t necessarily believe there was a direct correlation, but he did subscribe to the idea that you invite into your space the energy that you want.

That easygoing and positive demeanor made him one of the more popular trainers at the gym. Sure, he had a good physique, but it was because he cared for his body and health, and he thrived at the gym, teaching those guiding principles to others. On the other hand, staring at the latest patron’s use of the new mirror provoked his principles, reviving the reconsideration of his role in the toxifying workplace again.

“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the hungest one of all? It’s the epitome of envy and pride. Whoever wrote this has an ailing mind.”

Josiah turned to go, except…

He could swear the peripheral glance he’d caught in the mirror displayed a more noticeable bulge…

He turned back to alleviate the paranoia permeating his psyche… but it really did seem bigger. Josiah stepped closer, grabbing the protrusion in his shorts. He smiled as his hand groped the shaft beneath the fabric. He may not be the hungest—as the sign said—but he was definitely big. It’s the reason why he was popular at the gym—people thought he was all positive and zen, but he just looked good, and his dick was big enough that he never worried about jealousy. When you pack the member and muscle he had, it’s easy to keep envy at bay. Josiah’s training conduct centered on modeling the confidence a good body can get you. When you work hard and earn your ideal image, it’s not conceited to show off—it’s just the love you deserve to claim from yourself and your peers.

But Josiah knew as he looked in the mirror that as hard as his clients tried, they could never be him. He wasn’t just a model; he was a paragon. The clients who took him seriously—those bros could build muscle, grow broader, tone, and define and sculpt until they earn the bravado they’ve always had but never justified. But those same jocks could never pull the client base he had because they’d never had his gargantuan cock. Josiah was not at the gym to help improve lives; he was the main attraction. People paid money to be in his presence while he worked up a sweat to get a close-up look at his mythic bulge. Sometimes, in public, he’d catch a judging glance, or a “good Christian woman” would comment on his brashness, but even if he wanted to hide it, his shaft couldn’t be contained. No, instead, he was used to seeing the looks of envy, desire, lust, and hunger fall across the face of anyone he brushed past.

Josiah loved to pose and flex and flaunt in front of a mirror, but he had a gym floor to dominate. He turned around to go and lift.

Oh, he almost forgot—he was the hungest one of all; he can’t let that stay up. He erases the last word, leaving the fairytale phrase blank. Except all that flexing had left him aroused—a horse cock like his was insatiable. Maybe he can use the inscription for some solicitation. He fills in the blank and departs the locker room.

"Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the sluttiest one of all..."

[coyotes-rules-of-change]

I put out the call and have had one response so far. So, I now give you a new story based on an image sent to me by @rapids0. In this case, it's a sequel to my first story, Dappr, but you don't need to read what happened in part 1 to understand part 2.

I didn't respond directly to the ask in order to be able to insert the image as it appears in the story and not give away the ending at the beginning.

Dappr: "Get Noticed" Filter

After maybe 50 (100, 200?) times, the pop-up ad had worn Alan down. Sprinkled between the asses and torsos of his fruitless Grindr scrolling, each appearance of the solicitation grew the seed of temptation in his mind. "The Dappr App: Change how you look! Try our new "Get Noticed" Filter now!"

The AI photo modifier proved alluring the first time it dashed across Alan's feed, but he knew some AI-generated fantasies wouldn't help him get that sweet daddy dick his twink ass desperately craved. But in a market saturated by so many other lithe bodies like his, he wasn't finding nearly as much cock as he wanted, and the idea of getting noticed grew increasingly tantalizing. One day, instead of swiping left on the ad for the millionth time, he clicked "download."

Try the new Get Noticed filter!

Damn, they were pushing this new filter. The neglected twink might as well use it. He taps on the banner and is met with a menu of options to get started. He could upload a photo, but one option intrigued him more:

Connect your Grindr, Tindr, or Bumble profile.

It could be funny to see what "noticeable: persona the app could artificially generate using his profile. He clicked that, summoning the lead photo from his Grindr album.

After a few seconds, some words animate onto the screen and trigger a loading sequence.

Let's get you noticed!

The loading animation pulses across the screen until your new AI-generated profile pops up, first with the text content that contains some changes. Alan notes a new age, raised from 18 to 21. His tribe had changed to twunk, and his position was now vers. Then, the novel photos finally finish loading.

Alan let out a laugh. The new pics were pretty accurate. With the added muscle tone, the improved face, and the bathroom backdrop, the app succeeded in creating the illusion that he was more twunk than a twink. The app even caught the gray sweatpants he happened to wear today…

No, he wore jeans…

But when Alan—using the app while lying in his bed—looked down at his flat, twinky torso, he saw gray sweatpants—gray sweatpants he didn’t own—with a dark stain on the left thigh. And the stain was morphing, darkening, and defining until it matched the text and logo from the AI-generated Dappr image.

His eyesight must be going—or there was a gas leak, and he was hallucinating. A feeling was growing deep in his gut, perhaps nerves or fear or—something else. A baffling idea led to a wayward impulse, and he pulled up his shirt just in time to see abs becoming visible, groves etching themselves, revealing each pair in his plain stomach. The feeling that started in the pit of his abdomen was traveling up his torso. He lifted his shirt higher, catching the modest pecs of the Dappr “duplicate” swelling out of his formerly flat chest.

His arm cramps, and he drops the bottom hem of his shirt, turning his head to catch new biceps stretching the sleeves of his tee. Then he’s hit with an ache in his jaw; he runs to his bathroom to verify his suspicions in the mirror, and sure enough, his face has remolded itself, so he now resembles the twunk from the “Get Noticed” filter.

The next shift triggers a new stage of change. Alan’s tiny pecker swells, sending pleasure shooting through his nerves straight for his brain. His as is also growing outward into a nice bubble, but for the first time, his new cock is feeding him unfamiliar desires. The fake profile said he would be vers, and now he wants to have his new member in his hole just as much as he wanted his own hole filled. Parallel identities begin to take hold in his mind. A smile crossed his new face, the fresh persona relishing the attention he could get from his revamped looks and broader preferences, but inside, Alan was screaming, fighting to regain control from another identity he didn’t intend to have. More memories from a foreign life filter in, causing his thoughts to swirl together in a chaotic storm: days at the gym, nights out every weekend, bros and locker rooms, and casual fucks. But then, in the middle of the mental hurricane, a notification sound permeates the ongoing memory-rewrite.

BONUS: After reviewing local Grindr statistics, a better profile is available to GET YOU NOTICED! Please stand by while a new profile is generated.

