dumberswitch
dumberswitch
Dumber Switch
653 posts
Male mental TFs; 18+ only; NSFW; all pictures presumed to be 18+
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dumberswitch · 7 days ago
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Everything was crumbling into sand, from the clothes he wore to the dorm room around him to the book in his hand, shrinking thinner as its pages spilled away. And with each page lost, it was like another thought crumbling inside his brain: his intellect, his inhibitions, his identity itself worn down and washed away like a sandcastle in the time. The new self that remained was like wet sand in the surf's wake: smoothed out, simplified. Sunny as his newly blonde hair and slick as his sweaty new abs. A soft mind, a hard body, and an even harder bulge in his Speedo.
The newly forged himbo blinked at the last remaining page of the book in his hand as it flickered into a flyer for a beachfront party, oh-so-slowly processed what the words said - and then laughed, bright and easy and empty, as he let go and let it drop along with the last of his nerdy old life. "Party? Dude, the party's wherever I am!"
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dumberswitch · 14 days ago
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FML: Stud
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Please, somebody has got to help me. I can’t keep on like this. This isn’t me, this isn’t what I want. I don’t want to just keep fucking guys like this. I’m so tired, I need a break at least.
It all happened so quickly. On moment, I was out at a club, partying with my bros, hitting on some girls. I was on the top of the world. Then, I felt a prick on my neck. I woke up here in nothing but these tight shorts. I couldn’t think straight as they started bringing these men in…
Oh no, they’re bringing another one in. I can’t…
Hey, sir. Please, I don’t think I can do another today! Please, stop th…
God damn it. Alright, focus. Focus. Don’t think about him. Don’t think about his body. I can do this. 3…2…1…turn:
Hey man, listen, any chance we can reschedule all this? Uhuh, yeah. Yeah, I know you paid good money for this. I’m just… just…
Focus.
Yeah, I’m just a bit worn out. God he’s not making this easy. At least he is kinda cute in a small way… NO. Focus. Yeah, I just want to make sure…uhhh… yeah make sure I’m ready. I don’t want to accidentally hurt your small body… small… why are you so small br…bro?
No no no- Yeah bro, you’re just… so thin. Hardly any muscle on you. Yeah, you like all this? Stop flexing, stop flexing. Stop… resist… stop… stop… resisting… I need. I need him big. I need to plant my seed. I need to grow my bro. Bruh, dude come here. Fuck yeah, you’re just ready to grow bro? Let’s get my cock pumping you up.
A stud’s job is to fuck and make more studs.
A stud’s job is to fill men with muscle.
A stud’s job is to plant his seed and grow a stable of stud bros.
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dumberswitch · 17 days ago
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"I'm sorry, I don't think you're a good fit for this position. But I do have something in mind for you..."
The words hung in the air with a certain weight—calm, final, but not unkind. The sunlight streaming in through the high windows of the interview room had mellowed into a golden sheen, the late-afternoon kind that slanted just right to cast long, sleepy shadows on the table. Bradley Sutter sat across from Mr. Renshaw, arms folded tightly, unsure how to respond.
Bradley had worn his best suit for this meeting. Charcoal gray, subtle pinstripes, a conservative tie. His résumé was impeccable. MBA from Wharton, two internships, a promising stint in analytics at a mid-tier consultancy. His shoes were still shining with this morning’s polish, though he found himself shifting his feet uncomfortably in them. For some reason, they felt tighter than they had during the walk in.
“Something else?” Bradley asked, puzzled. “I was hoping to discuss the strategic operations role. I thought the interview was going well.”
Mr. Renshaw offered a small, practiced smile—the kind people in corporate offices give just before redirecting your entire trajectory. “You’re not quite what we’re looking for in strategy,” he said evenly, “but I think you’ve been miscategorized. You strike me as someone... with practical strengths.”
Bradley frowned. “I’m not sure I follow.”
Renshaw leaned back slightly in his chair, fingers steepled. “Bradley, when you’re not analyzing spreadsheets or preparing slide decks, what do you enjoy?”
Bradley hesitated. “I—I mean, I read. Hike. Occasionally work on my car. But that’s just a hobby.”
“Interesting,” Renshaw said, glancing at the papers in front of him as though reviewing something more fundamental than a résumé. “I don’t think it is just a hobby. You’re a hands-on man. Aren’t you?”
There was a dull warmth spreading across Bradley’s chest, almost like sunlight on skin. He shifted in his seat again, loosening his tie—which he realized wasn’t there anymore. His collar was open, the shirt beneath rougher than it should have been. He looked down and furrowed his brow. Was he... wearing a different shirt?
The fabric wasn’t crisp cotton anymore. It had the weight and stiffness of denim, with a darker patch where something—maybe oil?—had soaked in long ago. His fingers, when they brushed it, felt broader, rougher. They left faint smudges. Grease? The nails were darker than he remembered, edges square and flat. They looked... used.
“I—I don’t think I’m the guy you’re looking for,” he said, voice faltering slightly. It sounded different in his ears. Lower. A little hoarse.
“But I do,” Renshaw replied calmly. “Let’s talk about your work ethic. You’re always the first one in, and you don’t clock out until the last tool’s back in the drawer. That’s been your pattern for years, hasn’t it?”
Bradley opened his mouth to disagree, but nothing came out right away. Instead, he gave a slow nod. “Well... yeah, I s’pose I like seein’ a job through,” he said, the syllables dragging slightly, as if coated in dust. “Ain’t no sense quittin’ when you’re half done.”
A flicker of confusion crossed his face, but faded almost instantly. His back ached faintly, like he’d spent all day on his feet. His shoulders were tight, heavy with the sort of tension that didn’t come from spreadsheets. The sleeves of his shirt—no, coverall, he now realized—were rolled up just below the elbows, exposing thick forearms dusted with dark hair. His skin had deepened a shade, sun-worn and marked with years of small nicks and oil stains that wouldn’t scrub out no matter how hard he tried.
“I can tell you take pride in what you do,” Renshaw said, glancing at his notes again. “The guys downstairs say there’s no one better with diesel diagnostics. That true?”
Bradley—no, Josh—scratched at his chin thoughtfully, the rasp of callused fingers on stubble filling the space between them. “Well, I don’t like to brag,” he muttered in a low drawl, “but yeah, I got a feel for it. You listen close, you can tell a clogged injector from a slipped timing belt.”
“Of course,” said Renshaw. “You always had good ears.”
Josh nodded slowly. His neck was thicker now, the line of his jaw broader and more square. His cheeks carried the shadow of a beard that never quite disappeared, even when he shaved. A ring of sweat had formed beneath his collar, soaking into the worn fabric of his coveralls. His name was stitched on the chest in red thread over white: Josh Mallory.
Renshaw didn’t seem surprised to see it. “Isn’t that right, Josh?”