The loading animation returns. The parallel personas in Alan’s mind seem to hold their fronts in their battle, leaving the mental hurricane in a permanent state of chaos. His focus is pulled to the limit, but he still manages to note the same tension in his gut from before, even while the loading screen still scrolls across his phone. The feeling rises and flares across his entire body. All he can register is tension and ache in every muscle. His limbs expand, pulling his unchanged shirt taut across his frame. As the fabric stretches and strains, the binding fabric sends Alan into a panic. He paws at the constricting material, but a new power he didn’t know he had causes him to rip the garment to shreds, revealing Alan’s new form.

Overall, he’s broader. His shoulders are wider, and his lats have flared out, giving his torso the iconic masculine “v” shape. The rest of the muscles across his torso have all become further defined, including some deep chasms. His biceps boast added bulk, and he knows that beneath the larger gray sweats, he now has thick and defined thighs.

And then the stirring below his belt starts again; Alan fears what this would add to his already unsettled mind. But as the pleasures of his growing cock again zapped across his nerves, the stormy chaos in his mind from the two previous dueling personas began to slow, calm, and release, giving way to a dull haze. The fuckboy twunk faded away, but Alan’s original self was frantically fighting against the authoritative stillness, fearing what it would bring.

Another surge of arousal from his cock as it grew beyond just average dimensions, but it was more than just a sense of bliss coursing towards his brain. This wave was driven by the inflation of his balls, sending testosterone through Alan’s veins. Hair sprouted across between his pecs, dusting his abs and giving him thickets beneath in his armpits. He got sweaty and sticky and stinky, developing a strong musk that he’d never be able to lose. At the same time, the potent daze in his mind was giving way to an intensifying hunger. Alan had to check back in with his phone, which in the last frenzy of changes, had ended up on the bathroom counter in front of him.

What he saw struck terror into what was left of the docile twink. The words in the profile included jock, top, and dominant. But the photo drew his focus more than the text. The hunk in the photo had a look on his face. He was dumb, vacant, aggressive—totally unlike Alan.

Alan could feel the rising hunger in his mind. He was craving pleasure and dominance, anticipating the moment he would cease to be a twink and claim the power he now possessed without restraint. He looked up from his phone, gazing back at his own face in the mirror. He still possessed the boyish charm from the first round of changes. His eyes still had a sense of innocence and betrayed his sense of fear. But that wouldn’t last. Alan felt the familiar ache in his jaw, his cheeks, and this time most pointedly across his forehead. His jawline sharpens, his cheekbones raise, and a short beard sprouts across his face. His young eyes telegraphed the peak of his fear before his brow reshaped, descending into a permanent scowl that would guarantee he’d always be telegraphing his assertive demeanor.

Alan blinked and stared for a moment.

Then he remembered his incredible physique. He put both hands behind his head and flexed his abs—just like in his Grindr photo. Apparently, he liked that pose. No problem; his hands separated from the back of his head, opening into a bicep flex. His sculpted muscles looked good in any position.

His mind buzzed with the constant arousal of his demanding cock. He pulled it out over the waistband of his sweats and gave it a stroke. He might have an ass carved with muscle, but his meaty member sought all his attention. He reached for his phone. His physique ensured he solicited almost every twink in the area. He used Grindr like a Dominos for empty holes: message any twink and have them on-site in 30 minutes or less. As his horniness grew, a notification sound pings from his phone—another twink, and right on time—

Except that wasn’t a sound he’d heard from Grindr before. Instead, something unexpected flashed across his device.

Winner! You won our lottery to qualify for the best Grindr settings available in your area. Please stand by while a new profile is generated. Let’s get you noticed!

“Alan the twink,” feeling the same feeling in his gut for the third time, would be sent into another terror spiral, but the feeling growing inside “Alan the jock” sparked anticipation and excitement. He rode the wave of pleasure as the marks of change, previously in stages, fire simultaneously.

His body grows larger, muscles expand, and his pecs become big and plump. Alan the Jock should hate the layer of fat magnifying his midsection. Still, the mental changes accompanying the transformation allowed him to savor his more prominent presence, knowing he was still gaining more brawn and strength beneath the flab. His cock gets just a bit longer but significantly thicker, and his balls descend yet lower than before. Alan moans, his voice becoming deeper and fuller as his sexual organs send pleasure throughout his burly physique. The hair across his pecs and abs spreads further until his entire body and his musk develops an edge—a pheromone that makes almost anyone around him suggestable. His face grows round, his hairline recedes, and his beard grows fuller.

The changes might seem like a downgrade to some who may prefer to remain a jock or even a twunk. But the mental changes carried through the transformation, leaving him confident and eager. He paws at his thick cock through his army-green sweats and produces a low growl from the wave of arousal he feels. He could be like any of those cocky jocks or the even more abundant sea of twinks and twunks. But any one of them—even the jocks—will always submit to the most noticed of all, a Daddy.

[coyotes-rules-of-change]

The Bro Phone

As he stared at the phone, he figured a lone and worn down beach-side payphone like this one would be the perfect catalyst for an urban legend. Now, dared by a friend, he steps up to the modern relic to follow the simple process laid out in the local lore: pick up the phone and put the speaker to his ear.

Not even a dial tone. The stupid thing doesn't even work, but then—

Bro

Hold on. Did he really hear that? He presses the top of the phone tight against his ear to be absolutely sure, then, after a few more moments...

Bro

Hahaha. No way! He chuckles, perhaps a bit of a dumb chortle for his tastes but the whole thing seemed so novel he couldn't help it!

Bro

Huhuhuhuh... His chuckle was lower now, and duller. He was dumbfounded by the repeated word coming through the supposedly dead line.

Bro

His shirt unravels and falls as sand onto the sidewalk while his jeans slide up his calves, past his knees, crawling all most all the way up his thighs until the cut of the leg so short the garment barely surpasses the classifications of a brief. His bony chest and skinny legs are exposed to the open air and the thought brings a vacant grin to his face.

Bro

With the arm free from his ongoing one-note chat with the handset, e flexes his bicep, showing off his slender frame—a comic and futile gesture. But he needs to flex if he wants to be a

Bro

His biceps grow and the individual muscles of his upper arm begin to define themselves as they inflate.

Bro

Two pecs swell out of his formerly flat chest. His skin tone is adopting the perfect tan.

Bro

And below those pecs, abs carve their way down his torso, joined by a newly formed adonis belt.

Bro

His chicken legs pump up with muscle and lengthen giving him extra height—the bro phone makes sure bros don't skip leg day.