Josh blinked once, then broke into a grin. “Yeah,” he said, chuckling. “Sure is.”
He reached up to run a hand through his hair—it was cropped close now, a simple, no-nonsense cut. His fingers caught briefly on the grit of the day’s work still lingering along his scalp. The faint scent of motor oil, sweat, and clean steel lingered on his skin. He didn’t mind it. Never had.
“Well,” Renshaw said, standing and collecting the paperwork into a folder labeled Employee Check-In. “That’s all I needed. Thanks for making time this afternoon.”
Josh pushed back his chair and stood, his broad chest stretching the front of his uniform slightly. “No problem. Let me know if y’all need anything else.”
He shook Renshaw’s hand—strong grip, firm and practiced—and turned to leave.
“Oh, and Josh?” Renshaw said, just before he opened the door.
“Yeah?”
“You’ve been with us for over ten years now. Hell of a run.”
Josh gave a slight laugh, the corner of his mouth curling with pride. “Damn right. Ain’t no place I’d rather be.”
And just like that, he stepped out into the hallway, the muffled clanks of tools and distant engine rumbles filtering up from below. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead. A few younger guys passed by, nodding as they saw him.
“Afternoon, Mallory.”
“Boss was lookin’ for ya earlier.”
Josh nodded. “Just had a quick check-in upstairs. I’m headed back now.”
They didn’t question it. Why would they? Everyone knew Josh Mallory had been here forever.
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dumberswitch · 19 days ago
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Am due a haircut soon n I kinda wanna get smth to make my trackies and overall chav look more convincing - have you got any recs? Maybe I can use the picture you choose as a reference to the barber next time I go in…?
Sure. We gotta choose something appropriate looking, something that really lets people know that you’re a proper moron. Let’s see what our options are…
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A high fade. The classic. It really screams ‘LAD’, especially in the way it highlights your thick skull and big ears. While you’re there, you might as well ask them to shave a football outline into the small oval island of hair you have left. After all, footie will pretty much define your entire identity now. With this brutal cut there will be no doubt about your chav credentials. Or your pea sized intelligence. Pair it with some cheap earings and a shaved eyebrow and you’re sorted as fuck. Just be prepared for people to look and judge you for the immature idiot you are. But don’t worry, you’ll find people that are more your…speed.
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What’s next? A perm. This is for the pretty boy, the entitled rich kid. A sufferer of main character syndrome. The fuckboy whose credit card is linked to their parent’s bank account . They have the looks, attitude and selfishness to be a prime findom master. A walking thirst trap. Why work a single second when gooners online will happily pay you to openly humiliate them. And you need their money, need it to fuel your gear obsession. You’re a brand whore, a corporate stooge, easily fixated by new shiny fits that you just have to cop. You like to show off, you like the constant attention. Sure you have to post humiliating feet pics to thousands of followers, but you’re better than everyone else and your perfectly styled and permed hair is proof of that.
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This one’s not for the faint of heart. The buzz cut. If you’re just about ready to give up on academic pursuits and are ready to embrace a simple life working at a construction site or as a rubbish collector; this is the trim for you. To ask your barber to just take it all, your hair, your smarts, your charm. To surrender to being a blunt and ill mannered scally. Working class. A real man. Harsh just like the top your shiny head. Manual labour is your one true calling. The sight of dust and chalk, cement and mud fills your day. As does the inside of a porta potty. You don’t need looks, or deep thoughts. You don’t need pretty hair, or long words. You don’t need worries or ideals. You just need to work. To be the skinhead you were always meant to be.
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And finally, this one seems to be popular. The french crop. The crop tells me you’re a sheep, easily swayed by trends. Chronically online with tik tok brainrot. You can’t think for yourself, instead you just follow what everyone else does. You need to feel like you belong, to be validated by peers. The fact that the crop makes you look like an idiot, that it was cut using a bowl doesn’t matter. The same with what you wear, how you talk, the slang you adopt. If that means acting like some airheaded wanker from jersey shore, it doesn’t matter. You copy everyone else. What popular influencers on socials are doing, that’s the height of style. They’re your role models in life. More and more you become vapid and shallow. You don’t really have a personality anymore, everything is a facade. You’re a fake, a poser. People like chavs. So now you play the chav boy. The lad whose whole identity is nothing more than a stereotype. Lucky for you, guys on grindr love chavs. They particularly love chavs who have something to prove, are eager to please. And you please very well when cocks are stuffing your fat arse.
What? Which one suits me? Don’t worry about me, let’s get you sorted mate. So then, what is the right cut for you? You know what, never mind the barber - i’ll choose for you.
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dumberswitch · 27 days ago
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Jock Juice! 
The taste sensation, beefing the nation! Illustrator available for hire jamesnewland.co.uk | Twitter | Patreon | COMMISSION |Shop
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dumberswitch · 27 days ago
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InstaBEEF
I’m on a muscle transformation hype right now and in need of some muscle growth ideas. How would you go about insta-beefing someone?  Illustrator available for hire jamesnewland.co.uk | Twitter | Patreon | COMMISSION | Shop
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dumberswitch · 29 days ago
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The Do-Over
This is one of my favorite stories that I've done, so much so that I've been considering bringing this idea back and turning it into a series for Patreon. I hope you enjoy!
As Arthur Saunders peered down towards his kitchen counter, the newly-minted 29-year-old scratched his head as he attempted to understand what he was looking at. It was earlier in the day when he first encountered the medium-sized box as he accidentally kicked it upon exiting his apartment. Despite his own curiosity about the box given the fact that there was no label or return address listed, the man had several birthday-related errands to run and was forced to quickly place the box inside before leaving for the majority of the day.
So despite his slight tiredness upon returning back to his apartment after a lively day of various celebrations with friends and family, Arthur’s mind began to continuously ponder not only what was inside the box but who had sent it. Based on the lack of postage or a shipping label, it was clear that someone had physically dropped the package off on his doorstep. But who would do that and not even knock on the door or attempt to speak with the man?
Although Arthur believed his curiosity was already at its peak, he soon realized that this was not true as he cut open the box and pulled back the cardboard flaps. Sitting in the box was a huge red button with the words “DO-OVER” painted white on the top, which instantly puzzled the young man. Although he assumed the button was all that was inside the box given the slew of packing peanuts that filled most of the box, Arthur gripped onto the button and found that a full contraption was unearthed upon lifting it up and out of the box.
As he set it down on the kitchen counter, Arthur spent a few minutes observing the bizarre item. Although the bright red button was a prominent feature, it was connected to a jet black base that was rounded and nearly double the size of the large button. On the base itself, Arthur discovered two large rectangular LED screens that sat both above and below the large button. Although he could tell that they were meant to display some sort of text or visual, the dull haze of the screen revealed that there was no power to the contraction… at least not yet.