Bro

His jawline sharpens and stubble sprouts across his cheek. A mustache and a goatee form around his lips.

Bro

A final change. A bulge forms in his gym shorts. "Yooooooo. I fuckin love this!" He bellows.

And finally, he responds back to the repetitive voice in the payphone:

Bro

A click. A dial-tone. Another happy bro.

The awareness of his surroundings return and he remembers the friend who just witnessed the change. At that moment he looks up from the payphone and looks at you.

His new strength, agility, and speed left you with no chance. One second you're trying to escape and the next you feel the plastic pressed against your ear and a single word enters your mind.

Bro

[coyotes-rules-of-change]

Hey fellow TF fans,

I'm back, at least for now, and feeling horny creative. So I wanna try something.

Send me a photo (through asks) and I might use it for a caption or short story. And try to make sure the pics you send don't get me kicked off Tumblr...

If you send me a prompt, who knows? I may or may not bite.

Let's see how this goes.

[coyotes-rules-of-change]

Part 3: Christopher

The long awaited continuation of my first series—I’m assuming… If you missed the first parts, please feel free to enjoy Part 1: Kellen and Part 2: Adam before you continue on with Christopher. In terms of content warnings, Kellen is still quite rough and aggressive, but it seems as though the new and improved Adam has helped the raging jock tone it down a bit.

Kellen wasn't sure what had happened with Adam. He knew two realities: one where Adam was an insufferable nerd who was Kellen's submissive ticket out of academic probation. But now Adam was an insatiable twink who got off on Kellen's abusive nature, and now Adam has become an almost addictive part of Kellen's life. Kellen had always been unwaveringly straight, but now he continued to use Adam's ass as a routine receptacle for his pent-up aggression. Instead of Kellen bullying the nerdy Adam into completing his schoolwork, Adam seemed to feed on Kellen's demeanor, controlling every rough and raging moment of their daily fuck sessions. It clearly drove Adam's prude of a roommate crazy, leaving the poor Ben rapidly departing his several accidental intrusions with an unmistakable look of shame.

But Adam's sexual hold over Kellen left his primary motivation unmet. Kellen needed another way to boost his grade. Lucky for him, nerds were everywhere; he just had to select one. Kellen scanned the dining hall. He considered a business major sitting in a booth. The kid, Kenneth, made a habit of dressing professionally and was always down for a deal, but Kellen needed to be sure his geeky clothes could guarantee good grades. It dawned on him that he could use Adam's roommate, Ben. It would be gloriously sadistic, and Ben was actively failing to hide the fact that he'd noticed Kellen across the hall and was nervously attempting to blend in. That did seem like a fun idea to Kellen, but a new victim crossed his path.

The D&D club had just finished its lunch meeting, and one of the hapless members walked right in front of the jock. D&D, comic books; the perfect nerd just walked right in front of him and out the dining hall doors, unaware of the follower he'd managed to pick up.

Kellen paced his stalking to ensure he caught his new grunt in the dormitory stairwell. "Hey, nerd..."

Christopher barely had any chance to react before being shoved against the wall. Comic books spilled across the ground, and the pudgy fanboy stared up at the menacing jock with an imposing figure matching those of the superheroes on the covers of the comics now plastered on the floor. But instead of heroic deeds, these muscles worked to intimidate and scare.

"Do you enjoy math, nerd?" Kellen's stare bore into the poor bookworm.

"Well... uh, no, not re—" Christopher barely managed to stutter out his response before Kellen barrelled on.

"No, you don't get it, do you. You enjoy math, dweeb."

Again, Kellen doesn't wait around for Christopher's stuttered response. "Wait, but I don't think—"

"This is my math homework." Kellen holds up a few papers. "This is due tomorrow. You can meet me tomorrow morning, nine o'clock, in the locker room at the school gym. It had better be done."

Kellen releases Christopher and turns to go, but against his better judgment, Christopher talks back to his departing bully.

"But wait! I already have my own homework! And I have a class at 8:30! I can't meet you at—"

Again, Christopher is interrupted, finding himself slammed up against the banister.

"You see these muscles, right?" Kellen didn't wait for a response. "You don't have to read your little comic books to know that I can fuck you up. You'll be there. Tomorrow. At nine."

Kellen turns to go, and Christopher slumps to the ground. This time he's wise enough to stay silent as the asshole jock strides out the stairwell door.

——————

The whole encounter in the staircase baffled Christopher as much as it terrified him. He wasn't sure why he'd been selected for this daunting task but was pretty sure the stupid athlete saw the comic books and thought he was bookish and nerdy. He really wasn't; quite frankly, he was good at math, but it wasn't anything he considered fun. Why do jocks like him think a love of comic books translated into unlimited intellect and a life of devotion to school work? Life is not the Big Bang Theory—in fact, Christopher had a few failing grades of his own, but the jock selected him. What could he do about it?

Christopher was worried about being able to complete the assignment until he actually looked it over and realized he'd covered this stuff in high school. Unfortunately, tomorrow's "assignment" turned out to be a backlog of nearly a week of work. Frankly, this guy was dumb if he made it into college without being able to pass high school-level assignments. It also wasn't until Christopher was finished and he went to write the name in at the top of the assignments that he realized he didn't even know the guy's name—yup, this guy is pretty fucking stupid.

As Christopher drifted off to sleep—later than expected due to the added work—it dawned on him this might not be the last time he'd have to do this. He wished he didn't have to worry about the dumb jock's work. It was that moron's mess to get out of, not his.

——————

The following day, Christopher decided to head to the meeting point early. He suspected the jock wouldn't react kindly if he were late. Ten minutes early, Christopher and his Spiderman graphic tee walked in the gym doors at the school rec center. Only then did he realize how out of place he'd be. It was clear from his short stature and paunchy frame that he'd never walked through those doors in two years as a student here. It took a good half a minute before he realized he'd stopped the moment he'd walked through the door. Regaining his motor function, he awkwardly walks up to the unattended counter. After waiting a few eternal moments, a huge black guy enters through a back door.

"Can I help you?" the man asks dryly.

Yet again, Christopher can only stutter. Only this time, it's because he's starstruck and intimidated, staring at a man with the broad frame of a superhero. In front of him was Kyle, the front desk worker, but in his mind, Christopher was staring up at a man who looked more like M'Baku from the MCU.

Growing frustrated, Kyle tries to get something out of the mute kid in front of him. "Can I help you?"

"I... uh... well, I—uh..." Finally, Christopher managed to muster a thought. "I need to go in..."