Intrigued about what exactly the device did, Arthur found himself lifting it up and inspecting it in search of a power button. But alas, no such discovery was found by the man, which caused him to set the item down and direct his focus towards the huge box. In hopes of finding some sort of instructions, the man plunged his hand deep into the sea of packing peanuts and aimlessly felt around.
Eventually, the man was able to pick up on the slip of paper that was included in the box and fished it out. Upon grabbing it and holding it out in front of him, the curious man narrowed his eyes as he hoped the paper would provide some much needed explanations.
Dear User, Congratulations on being selected to test out the brand new Do-Over Program. Upon being submitted by an acquaintance of yours, our company has been slowly observing you and your actions for the past few months. Upon noticing your general feelings of stagnation and confusion over your life, we’ve deemed you to be a perfect fit for the program. The device you’ve been provided will allow you the opportunity to do-over your life, which will cause every aspect of your personality to be randomized in hopes of providing you an entirely new and positive outlook towards life. Although such a concept may seem scary, please know that none of these changes are permanent (as long as you don’t wish for them to be). With the perks of being chosen for this program though, our only ask is that for our own research that you wait at least 24 hours before attempting another do-over.  In regards to completing the program, there are two possible options. Firstly, you can continue to explore and test out various different lives and identities until you find one that seems perfect to you. Upon doing so, you can then lock the new identity in, which will cause the device to be retrieved and sent to the next participant in the program. If you do not accept any of the new lives created by the program, there is also another option that will return you to your original life. With this option though, we only recommend it if you have discovered that the entire process has caused you to have a renewed interest and sense of determination of how to move forward. If you choose this option, please contact S-C Enterprises via the provided information and we will send an employee to retrieve the device. Regardless of the end result you choose, we hope you have an enjoyable experience as a part of our program. Sincerely, The Do-Over Team
Upon finishing reading the note and setting the piece of paper onto the kitchen countertop, Arthur found that he now had more questions than he had answers. Who had submitted him to this program, and what did the company mean by saying they’ve been observing him for months? Surely they weren’t actually watching him and observing his online behaviors, right? 
Despite being significantly unnerved by the contents of the note, Arthur couldn’t deny that his curiosity was piqued by the reveal of what the contraption sitting on his counter was capable of. The premise sounded like something straight out of a science fiction 80s film, but it felt surprisingly pertinent to him. 
Although he hated to give props to a group that was apparently stalking him both in person and virtually, it was true that Arthur wasn’t quite happy with the cards he had been dealt with in life. When he first decided to go to university, the concept of being a teacher and helping mold young minds seemed like a rewarding career path. But after several years of actually being a teacher in a posh all-male school, the dull monotony of lessons along with the disrespect from both his students and fellow faculty members left him feeling like a husk of himself. With the constant influx of assignments to mark along with having to create lesson plans, Arthur found that even his own free time in his flat was devoted to his career… which only made him loathe it further.
To make matters worse, the realization that he was now only one year from reaching his 30s left the teacher feeling quite depressed and anxious. Although he knew that he personally loathed his current career choice, the crushing reality of his ever-increasing age meant that it was becoming incredibly unlikely for a last minute career change. Even worse, he had so many other hobbies and dreams that he couldn’t even mentally envision what to do with his life. In his free time, the man loved to write short stories or play video games, but the likelihood of becoming a famous author or Twitch streamer seemed impossible. Overall, his life left him feeling trapped and utterly helpless. 
As he realized just how correct the letter’s assumption of his unhappiness was, Arthur’s eyes soon found themselves peering down to the blocky white text of “DO OVER” plastered across the top of the red button. Although he remained significantly unnerved by the contents of the letter, the bold white letters on the button had an inversely calming effect. Closing his eyes, the text flashed through his mind like an opening night marquee and thus caused the man to envision the endless amount of possibilities that he could have taken with his life. Before he could even comprehend what he was doing, the man reached a hand out and quickly slammed it down onto the bright red button.
The loud noise suddenly emitting from the contraption caused Arthur to suddenly open his eyes and look down in slight fear. As a sound similar to gears whirling seemed to emit from the inner mechanism of the device, Arthur let out a soft scream and jumped in shock as the speed of the noise increased until a booming pop filled his flat. 
Soundtracked by the noise, Arthur watched as a small knob suddenly popped out and revealed itself on the left side of the device. It was perfectly in line with the rectangular LED screen, which left the man curious about if the knob was somehow linked to the screen. Just as he began to reach out to mess with the knob though, both screens suddenly became active and lost their dim and dull display. 
In awe, Arthur watched as the screens finally began to display text. At first, it was just the top screen that went into action, displaying a simple welcome message that addressed him by his full legal name. But upon displaying that message for a few seconds, the screen erased the text as a slew of text emerged. As Arthur watched each statistic display itself though, he quickly realized that it was somehow perfectly displaying accurate descriptions of himself. 
Name: Arthur Saunders Age: 29 Height: 6’1” Weight: 95kg  Physique: Average  Ethnicity: Caucasian Nationality: British
Before Arthur could even attempt to formulate a reaction to what he was seeing, his eyes watched as the bottom screen suddenly roared to life. Looking down to see what was happening, he watched as letter by letter a word was forming. Although he soon figured out what it would say by the fifth letter, Arthur still watched with intense curiosity as the word Randomizing manifested. Just as the “g” finally appeared to finish the word though, Arthur gasped in shock as a loud and shrill whirring noise began to emit from the device.
Unlike the metallic whirring sound that was due to the gears inside the device changing, this whirling was undoubtedly electronic due to its frequency. Out of nowhere, the noise spiked to ear-numbing levels and forced Arthur to grit his teeth while lifting his arms up to shield his ears.
For a few moments the sharp noise maintained its maximum intensity, which continued to just assault Arthur’s eardrums to the point where the usually non-religion man was mentally begging for salvation. To his relief and utter shock, his prayers seemed to work as the noise suddenly halted and caused the entire room to go quiet (besides the intense ringing that was still rattling in Arthur’s ears). 
Unfortunately though, this tranquility didn’t last for long as a bright white light suddenly erupted from the device and completely engulfed Arthur’s modest flat. Frantic to not be blinded by the intense assault on his vision, the man pulled his hands away from his ears expeditiously and used them to cover his eyes. 
Although he had assumed that the assault on his senses had been utterly affected, it seemed this wasn’t the case as Arthur could feel a dull vibration ripple across his entire body. Upon gritting his teeth, the man was left with nothing to do but ride out this uncomfortable sensation that left him feeling as though he was viciously drifting through the ocean.