Kyle looked inconvenienced. "Are you a student?"

"Uh... yeah."

"Just swipe your I.D., kid."

Kyle returned to the back room, leaving Christopher in his awkward haze. It was for the best. Had the interaction lasted any longer, Christopher might have found himself attempting the Wakandan salute to fill the tension. And that would not have been beneficial... or appropriate.

Christopher walked to the row of turnstiles, slowly pushing through after swiping his card. Then he looked up. Christopher found himself surrounded by physiques ripped from the covers of his comics. This was getting more challenging. Frozen just beyond the turnstile, he realizes he might like the comic books for more than just their storylines. Presented with the real-life muscular forms of his favorite heroes in every corner of the school gym, he realized he was getting a little hard. Another scan of the room, and he jolts, realizing his nerves since entering the building had burned through a lot of his early start. He needed to be in the locker room in just one more minute... Fortunately, a steady bustle through another door allowed him to figure out where to go. Unfortunately, he had to walk across the long room packed with sweaty athletes. Christopher locked his gaze on the door and sped through, using every ounce of effort to ignore everything around him until he pushed into the locker room.

Like the gym behind him, the locker room also bore a smattering of athletic physiques... but he should have remembered what the locker room was for. Every muscle was on display: pecs, abs, biceps, thighs, calves, more. He was lucky that—at least for the moment—none of the jocks in the locker room were actively changing their underwear. The panorama before him left him genuinely paralyzed. Right on cue, the bully from the stairwell came around a corner into the view of his latest victim.

Kellen sported nothing more than a towel and a sly grin. The physique he had on display was just like Captain America, but Christopher knew he was nothing like the upstanding model citizen from the comics. Nonetheless, Christopher was flushed. The muscular form in front of him made him harder than he'd ever been despite the sheer terror coursing through him.

Kellen just leaned in and grabbed the papers Christopher held in his hand. He looked it over. "This looks right, not that I'd know. I'd better get good grades or else..." Kellen flexed a bicep. "I'll have to teach you a lesson."

Christopher just gulped.

"Here's my phone." Kellen hands over his phone with an empty contact pulled up. "Put in your number. If I text you, you respond. If I tell you to meet me, you show up—on time. So far, you're doing great."

Christopher still stands frozen and mute but manages to take the phone and enter his number.

"Here's your next round of work. I have my class at three so we'll need to meet before then. You have a lot to do in the next few hours. Good thing you skipped class, right?"

"I— I— I—..." Christopher knows he won't be able to pull off such a tight turnaround, but his brain is overloaded. He can only stutter.

Kellen turns to go, but then turns back and gets out his phone. "Oh wait, I almost forgot." He opens up his camera app and snaps a selfie. One where the camera is placed low, around his waistline, aiming up the grooves of his abs and capturing his cocky smirk just beyond his hard pecs. "Let me send this to you. I'm gonna need a contact photo, right?" He hits send and walks away. Christopher feels the text alert buzz in his pocket. He regains his composure and blazes out of the rec center at top speed.

——————

Kellen figured the nerd that interested in comic books would flush at the sight of all those jocks in the locker room. The little weakling couldn't even speak! Frankly, it couldn't have gone better. At noon, he decided he'd send his summons to the little ant.

Meet me at 2. Dining hall

He was met with a few seconds of the three dots (...) before the nerd replied.

We should just meet at the gym again

In literally any other instance, he'd punish this kind of insubordination. But if this little dweeb wants to head back to that locker room, Kellen was more than happy to make that work.

Sure, bro, see you there

——————

Kellen arrived twenty minutes early. He disrobed and posted up in the shower, where he could see over the top of the curtain once the nerd showed up. He thought he'd rattle the little fatty with a full view of his naked body since his shirtless torso already turned the little guy into a temporary statue. The anticipation burned through the remaining minutes until two o'clock came... and then went.

2:05. Kellen is getting frustrated. But then again, he looked forward to the beat-down he'd get to deliver his insubordinate slogger.

2:10, and Kellen was about to end his time in the shower stall, reaching for the knob to shut off the water, but just then—

"Yo, Kellen! You here, bro?"

Probably just one of his dumbass teammates. "Over here, bro."

Kellen turned off the water so he could grab a towel before the other voice could get to the shower stalls. He's in the middle of drying off when—in an instant, out of nowhere, a bulky form appears behind him. It's all so out of the blue, but Kellen processes the sudden contact from behind in quick fragments... A compression shirt covering hard muscle pressed against his back; his waist gripped by strong calloused hands; A pair of gym shorts restraining a thick cock teasing his ass; an exhale brushing across the skin of his neck as the one standing behind him moves in for a kiss... Desire welling up inside him as he takes in the man behind him—

And in another instant, Kellen pushes away and whips around. He's face to face with... who is that? He'd never seen this jock in his locker room before. Kellen was about to come unhinged at the initiation of the homoerotic violation. "Who the fuck—"

But the new jock cuts in with a far more casual tone, "Whoa, Kellen, bro! I'm sorry I startled you."

Kellen's still blazing on in his rage, "What the hell was that?!"

The jock just grins and moves in towards Kellen, peeling off his Spiderman compression shirt, "I thought we were meeting in the locker room at 2, bro."

And then, acting just an impulse faster than Kellen's straight defensive rage, the new guy has his hand on Kellen's cock. Sparks jolt through his psyche, allowing the homophobic hostility to be overcome by hunger and desire. The feeling swells, and Kellen's world shifts. Christopher, the pudgy comic book nerd he'd met yesterday, was Chris the jock, Chris, his best bro.

Christopher loved the tales of heroism and hope found in the pages published by Marvel and DC of those—often in peak physical shape—using their stature, both physical and otherwise, for good. It was a world where those who looked just like his bullies were the best of humanity... well, humanity and the broader universe.... well, the broader universe and the multiverse... And maybe, as he became all too aware of that morning meeting that unknown asshole jock who shoved him against the wall in a stairwell—maybe, he enjoyed those big muscular men beyond their presence in the plot lines.

The new version of Chris loved superheroes, too, growing up as the MCU took hold and bloomed into a cultural cornerstone. He watched multiple A-list stars debut as new hero after new hero, unveiling muscle they'd gained just for the role. Through high school, the fanatic teen had taken up weight lifting—at first, just to be close to the novice jocks and then realizing some hard work would earn him a coveted form of his own. By the time he'd reached college, he'd set his sights on a career path as a sports physician and trainer, allowing him to interact with muscle daily. And the marvel-worthy body he'd built for himself meant he walked among jocks and their sculpted forms as an equal. They even recognized his heroic obsession by referring to him as "the fifth Chris"—after Evans, Hemsworth, Pratt, and Pine.