After what felt like hours, the bizarre sensations riddling Arthur’s body suddenly ceased. Although he was unsure of whether the blinding light that had filled his flat had finally stopped, the confusion and fear over what he had been feeling caused him to take a risk and slowly part his eyelids. Given the blinding light and the deep vibrations that had wrecked his body resembled that of a bomb, Arthur had assumed that his flat would be in some state of disarray. But as he looked around, everything appeared to be exactly like he had last seen it from the slight piling of dirty dishes in his sink to the device that remained on the kitchen counter.
Such a reveal was confusing to Arthur, which caused him to rub his temples and attempt to figure out what exactly he had just experienced. “What the hell wa-” he began, his words suddenly stopped dead in their tracks. As his eyes bulged out in shock, the man lifted a hand up and allowed his fingers to graze along his Adam’s apple. For 29 years of his life, Arthur had always had an average and very clearly British accent when he spoke. But as he talked now, it quickly became clear that it wasn’t the case. Instead, the words that came out of his mouth resembled a deep boom that echoed through his flat and unequivocally American. “Is, is that my voice?” he asked aloud to no one in particular, his body shivering as he realized he wasn’t insane in his first assumption. He truly did sound just like the men he had seen in countless American blockbuster films.
Just as he was on the verge of becoming incredibly panicked over the new voice in which he spoke with, a loud ding suddenly rang out from the device and caused Arthur to look down. Upon doing so, he watched as the bottom screen began to display text. As he watched each line of text display itself, Arthur quickly realized that it was the same stats as the top screen, although they were now being listed in reverse order and displaying very different information.
Nationality: American Ethnicity: Caucasian
Although Arthur felt proud of himself for assuming that his assumption of his new accent was correct, there was also a lingering sense of panic as he finally took a moment to realize that the device was truly randomizing his body and turning him into someone else. With the concept of having a new life to try out now validated, the man looked down with cautious excitement as the next few lines of text began to appear.
Physique: Muscular Weight: 163 lbs Height: 5’11”
Upon watching those three lines of text appear on the screen, a loud gasp instantly escaped from the man’s mouth as he couldn’t believe the concept of becoming incredibly muscular. Although he had a moderate amount of muscle in his arms and legs, it was often clear that he was an average man by the slightly pudgy stomach that was small yet still made itself present in any shirt he wore. It was always a place of insecurity for the man, so when he looked down at himself and noticed that his stomach was completely flat, a relieved smirk manifested onto his face. This smirk quickly turned into a cocky grin though as he reached his hand underneath his shirt and ended up discovering a well-defined six-pack that left his hands feeling as though they were traveling down a brick road.
Despite wanting so badly to explore more of his new physique, Arthur forced himself to stop as the final two lines of text revealed itself to him.
Age: 23 Name: Michael Chad Johnson
Upon learning of his new name and age, the realization that he was now someone entirely different from Arthur Saunders set in. In his mind, it was one thing to gain a muscular physique and another to become an entirely different person. As such, the concept was both incredibly exciting yet also undoubtedly nerve-wracking. In hopes of calming this anxiety though, the man took a moment to remind himself that this could all be temporary and that caused him to take a deep breath and ground himself once more.
With the last of the text now displayed, Arthur wasted no time rushing away from the kitchen counter in hopes of getting a better look at himself. The man made a direct bee-line towards his bathroom, quickly flipping on the light and shutting the door behind him. As the lights above the mirror flicked to life, Arthur felt butterflies in his stomach as he found himself looking at his new visage. He looked so hot!
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The man couldn’t help but smile as he looked into the mirror and admired the new features that his face possessed. Not only was he in possession of a well-angled jawline, but his blue eyes were incredibly inviting and at odds with just how classically masculine and intimidating he looked. Although it was only 6 years of age regression, Arthur quickly picked up on some noticeable changes. Given the fact that his new age made it so he wasn’t up late every night planning class lessons and grading papers, there was no indication of the slight wrinkles that had recently begun adorning his face. On top of this, the man also picked up on how his complexion had completely altered, shifting away from a slightly pasty shade to something that was much more well-maintained and tanned.
Eager to see more of his new physique, the man wasted no time taking his shirt off and throwing it aside. Upon turning back to stare into the mirror, Arthur was greeted to the glorious sight of a ripped physique. Although he was momentarily upset by the loss of chest hair that adorned his chest and down his stomach, he quickly accepted the change as he traded it in for an impressive six pack and pair of pecs. 
Not wanting the remaining clothes to hinder his exploration of his new physique, Arthur quickly dropped his pants until all that he was dressed in was a pair of underwear. For several minutes the man was transfixed as he tensed his leg muscles to admire his thick thigh and calf muscles. As he turned around and craned his neck back to the mirror, the man was also relieved to discover he had a prominent yet firm ass now. 
But while all of those aspects were exciting, the sudden strain against the fabric of his underwear caused Arthur to take note of his manhood. While he was admiring himself, he had understandably gotten quite turned on to the point where a rock hard cock was struggling to remain concealed. Unlike his former 5-incher, the manhood he was now in possession of had to be at least 7 inches and twice as thick. As he gripped onto it and gave a slight squeeze, the man moaned as he began to leak pre-cum. This is a dream come true, he thought, allowing one hand to caress his cock while the other flexed and squeezed on his new physique.
So while Arthur was having a blast admiring his new jock body, the device that remained unattended on the kitchen counter was continuing to move onto the next stage as text appeared on the top screen.
Stage Two: Location Alteration Current Location: United Kingdom Residence Style: Flat
Given Arthur’s new identity as an American, the second screen suddenly began to rapidly scroll through all 50 states to settle on his new home along with a list of different housing styles. After a good 15 seconds of bouncing between countless options, the device finally settled on two choices for the new Michael Chad Johnson.
New Location: Virginia Residence Style: Mobile Home
So while Arthur remained in a euphoric state exploring his new body, the man was unaware of the fact that he and his residence had been teleported to a vacant lot in a rural Virginia trailer park. Given the larger plot of land that he now called his own, the man’s flat began to expand and rearrange itself into an expanded rectangular shape. While the magic began to connect all of his piping and electricity to the plot of land, the interior of his new home was being redecorated to give a cozy Americana feel. Although a lot of the man’s original décor remained (such as the few shelves of superhero memorabilia that he had), it was condensed to allow an entire row of shelving to display vintage Americana style décor and signage.
By the time Arthur had finally exited the bathroom to return to the device, the changes to his new residence had finished and immediately threw the now-younger man for a loop. It was so bizarre to discover the new layout of his home as he attempted to navigate his way back to the kitchen. Throughout his journey to return to the device, Arthur also noticed the slew of blank picture frames that now hung off of his walls. It was a bizarre sight for the man to behold, especially as he knew that they would soon be filled with random new images as more of this Michael character’s backstory was created…
Upon returning to the kitchen counter, Arthur Saunders’ return was perfectly timed with the text of the device erasing as the next step in the process began. To his immediate interest, the next stage was revealed to be the announcement of both Arthur’s and “Michael’s” hobbies. Rather than just a text reveal though, the top screen of the device became much more visual as it was divided into three individual sections. As soon as the lines were finished dividing up the spaces, Arthur watched as each individual section began moving up and down. Watching each section rapidly spin up and down, it quickly became clear that the visual was supposed to be reminiscent of a slot machine. After a few more rotations around, each section finally stopped to lock in three emojis.
|🖊️|💪|🕹️|
To Arthur’s amusement, he saw these and immediately realized that they perfectly described his hobbies. Whenever he wasn’t hard at work grading papers or creating lesson plans, the man loved nothing more than writing, working out, or playing video games. Although he shouldn’t have been surprised about how accurate the device was given the magical abilities of it, he still found himself impressed that he could be narrowed down so specifically. 
Soon afterwards, the bottom screen adopted the same visual style and began to aimlessly spin. With intense curiosity, Arthur found himself bent over the counter and excitedly looking down to wonder what his new hobbies would be as Michael. One-by-one, the emojis that formed caused Arthur’s heart to flutter in a tizzy of intense joy.
|📱|💪|🎼|
Although he had no idea what the music emoji would entail, the visual of seeing a cell phone and a flexing emoji back to back left Arthur taking into account his hunky new physique and becoming excited about the concept of being a hunky influencer. While the magic quietly worked itself in the background for a few minutes though, the man began to ponder whether his educated guess was actually right as nothing seemed to be happening. But soon enough, his phone began to go absolutely haywire as a flood of notifications began to ring out and fill the room with an endless sea of dings.
Despite not being able to unlock the phone as it continued to ding and reveal endless notifications, the man’s lock screen was able to provide a decent amount of information as he saw these notifications coming from both Instagram and TikTok. With each like and comment notification flooding his phone, the man’s mind couldn’t help but wonder what his new social media content would be like.
Eventually Arthur was given the opportunity to explore his new social media as the notifications finally stopped after a few more minutes of notification spamming. To start things off he headed over to his Instagram to see what had become of his account. Upon doing so and heading to his account page, the man was flabbergasted to discover that his new account of michaelchad757 had nearly 100k followers. Given the fact that his former account only had 400 followers, the growth was monumental and left Arthur oddly feeling incredibly proud despite not actually being Michael.
Upon clicking on his most recent post, Arthur was immediately turned on by innate confidence that his new self displayed as he smirked for the camera and flexed his mighty biceps. Based on the comments underneath the post, it seemed that Arthur wasn’t in the minority in terms of how hot and bothered his flexing made people feel.
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After quickly scrolling through the rest of his post history and finding tons of flexing videos or thirst trap photos that showcased his ripped torso, Arthur was buzzing with excitement to see what sort of visual delights awaited him on TikTok. As such, the man quickly exited out of Instagram and switched over to the other app that had become overloaded with notifications. Upon doing so and heading to his account, Arthur was shocked to discover that his account there was even bigger than his Instagram. With over 250,000 followers and over 2.6 million likes, he was an undeniable TikTok star!
For the most part, his TikTok account was exactly what he expected: an endless slew of thirst traps where he cockily smirked on the camera before removing his shirt and flexing his muscles as a random song or sound soundtracked the video. As he continued to scroll through videos, he found that Michael had a favorite move - popping his pecs to the beat of any song that he used in the video. It was incredibly hypnotizing to watch his plump chest ripple and bounce to the song, which made more sense as to why he was able to amass such a huge following despite being the most vanilla of thirst traps. 
After scrolling through at least 20 videos of his new body doing the same sort of moves while stripping, Arthur found himself thrown for a loop when he came across a video of Michael doing something non-flexing related. Instead, he watched as his shirtless body stood in front of a mirror and instead began to freestyle rap rather than flex. Such a reveal was a huge shock to Arthur, especially as he himself wasn’t much of a rap guy. Pop and alternative were usually his favorite genres, so this new reveal was quite the 180 for the former teacher.
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Yet as he exited out of the app to explore his Apple Music, he found that the device had deleted all of his favorite tunes from his library and replaced them with unknown rap songs that Michael seemingly adored. Upon hitting shuffle, the first song that popped up seemed like an instant no to Arthur as the instrumental was a far cry from his usual tastes. But as the beat continued and rapping began, the transformed man found himself absentmindedly perfectly replicating the words and the flow of the rapper. 
Upon allowing the song to finish up, Arthur was somewhat amused by this new quirk. Although he loved his pop music more than anything, he found himself willing to embrace this new change as he viewed this new life as only temporary since he could just do another attempt with the device tomorrow. As soon as this thought crossed his mind, the device seemed to pick up on Arthur’s acceptance of his new situation as the screens lit up once more and began to move to the next stage.
The bright lights of the screen pulled Arthur away from his phone, which caused him to tuck it back into his pants pocket as he devoted his attention to the device once more. While doing so, Arthur quickly discovered that the next stage would be deemed the “mental changes”. As the text quickly deleted itself, the man watched as the screens evolved once more and became more visual. Instead of a slot machine graphic though, each screen revealed a large roulette wheel. 
In a snap, each roulette slot suddenly became adored with various text. While the top screen had a slew of numbers ranging from 70 to 130, the bottom screen’s slots were filled with text that listed various things such as “heterosexual”, “asexual”, “homosexual”. As he read the bottom screen, he was able to quickly figure out that the roulette wheel there was meant to decide his new sexuality. Given his status already as a bisexual, the device had already grayed out that option to make it clear that he was intended to have a new experience with Michael’s life. The top screen remained a mystery for a few minutes before the term “IQ” was suddenly manifested in the middle of the roulette wheel. 
Instantly, the concept of changing his IQ set off alarm bells in Arthur’s mind. The concept of gaining a new body was a dream come true, but the 50/50 chances of becoming either smarter or dumber than what he already was was a risk he was unwilling to take. As such, he tried his best to search for a way to skip the intended changes. But his entire search of the device revealed no skip button and he gulped in fear as the top wheel began to spin just as he set it back down on the counter.
For what felt like an eternity, the wheel continued to just aimlessly spin as if it was taunting Arthur for its impending choice. As such, Arthur’s entire body felt absolutely sluggish as the weight of the upcoming decision weighed on him. To both his relief and horror, the wheel finally decided to stop on the number 74. Given the fact that his IQ had seemingly been in the 100 range based on how that entire range had been grayed out, 74 was an extreme downgrade. 