However, Chris's obsession with muscle was more than personal and professional. He had several of his bros on the hook for routine sessions for worship, wanking and other forms of general pleasure. Some of them justified it as straight bros being straight bros, and others were more emotionally invested. Chris didn't care either way as long as it was muscle and pleasure. "Muscle and pleasure" were all Chris cared about and his entire reality revolved around those things.

But Kellen's reality was split in two. He was waiting in the shower to intimidate Christopher with his physique and sense of shamelessness for his own enjoyment and, frankly, to indulge his penchant for psychological torture. But now, he remembers heading for the showers, knowing Chris would join him, and they could jack each other off before heading out to the workout floor to lift. Christopher's first visit to the locker room that morning was just another morning for Chris; Kellen's exhibitionism was matched and escalated by Chris until they were making out against the lockers. At the same time, their hands ran across their brawny frames. That photo Kellen sent to Christopher—the first thing he'd sent the flabby wimp—was just one of many suggestive photos frequently exchanged between him and Chris. And that first meeting with Christopher was just one of many times he and Chris had fucked in the stairwell. In this case, Chris had pinned him against the banister while he thrust his thick cock powerfully into Kellen's muscled ass, but they traded off who topped and who bottomed regularly. But of course, that's where they'd end up after Chris coyly walked past him in the dining hall while making sure to give his jock cock a firm squeeze. Kellen knew that was the sign that he should follow Chris to one of their secret spots.

Kellen could still remember the plump comic enthusiast he'd known for just over a day, but his head rolled back as the pleasure of his best bro's grip on his cock overtook him. He could also remember how straight he was; years of locker room shenanigans in high school and college all followed up with the obligatory "no homo" tag. Now those same homoerotic displays from Kellen's high school days were received differently in the college locker room when another freshman jock met the provocative pageant with his own brash acts. The daily game of gay chicken between bros inevitably gave way to overt sexual acts. Kellen was still straight, but he now had two former nerds whose routine fuck sessions he craved. Adam was a fixed booty call who thrived off his aggression, but Chris was now woven into his college memory as a constant presence in nearly every workout. And he extracted and reciprocated every one of Kellen's provocative and vulgar impulses until they worked themselves up into a sexual frenzy.

He knew it was the first time he'd done this, but his impulse followed the lead of nearly two years of memories this new reality had bestowed—he reached into Christopher's gym shorts and pulled the meaty shaft out of its confines. The jocks moved in closer, their pecs and abs coming together, one hand exploring, groping, rubbing, caressing the hard muscle, the other moving up and down the rod of the other bro. Lips meet, lusts rise, and breath grows heavy. Chris' thoughts are overwhelmed by the feeling of his hand running across his bro's wet skin, feeling the firm muscle underneath. The pleasure of his fingers tracing the familiar contours of his bro's body mixed with the bliss of Kellen's firm stroking up and down his cock. He loved how much Kellen loved showing off. He loved Kellen's attention to detail as he honed his physique. And most of all, he loved that Kellen loved his MCU body just as much as he did.

Kellen moans and tightens his grip. Chris moans and tweaks a nipple. Kellen's hand drifts south and gropes Chris' ballsack. Chris playfully bites Kellen's lip. The moaning and groaning swell, and jock seed shoots upwards, landing on two sets of abs.

"Mmmph…" Kellen just moans in his post-nut bliss, leaning back against the wall.

"Yeah, that was good, wasn't it, bro?" Chris changed the subject. "I gotta know. You find a nerd to get your grades up?"

The question jolts him out of the haze. Whatever this… curse was he was dealing with, that inquiry was laden with irony and insult. Resentfully, he responds with a pointed "No."

Chris didn't seem to notice. "I'm gonna go lift." He uses Kellen's towel to wipe off the cum on his chest before he slips his Spiderman compression tee back on, "I wanna shoot a thirst trap later to show off these gains to the comic book nerds on my TikTok."

Kellen was left leaning against the wall, stewing, reminded of his unfulfilled objective. Yet again, he was feeling pent-up, restless, angry, engaged— He texted Adam.

In 5 minutes, your ass is mine

And, of course, Adam replied:

OMG Yaaasss Daddy!!!🍆🍆🍆

[coyotes-rules-of-change]

He saw those stupid glasses sitting on the bench. They'd make him look just like a jock, it would be funny. He put them on and his demeanor shifts. He takes off his shirt to reveal his bare chest and "guns"... except nothing there was notable—yet. He's been talking to guys and girls alike for the past five minutes as his sense of shame and modesty becomes a distant past. He's settled on a bench—legs spread wide to accommodate his...adequate package.

Don't get me wrong, he's starting to look good... but wait five minutes... he's gonna look much more the part, and whatever you're wanting to do—I can guarantee, he'll be down for it too.

[coyotes-rules-of-change]

Part 2: Adam

This is part of my first series! If you missed the first part, please feel free to enjoy Part 1: Kellen before you continue on with Adam. In terms of content, this is rather new territory. There is a bit of violent content, bullying, slurs. This is likely to be the only part of this series with that kind of content.

Kellen knew about Adam long before he found himself in academic turmoil. The poor kid was the perfect punching bag. Kellen took pride in the fact that this kid skirted the perimeter of any campus space where he saw any jocks. Unfortunately Adam couldn't avoid Kellen when they lived on the same floor of the residence halls. Even when he'd change schedules or leave out the fire escape stairs instead of the main entrance, Kellen would still manage to find him and insult him, shove him, dump out his backpack, throw him in a trash can—basically everything besides throwing outright punches.

Adam came to the bottom of the fire stairs and found his path blocked by Kellen. All he could do was freeze—his fight or flight reflexes worn down to nothing but paralysis.

"Hey nerd, I need something, and you're gonna do it for me."

Adam continued to quake, unable to muster any further reaction.

Kellen smiles. "Glad to see you won't object. I have a paper due tomorrow in my history class. You're gonna do it for me. Here's the rubric," he balls it up and throws the paper in Adam's face. "I'd better get a good grade."

Kellen punched his fist into his other hand to emphasize his point. "See you tomorrow with the essay, right dweeb?"

"Uh... yes." Adam barely manages to get out. He knew the only way to get out of this was giving in and playing along.

"Just yes? I thought I'd taught you respect by now." Kellen took a menacing step closer.