Instantly, Arthur could feel the intense ripple effect of the IQ choice as his mind was seemingly drained of his knowledge. In no time, it quickly became clear that he wouldn’t be a teacher anymore as all of his university knowledge was sapped away and left him with a high school education. To make matters worse though, Arthur’s knowledge was further impacted as his low IQ made him a piss-poor student with a bare minimum vocabulary. Rather than easily passing all of his classes and graduating near the top of his class, Michael was an obvious idiot who struggled to stay focused on boring class lessons. As more of Arthur’s high school experiences were erased, they were soon replaced with memories that fit a total slacker like Michael. Given his new low attention span and dislike of boring classes, Arthur’s thoughts of high school brought forth new memories of being a total nuisance in class as he loved to disrupt the teacher or sit in the back making small talk with his other jock friends.
This life path as a total himbo also led to an unintended side effect as new memories emerged where Michael opted to go by his middle name of Chad. This was mainly due to the fact that everyone in his friend loved to taunt him and jokingly call him a “total Chad”. Given the fact that his middle name was actually Chad, he opted to forgo his ill-fitting first name and become the complete Chad fantasy that his best bros had heralded him.
Speaking of jocks, Chad’s high school experience made it so the only place he really excelled was in sports. Throughout his 4 years, he had played football, wrestling, and baseball and been the star player on each team. If it wasn’t for his barely passing grades, he could have gotten full-ride scholarships to countless major schools. But alas, the man found himself utterly bored with school by the time the last sports season of the year was over. Rather than wasting his time and waking up early to spend 7 “dull ass” hours trapped in a classroom, Chad dropped out a month before graduation and began to just work out at the gym 24/7. 
This decision had a serious impact on Chad’s life, causing him to get kicked out of his parents’ house and left to fend for himself. Given his jock physique, he ultimately found himself making money occasionally training some pudgy middle-aged loser who wanted to lose weight at his local gym. It was pathetic in Chad’s eyes to watch someone fail to do the bare minimum in terms of workouts, but he refused to make his thoughts known so he could continue making money. After nearly six months of crashing on the couch of his jockish best friends, the man had finally gained enough money to move into a mobile home in a nearby trailer park. 
By the time the second wheel had begun spinning, the light behind Arthur’s vibrant blue eyes had faded, leaving behind simply the dull stare of an idiot himbo. As such, the only reason why the man’s attention was kept by the device was the bright vibrant colors of the wheel as it widely spun around. This transfixion that the device kept on him was maintained even as the wheel stopped spinning and landed on the heterosexual option, so much so that he didn’t even object to such a reveal. 
“Fuck yeah bro, that’s lit!” Chad exclaimed, pumping a fist in the air as deep down Arthur finally submitted to become his ultimate straight jock fantasy. Upon closing his eyes and thinking about what it would be like to be a straight man, Arthur found himself envisioning a blonde bimbo on her knees and looking up with a lustful stare. While this fantasy was helping lead him into this new sexual orientation, the man’s cock was hardening as his memories of love and relationships were altering. 
Rather than being attracted to jocks like his best bros or sweet and kind girls, Arthur’s mind found his memories altering to where he almost exclusively hooked up with members of his high school cheerleading team. There were countless memories where he would be approached after a game by a girl looking to congratulate him for a great performance, which would soon lead to erotic fucking in the locker rooms or baseball dugouts. Although Arthur was once a sensitive lover who was more interested in the emotional connection he had with someone, it was all physical for Chad. He didn’t give a fuck about personality or emotional connection, all that mattered to him was whether a girl had a “banging bod” or not.
Upon the wheel’s effects finally finishing up their changes to the new Chad’s mind, the screens went blank again before announcing that the final stage - career prospects - was about to begin. As Chad looked up towards the first screen, he was utterly confused to see that his career was listed as a “Professional Educator & Aspiring Writer”. He fucking loathed school, so he would never dare to become a loser that spent all of his time dressed up all nice and teaching dumb shit that didn’t matter in real life! The concept of becoming a writer was funny to Chad as well, because he was fully aware of the fact that he was a complete idiot. He loved that fact about himself, so the concept of becoming a writer with his elementary school level writing abilities was hilarious.
After finishing his laugh at the concept of having such loser jobs, Chad watched as the bottom screen lit up and began to display text. His mind was quite confused though as the screen displayed the same text as the top screen: “Professional Educator & Aspiring Writer”. To add more confusion to the mix, the words educator and writer were suddenly erased to leave two large blanks.
As soon as this was complete, Chad jumped in shock as a keyboard suddenly extended out of the device. At first the man had no idea what he was supposed to do, but as he looked at the screen and watched as a text cursor began to blink within the first blank. “Oh shit, it’s like a game huh?” Chad dimly exclaimed, chuckling as he thought about the concept of picking his own career. Although he had the opportunity to pick any possible career that could provide him with a more lavish lifestyle, Chad’s low IQ didn’t allow for such intense thinking. As such, the man’s id led the way as he opted to pursue his immediate impulsive thoughts and typed out his answers. Upon looking it over, the man gave a dopey smile before he pressed the enter button to lock in his answer.
With a loud yet cheerful ringing suddenly emerging upon hitting enter, Chad found himself staring intensely at the bottom screen as more text began to finally fill the screen.
Professional Thirst Trap & Aspiring Rapper * CHOICE ACCEPTED *
Instantly, Chad tilted his head back and gasped as an intense tingle began to massage his skull. Deep within his brain, the jock’s mind was undergoing one final transformation to complete his new life for the day. Although his memories of becoming a worker at his local gym were true, this altered slightly as he became TikTok famous to the point where brands were actively reaching out to do deals and endorsements with him. With such a steady amount of income coming in, the man ultimately quit his job and focused on creating thirst trap content. Now instead of the grueling chore of a 9 to 5, Chad simply spends all of his time now working out and filming vanity videos of himself flexing for the camera.
Given just how fast his brand had grown over the course of the past year, Chad knew that he had his audience in the palm of his hand. So, knowing just how much people thirsted for him (for obvious reasons in his opinion), Chad also found himself making even more money as he opted to open up an OnlyFans account. Despite his OnlyFans account name being Chad Johnson (which always made him chuckle as he was a total Chad and had one glorious Johnson), the young jock was willing to show practically everything besides his impressive manhood. 
Although this was partially due to wanting to keep the ladies guessing, the main factor was that he knew that a large portion of his fans were gay men who thirsted over him. He had always had an issue with queers ever since he caught some nerds checking him out during gym class, so there was always a boiling rage he felt whenever he saw a man thirst-commenting on any of his photos or videos. The concept of some pathetic losers jerking off to his glorious body was utterly disgusting in Chad’s eyes, but the man was smart enough not to make those thoughts known so he wouldn’t be canceled. As such, he ultimately opted to forget about it as they were paying customers who helped fund his lavish lifestyle of expensive fitness gear and sports cars despite still opting to live in his trailer.
Given the constant influx of money he received every month from brand deals and OnlyFans, Chad spent most of his free time pursuing his other passion - rapping. Ever since he was a little boy, he had been drawn to the genre and found himself writing raps for fun whenever he was bored (which was pretty often). Now that he had no worries given his healthy income, the man finally decided to fully invest into his career as an aspiring rapper. Thinking back caused Chad to recall the release of his most recent EP, which had done moderate numbers given the size of his fanbase. 
Unfortunately, Chad’s cockiness made him unable to realize that he truly wasn’t the greatest rapper. Even when people commented under his posts to specifically pinpoint why he wasn’t good at the genre, he refused to believe such nonsense. Those losers were just jealous of his immense talent and trying anything they could to make him give up on his dreams!
As he continued to think about the intense criticism he got and considered making a diss track about those pathetic losers trying to hold him back, the changing of the text on the device’s screens caused him to forgo that thought and see what it said.
If you’d like to keep this life, please press in the knob to lock it in.  If not, you can press the button again tomorrow to try again. Thanks for using The Do-Over! 
Upon reading the text, Chad found himself struggling to comprehend everything that had just occurred to him. He knew deep down that he didn’t used to be like this, but the details were so vague and thinking about it too hard was just making his head hurt… and he hated that!
Luckily for him, a ding from his phone stole his attention and caused him to forget about the confusing transformation that had just befallen him. To his amusement, a text from Chad’s newest hookup had arrived. Although he had a feeling that he had never met the woman before, the memories that rushed into his mind upon thinking about her caused him to think otherwise. He could instantly recall countless nights of fucking where she eagerly worshipped his muscles and was utterly submissive as he fondled her perky breasts, teased her nipples, and slapped her soft peach-shaped ass. He was a total hunk, so it wasn’t a shock that girls like her would bow down to a total alpha!
Cockily smirking upon recalling just how great it was to fuck her, Chad took a moment to adjust the thick bulge that was straining against his underwear before unlocking his phone and entering the text messaging app. Upon doing so, his heart began to beat a little bit faster as he read the “omw” text and looked at the attached photo showcasing the raven-haired woman in her car.
Knowing that the woman only lived a few minutes away, Chad was quick to run around his trailer. Rather than cleaning up though, the man was simply moving items off of the couch and his bed to make sure they had no obstructions once they started messing around. Upon exiting his bedroom, the hunk took a detour into the bathroom where he quickly grabbed a box of condoms out of the medicine cabinet and returned to the kitchen.
After setting them on the counter next to the device that had transformed him, the sound of a knock on his door caused him to perk up and adopt his best machismo persona. With a swagger in his step, he strutted over to the door and pushed it open. As he flicked on the porch light and lifted his arms up to pose against the doorframe, he smirked as he saw Katie standing there dressed in a long trench coat.
“‘Sup babe?” He remarked, smirking as the woman looked up at him with “fuck me” eyes. To his surprise and pleasure though, Katie then suddenly moved towards him, but rather than stopping upon being face to face she just continued. Despite the man’s impressive physique, she was unfazed as she plowed right into his shoulder and caused him to move away and allow her entry. Such an action was an incredible turn on to Chad, as evident by the way he bit his lip and stifled a slight moan as he picked up on the scent of her flowery perfume. 
By the time he returned into the living room upon shutting the front door, the woman had already pulled off the trench coat and revealed an expensive-looking pair of white lace lingerie. So clearly turned on, the jock couldn’t resist reaching down and gripping onto his bulge as he savored the sight of the woman’s D cup breasts struggling to remain trapped within the garment. To make matters even worse, Katie then began to tease the man by attempting a slight striptease. 
“Oh, you want this don’t you?” she purred, guiding her fingers down to her panties which she began to slowly nudge down past the top of her curvy hips.
“Fuck yeah babe,” Chad exclaimed, making his way closer to her until their lips were mere centimeters away. Given the close proximity, the man was overcome by his lustful desires and leaned in to whisper that into her ear. “I wanna fuck that tight pussy of yours so bad…” As he pulled back away from Katie’s ear, the man noticed how the woman now had an equally cocky smirk on her face. 
Upon waiting a second,  she looked the man up and down and began to speak once more. “Then why are you still standing here doing nothing,” she matter of factly asked, which instantly sent Chad in a frenzy.
With incredible haste, the jock put his strength to use by wrapping his arms around Katie’s shoulders and the small of her back before lifting her up. Knowing exactly what to do, the girl pushed her feet off of the ground and used the momentum to wrap her legs around Chad’s waist. Now intimately intertwined, the duo pushed their heads forward and began to sloppily kiss each other. 
As their tongues began to their partner’s mouths, Chad continued walking until he was in the kitchen. Eager to get to the main event as if it was the first time he’d fucked in years (even though he knew he had literally just fucked another girl the night prior), the jock set the woman down on his kitchen countertop while pulling away to begin peppering kisses up and down her chest. 
In more attempts to display his alpha behavior, the man felt no remorse for gripping onto the front of Katie’s bra and ripping it off rather than just unfastening it. Based on the way the woman gasped and moaned as Chad pulled the material off and revealed her breasts, it was clear that she didn’t mind it either. 
With Chad basically nude already, all he had to do by the time he peeled off Katie’s panties was to drop his underwear and kick them to the side. Now staring at each other’s nude forms for a moment, both of them felt an undeniable attraction to each other that made a deep fiery lust emerge within them. As such, Chad looked towards the box of condoms on the counter and quickly grabbed onto them. Upon opening it and tearing one of the packaged condoms open with his teeth, Chad smirked as he rolled it down his irresistible eight inches of manhood.
Upon giving a knowing glance at each other, Chad wasted no time penetrating the woman’s pussy and beginning to fuck her with impressive stamina. As he continued to use his whole body with each thrust, the slapping of skin was also soundtracked by the high-pitched moans of Katie as Chad immediately began to pleasure her. Due to this, the woman found herself losing control of her body as it caused her to flail around.
So while their passionate lovemaking was occurring, neither of them picked up on the fact that one of Katie’s frantic hands had accidentally bumped into a large circular object that was on the counter. As a result, none of them could see how the device with the large red “DO-OVER” button landed onto the floor perfectly so that the extended knob was pressed in and locked into place. 
Given how preoccupied Chad would be for the rest of the night into the next morning, the jock would never discover the device again as the magic within would allow it to be transported back to the company’s headquarters so the next deserving candidate was given the chance for a do-over. As such, Chad would wake up the next morning and go about his daily routine with no memory of the life that he had accidentally given up. Although Arthur himself certainly wouldn’t be too pleased to discover that he had become an idiotic straight himbo, Chad loved that aspect of himself and thought that he was living the dream life!
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Interested in reading more of my content? Head over to my Patreon to discover more than 140 hot transformation stories like this one! Additionally, I've also recently added a perk to the $15 tier where members can submit themselves to be the protagonist in future stories! If you'd love to be transformed by me, this is the only opportunity since I don't do commissions anymore.