"Yes, sir." Adam looked down as he said it, hoping it would be enough to appease the menace. He waited for Kellen to say more, but he just laughed and walked away. Adam collapsed on the landing. He'd be late for class again but he needed a few minutes for the fear to leave him.

-------------------------

A week later, Adam is loosing sleep. He already maxed out his workload on his own school schedule and now he had another one—well, it wasn't quite as rigorous as his own work but it was demanding, demeaning, and had to always take priority or... well he didn't wanna find out.

Two weeks later Adam is deep into mid-terms. He barely sleeps, his anxiety has risen steadily, and he was starting to slip on his own workload. His roommate Ben is a nerd like him with ambitions to be valedictorian and president of the student senate, etc.—a much more high-profile brainiac. His campus-wide notariety is probably why he never manages to face the wrath of the school's star jock. Ben sees Adam's mental health slipping and tries to check in on his roommate, but he evades. After a few times, Ben gets more insistent and manages to get the truth out of him.

"But that breaks so many rules. You've gotta turn him in."

"You don't understand, Ben. I don't know what he'd do to me and... it's terrifying." Adam breaks down crying for the third time in the course of the conversation.

"Then I can," Ben volunteers, "and he won't take it out on you."

"You're my roommate. He'd still make me pay for it."

"Then we could—"

Adam shuts down his roommate. "Don't do anything. Please, don't do anything. I can't risk it. There's nothing either of us can do that doesn't result in me facing consequences."

Ben, still visibly not over it, decides to let it go. He leaves for the library so Adam can have the room to himself.

Working late into the night and the early morning, Adam gets all the work done but the conversation with his roommate still weighs on him. It's cheesy, but he even looks out his window at a particularly bright star and wishes he could do something about Kellen, wishes there was some way out. But that was never going to work.

Ben returned at a rather late hour—2:30 am—but Adam was still awake even after his room mate returned and went to bed. He finished up around 4:30am and went to get even just a few hours of sleep.

-------------------------

The next day brought sun and warmth. Adam had no time to take it in or enjoy it as he sent the daily batch of assignments to Kellen that morning before breakfast. The jock would send him a message through Snapchat—since nothing was saved there—telling Adam where to meet, or from time to time, where to drop the assignments. He fell asleep in both his morning classes, one of which was review for the midterm test coming up later in the week. Adam was so defeated and exhausted that he didn't even bother with lunch, choosing instead to head back to his dorm for a nap. He hoped that would help him get through the test he had at 2:30.

Ben returned shortly after. He barged into the room expecting to find it empty and found Adam just drifting off.

"Oh, sorry. I wasn't expecting you to be here." Ben said from the doorway.

"Yeah, I just needed a nap. Hopefully I don't get too hungry in my afternoon classes."

Ben clearly wanted to say more. Adam was sure that his roommate was still holding back his urge to do something for him with his Kellen problems, but Adam was grateful Ben decided against bringing anything up. After mulling it over for a moment, Ben settles for a different approach: "I'm getting lunch, but I can bring you something before your next class."

Adam was so tired he could cry and the simple showing of kindness. "That would be great. Maybe a burger?"

Before exiting, Ben left Adam with an obviously coded statement of support. "Adam, you know I would do anything in my power to help you right now." But ultimately Ben seemed to respect Adam's requests to stay out of things with Kellen and ducked out without pushing the matter further.

-------------------------

Adam woke up an hour later feeling quite refreshed. He looked over at his desk and saw Ben had returned at some point with a salad. Adam sat up and looked out the window, taking in the nice weather for the first time. He had a half an hour to kill with some last-minute studying and then he had to pick up some assignments from Kellen before his test.

He sits at his desk, eats the salad, then opens his textbook and class notes... but despite feeling renewed by his nap, the words on the page still danced around like he was tired and he couldn't settle in. He must still need more sleep... or he must want to feel the sunshine before his class. It was just so nice out—of course he was distracted. Maybe he'd benefit more today by "touching grass" instead of cramming—after all, mental health was just as important as studying.

-------------------------

At 2:05, Kellen was ready to shove Adam against a wall. At 2:10, he was ready to throw punches at the little punk. This dweeb was always way too afraid of him to ever show up late, but today Kellen knew he'd have to teach a more impactful lesson since respect had clearly not yet sunk into the mind of this geek. He messaged Adam over Snapchat:

WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU!!!

After progressively more threatning messages, he finally gets a response—accompanied for the first time by a photo from Adam.

It was a nice day out Thought I'd go out for a run

Something was seriously off. Since when was Adam a runner? Since when did he take selfies, or wear tank tops. Hell, did he have all that muscle tone before hidden under his conservative clothes, or was that somehow new? Now Kellen was as confused as he was angry.

YOU NEED TO GET HERE NOW!!!

Another response, and another picture from Adam:

oh hehe i totally forgot i can be so dumb sometimes i'll run over to you quick, ive already worked up a sweat i can't wait to see you😜

Kellen was dumbfounded, though not as dumb as the new Adam seemed to be. He was suddenly some homo. This was either an elaborate prank or something fucked up was going on here. Before he could process further, Kellen receives another message:

see u soon daddy

Kellen stared in shock. This was a prank for sure, but he wasn't going to stick around for part 2. Instead, he was going to teach this geeky fucker a lesson tonight—and whoever else helped him with this. No one humiliates and defies him and gets away with it.

-------------------------

Despite his fury, Kellen was kinda impressed with the depth of the prank. This fake Adam had set up social media accounts. That last selfie he sent Kellen was even cross-posted on all his socials in their stories and somehow there were bots set up so the pages had thousands of followers and the posts had hundreds of likes and comments. This imposter even looked more muscular than before—probably yet another fake in on the scheme.

Even so, Adam's fate was sealed. Kellen waited until after dinner. He knew the nerd would be studying. After 7pm, he stormed down the short hallway to the geekling's door and pounded on it.

"Open up. You know who it is, so you'd better not ignore me."

The door opened and in a split second Kellen was inside with the person at the door shoved up against the wall, hitting the brick hard.

"Ungh." he moaned.

Kellen had acted so quickly he hadn't taken stock of who had answered his knock. The sexual moan broke his blind rage in an instant and he registered who he had in front of him. He only had a brief moment to register the blonde from the social media pages before he responded.

"Oh, Daddy, that felt so good. I was waiting for you all day."

Kellen is struck by a wave of repulsion. Was he turning this little twink on? He goes to push the imposter harder against the wall, but the homo looks him dead in the eye, bites his lip, and grabs Kellen's dick. He's immediately hard. His rage mixes with his horniness and his desires become carnal. Kellen whirls the little slut around and pulls out his thick cock. Adam is ready, as usual, wearing nothing but a jock strap allowing for immediate access. He thrusts inside his submissive twink and roughs him up as Adam moans louder and louder. At this point the hall was used to it since it happened at least once a night.

Kellen has had such troubles keeping his grades up since receiving a warning from financial aid threatening to kick him out. He's still on the search for a nerd to do his homework, but at least he found Adam. Adam could take anything from Sir as long as Sir didn't leave a mark. Adam made sure he set his boundaries, after all, they both should know respect always goes both ways.

[coyotes-rules-of-change]

There's no saying where or when a straight guy can catch this curse—it really can come from anywhere at any time and from that moment on, the curse lies dormant inside the hetero until it's activated.

Those moments when you're with your bros and you're just that little bit—maybe it's a joke, or an instant of curiosity, or a stirring of repressed urge... turns out, if you don't say, "No Homo" you really are at risk of catching those "faggy feelings."

These two were flexing away for a selfie and both ended up, naturally, rather chubbed up. A passing glance from each and a moment of genuine curiosity twisted fate so that these bros are about to become insatiable fuckbuddies. Go ahead, bro; grab your bros shaft. He wants it more and more with each passing second—and so do you.

[coyotes-rules-of-change]

Another day of work, another late night. You find yourself walking home on a Friday night—a middle aged office worker mixed in with the bar hoppers. You'd love to join them... but you're just too tired. You're heading straight back to your studio apartment and you'll be asleep within the hour.

A sound emerges from an alleyway. It takes your brain a moment to register the words spoken by the muscular suited man to register in your brain.

"Working late, huh?" The words materialized from the bass tones that drew your attention to the man in the first place.

The words hit and for some reason leave you a little dizzy... you really are tired... you really need to get home... get to bed...

You teeter and stumble and end up catching yourself on the wall. You're getting hot now too. Maybe you're catching a quick-onset fever. You aren't thinking much right now, but one thought filters through—get your jacket off. You're just so hot, so constricted, so bound up in clothes. You strip it off in your fog—it's a struggle but once the jacket manages to fall to the ground, you feel the relief of the cold open air on your skin. Your exposed torso—

Wait, did you take off your shirt too? You barely noticed, man you were still so dizzy and foggy and hazy and... god that cold air felt good. You'd never expose your pudgy, overworked, aged body like this, but you didn't care right now. You liked how it felt. Freeing, cooling... empowering... it turned you on...

It really turned you on...

You were chubbing up...

No, you were hard. Really hard.

You are just suddenly so incredibly horny.

But you love showing off your young, muscled body. You get a little weak in the knees—you really need to get off soon—and lean back against the alley wall. You turn to the hot daddy business man in front of you. Oh yeah, he asked a question, you should answer.

"Mmmph, yes I am Boss... and I'm ready to work all night."

[coyotes-rules-of-change]

Part 1 — Kellan

"What the fuck is going on!?"

Exasperated, confused, enraged; Kellen had yet again opened the door to a highly unusual sight that he'd now seen again and again.

Kellen was a quintessential college jock: star football player in high school transposed straight into star player on the college team garnished by hefty scholarships and an open road of easy classes paved straight to a degree. Except despite this, Kellen and his unwavering focus on the field and the gym still found himself with grades low enough to threaten his sports scholarship.

The day he had that meeting with financial aid, he left with a righteous fury—there is no way in hell that the school would boot their star player. A meeting with the coaches later that night sent the clear message that they wouldn't hesitate if he couldn't get his shit together. And thus, Kellen turned toward the age-old stereotype: the jock is once again out on the hunt for a nerd who will submit and do the jock's homework.

Except in this case, the jock has opened the door to the nerd's room to collect his daily supply and found a naked jock on the bed staring at a laptop. This was the fifth time Kellen had encountered something like this. Four nerds before this had all become dumbed-down, muscled stereotypes who all ultimately proved to be useless to him.

At this point it was all but confirmed: every nerd he'd manage to get to do his homework would become useless himbos, and he had no idea how that could have happened.

[coyotes-rules-of-change]

Author's Note: A version with photos is linked below. Scroll down—if that is what you desire.

Uh oh. It's getting pretty hard isn't it...

Get it? Hard? Because your cock is getting so hard and I bet it's getting harder and harder to keep yourself from touching it.

I mean, if I'm giving you the hot muscular body and the confidence and charisma for you to shake loose the bonds of your rise through the ranks but you can't get it without a cost, or at least a trial. Frankly in transformation circles, the rule is common: wanna keep your brains? You don't get to cum for 24 hours while the magic of the transformation... "cures."

I guess I didn't tell you how hard it would become. And the willpower you've gotta wield to keep those precious smarts in your head is drawing thinner and thinner as it gets harder and harder.

I gotta be honest, you're doing so well even though it's so hard. You have just a half an hour left—thirty minutes before you can cum. Thirty minutes and you don't have to worry any more. I believe in you; it's not that long, it's not that hard, you can wait for that sweet release. Even though the time seems to slow, even though the pleasure builds... you can keep your hands off that long hard—

Oh dear. It got to be too much, didn't it. You thought a quick graze, a light touch, the briefest of moments would release the pressure and keep you going. You felt that jolt, that hot flash, that pulse of pleasure— no! It's too hard. It's too long. It just feels too good...

...but it helped. It bought you another minute. It's only... twenty three minutes now... so you could try it again...

Feel the wave of pleasure course through you as you give it a rub, two rubs, thr— no. That's enough... let it settle, let it wane, let it swell again, and another three minutes gone.

You can touch it again—once, twice, three times. You let the wave flow through your body—cloud your mind, settle. Two minutes gone.

And rub again, swell, relief, wane.

And rub again, swell, relief, wane.

And rub again, and again, and again.

It's so hard. It's so long. It feels so good, but the only way to keep it at bay is to give in just enough, rub just slowly enough, release only a little of that pleasure as time stretches longer. The last minutes slow to an agonizing fog of horniness as you keep yourself edging on the precipice of release without crossing over. Closer and closer to climax until...

Though the fog, you hear your alarm. Time was up. Release. Relief. You did it. You have the body, the charisma, and the brains, and now you could afford to take it all in. You could finally take that new dick through it's first test drive. It was time to...

Release, relief, pleasure. It overtakes your body and mind all in one instant. It pulses through you in waves and clouds your mind in horniness while cum shoots, and shoots, and shoots. out of your cock. You long cock. Your hard cock. Your beautiful cock. The pleasure recedes and your muscles relax and your mind settles... and clears... and empties in the post climactic bliss. It just felt so good. You've never felt so good. You sat for a moment... a minute? an hour?

You knew you wanted something... a job... a position... something else? But all you could process was that orgasm... your throbbing cock... your pleasure... your horniness swelling back into you. It gets harder. It gets longer. It just keeps feeling better and better...

————————

I suppose I should explain... That common rule: you can't cum or you'll ejaculate your brains outta your dick—that's not a real thing. No, unfortunately for him, the best way for him to have kept his smarts was to cum immediately. I've never had anyone make it the full day, though. He is so horny, he doesn't have room in that braincell of his to process much more. He's gonna be rubbing that cock of his all-day, everyday. Aww, seems kinda pathetic really. Maybe I'll send in a few guys to suck his dick and make sure he drinks some water or something. And maybe help him set up a Grindr and an OnlyFans.

Hey all, This story had pictures but certain censors found them to be to dangerous for this community—you know, erotic content. Blah blah blah. As a result I've taken a step common in the community and created a Blogspot.

[coyotes-rules-of-change]

"What the—

That's not a mirror. I don't have that muscle, those arms... that ass... I don't—

huh huh huh... i look fucken hot

i love my himbo muscle"

[coyotes-rules-of-change]

In these transformation stories, it always seems like the nerd insults the jock motivated by disgust, or repulsion, or envy. But when he ran into the pack of jocks at the grocery store and called them cocky assholes, he had much more unique motivations. It seems—despite the magic employed to rewrite reality and keep things secret—that this nerd had still managed to notice what should be impossible to notice: every time this group of jocks got ridiculed by some elitist intellectual, that know-it-all seemed to vanish and the brutish clique would gain a bro.

This nerd, like many before him, headed straight for the bathroom the moment he felt his joints begin to ache and his thoughts begin to cloud. But unlike the other brainiacs before him, he was running to the closest mirror to witness the reformation of his new persona. He was only able to witness the affects of my curse on that group of jocks because of his deep, passionate desire to be one of them. Unlike the other nerds, he would have no moment of panic, no racing thoughts unable to process the horror, no mental bargaining as the new identity asserted itself, and no moment of resignation as it took over.

Instead he relished in his brightening skin, his squaring jaw, his increasing height, his shifting proportions... The changes were just beginning and already he was taking out his phone to take his first mirror selfies. He felt his thoughts slow, his priorities shift, and he could think more clearly than ever before allowing him to focus on himself and his hotter visage.

For the first time, he lifts his shirt presenting his new abs and pecs to the world. A cocky grin spreads across his face as he begins to fathom the extent of his newly debuted attractiveness.

He took off his shirt to show off his full torso and was about to take another series of selfies before he's hit by a wave of pleasure emanating from his pants. He lets out a moan that settles into a new baritone register and an unexpected fog of horniness settles on his brain that would prove to be permanent. He feels his cock start to snake down his leg as he enters the second phase of the transformation.

The nerds before him entered this second stage of rapidly swelling muscle struck by fear and still trying to cling to their former selves, but he just looked himself straight in the eye and took his new impulses on their inaugural run—he was finally worthy of uttering the word he'd always wanted to say. The transformation still raging, he lets out a dumb chuckle:

"Huh huh huh... bro."

[coyotes-rules-of-change]

I, like many I'm sure, love the first day of a cruise. People are walking around—most of them taking in the ship and its many offering and I suppose in a way, so am I.

I always find myself heading up to the higher decks with the pools and the open air where I can take in the port city on one side and look out towards the water on the other—though I must confess I'm often using the vantage point as a means of scouting... other views.

While I'm scanning the pool area, I feel a tap on my shoulder followed by a soft-spoken "excuse me." I turn and see a shy, slender guy wearing skinny jeans and a hoodie despite the pleasant temperature and mild breeze.

"Would you mind taking my picture?" he asked, awkwardly, "My girlfriend is dealing with guest services. She told me to go explore the ship while she dealt with the problem with our room. She knows how much I enjoy taking in the city skyline and we both figured I wouldn't be much help since I'm not very... social."

"Yeah, sure! I'd love to." I can be selfless from time to time, so of course I'd help this sweet fellow.

"Oh, great!" He brightened up a bit. "My girlfriend always tells me I never have enough pictures of myself. This will be a tiny surprise for her."

He hands me his phone. I briefly scan the immediate area to decide on the angle and set-up of the shot and then direct him to the railing. "It was pretty nice of her to wait in line without you. You two must be the cutest couple."

"Yeah," he breaks out into a smile, "I really couldn't ask for a better girlfriend." The slightly dreamy look on his face presents the perfect opportunity; I tap his phone screen and take the photo.

*click*

If you know me by now, you'd know that I really don't tend to be selfless. But just this once? Nah, I'm on vacation. Instead of capturing the image of a geeky lad concealed by a hoodie bearing the smile inspired by the thought of his devoted girlfriend I snapped a photo of a confident guy advertising his muscled body along side the many other first-day cruise amenities. He even made sure to wear pink and blue swim trunks to make sure onlookers knew he swung both ways.

"Like the view up here?" He gestures broadly making sure I know he's not talking about the skyline.

"You're always going to get the best view from the lido deck." I briefly question my decision to respond with wit. He might not be the best at subtlety... anymore.

"Huh huh. Nah, bro. The view is way better from my room."

I guess he understood just fine.

"The view is great from here, but I'd love to see how much better it is in your room... maybe even on your balcony."

"Huh huh huh! No way dude!" His laugh was loud and unabashed. No one would ever thing him timid again.

I lean in and kiss him. He reaches around and grabs my ass in full view of the top decks. I grab his cock and massage it a bit. I forgot to include that in the photo... but I make sure not to break the kiss until it's nice and large.

"Ah man, I gotta get off soon. I'm just so fucking horny."

The guy has no shame. An older couple nearby hears and shoot a heavily disapproving glance our way. I don't give a shit though. If they complain I'll just turn them into a pair of twinks or something.

In the lower decks of the ship—just off the atrium, a girl waits in the guest services line. She has no idea how the cruise company could just double book her in a room with some loud, cocky douche. There was no way she was going to spend the cruise with this brash asshole when she thought she booked a single. Still... he was kinda hot...

I'll make sure she's upgraded to a suite or something... she'll have a lovely vacation by herself.