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dumberswitch · 1 month ago
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College Shenanigans
Instead of writing one big story, I decided to write a few mini ones. Enjoy!
— —
THINGS IN COMMON
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“Vamos, lá irmão! Hold up, let me take one more peecture!”
Landon had decided to spend a day at the beach with his new roommate, Noah, so the two could get to know each other better. Being a freshman from a town a few miles north, he had very little in common with his Brazilian exchange student, who was in his final year of college. Landon had decided that a day with just the two of them might be the best, and he knew of a nearby lake that could promise a day full of fun. Instead of swimming however, Noah had spent the last three hours explaining the entire Borba family tree while taking pictures with his new camera. He hadn’t stopped talking about his own life once, never trying to make a connection to Landon.
“No, let’s go,” Landon growled as he walked away, “This was just a waste of time.”
“Wait up!” Noah shouted as they reached the car, “Jeust hold up.”
“What?” Landon asked, opening the trunk, “I was wrong, we have nothing in common. This was a mistake.”
“Eso tats te problem?” Noah asked casually, “I can fix tat.”
“How?” Landon replied sarcastically, turning around to face Noah.
FLASH
“To estart, we boat are eseniors.” Landon nodded in agreement, but it was just similar age.
FLASH
“We boat love football. Look at our sexy, fit bodies; tey weere built for esports.” Landon smiled, he really did adore the activity. The two played together often, usually-
FLASH
“We’re boat exchange estudents, only yer Esalveec. I tink you’re from Ucrânia?”
“Так,” Ladislas agreed, his low voice rumbling. Originally from Kiev, he ha-
FLASH
“We’ve been roommates for foor years now! We even plan-ned on liveeng togeter after college.” Memories of the two being best buds suddenly filled Ladislas’ head. The two were always-
FLASH
“Don’t forget our eshare-ed love of tight cloating, it eshows off our beeg packages.” Ladislas gave a dumb smirk, groping himself lazily through his too-small speedo. He-
FLASH
“Neiter of us are very semart, I mean you barely espeak any Eenglish.”
“You right,” Ladislas repli-
FLASH
“And meost importantly, don’t forget tat we love each oter. You always leet me domeenate. For the past few years, tat teeght bubble butt has been my favorite esight to esee–e penetrar.” 
Ladislas rubbed himself, his huge dick suddenly throbbing. What were they arguing about, and why was Noah still taking pictures? They had come to the car for sex, not more photograp… fotog… whatever it was called. Ladislas began to smirk cheerily, for all his dull mind could think of was the pounding he was about to get.
“I vant sex,” he grunted, “Now.”
Noah happily obliged.
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INSTANT FRATIFICATION
Chris sat mopingly, feeling alone as his best friend had randomly disappeared into the giant party around him. He wasn’t keen on coming in the first place, but Edward had insisted that they should go. It was hard to say no to anything he said, because for the longest time he’d had a crush on Edward. But there was nothing Chris could do, as he knew that the other would never reciprocate his feelings. Edward’s few girlfriends had proved so.
Suddenly, a large chant was heard as a herd of frat boys began parading around, stripping off their shirts to reveal chiseled mid-sections and arms that looked to be made of marble. They all looked identical, with their half-naked appearance, a beer in hand, and matching white caps. One confidently swaggered over to Chris, placing a snapback on his head before twisting it backwards.
“Name’s Evan, broski,” he greeted, the empty baritone tone somehow reminded Chris of Edward. There was no way this could be him though, as his best friend was about as short as him, with little body hair and a flamboyant personality. The creature in front of him was tall, muscular, and oozing masculinity.
“Uh… hi,” Chris said, standing up. He stretched before extending a hand, his eyes level with the frat boy’s.
“You looked pathetic, bro,” Evan said emphatically, as if he was trying to sympathize, “Thought I might try to help.”
“Help with what?” Cristo said, his voice taking on a deeper tone as he got defensive.
“Calm down, dude!” Evan put his hands up, noticing possible danger, “I was just being friendly.”
“Oh, uh sorry,” Cistop replied awkwardly, stretching again as muscles erupted across his frame, “I was just waiting for a friend.”
“It’s alright, but it looks like you might need something to take the edge off.” Evan then proudly presented a cheap beer, “These always work.”
“Thanks… bro.” Istophe quickly grabbed the bottle, chugging the flavorless alcohol down his throat. As he did, his feet expanded slowly, destroying his white socks with loafers. Instead, two black Nike socks quickly grew upon his gigantic feet, with a pair of Birkenstocks appearing underneath. The man quickly took the last gulp, with Evan standing in awe and pride in front of him.
“Dude! That was great!” Evan said, patting the other man on the back as his shirt disappeared.
“It was-” before he could finish, the jock quickly covered his mouth. Suddenly, a huge belch escaped, taking his intellect with it. The newly-minted frat boy smiled dumbly, chuckling to himself.
“Bruh, you done? I need a wing man” Evan stated, taking Topher out of his haze, “There some babes over there who have been checking me out like crazy. I need to get laid!”
Evan ran off, his perky butt bouncing with each step. Topher’s python sprung alive, but as a chinstrap snapped around his face, his gaze strayed from his bro to a sorority chick’s lips begging for his dick. Grabbing a pair of sunglasses, Topher groped himself as he made his way over to Evan and the girls, ready to dump a load just like the many nights before.
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PISSED
“I ought to teach him a lesson..”
Professor Lostetter was at his wit’s end. The idiotic lacrosse star, Preston Braccini, had once again disrupted his class. For the entirety of the class, he had called the professor by his first name. It may not seem like much but after the third “Nicholas,” the professor turned around and yelled at the student, both to the surprise of Preston and the class. This wasn’t the first time Professor Lostetter had troubles with the student, but he would make it his last. 
After his last lecture, he snuck down to the locker rooms, knowing practice was currently keeping Preston busy. Snooping through the room quietly, he found an open locker with the outfit he saw the jock wearing earlier that day. He then proceeded to the athletic department’s printing room, knowing it would be an adequate place to hide for a few minutes. Making sure no one could see him, he delicately pulled down his suit pants to reveal a semi-erect penis in his white briefs. Massaging his balls, Lostetter knew he didn’t have much time, so he’d have to be quick.
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Grabbing his dick out of his tighty-whiteys, Professor Lostetter slowly began to piss all over Preston’s clothes. Each article was slowly soaked in the steamy liquid, making the room stink of urine. As soon as the last spurts came out, the professor quickly cleaned himself up and, after gathering the clothes, placed it back where he found it. He smirked to himself as he left the locker room, knowing his problems were finally behind him.
— —
Preston grudged back into the locker room, tired after a long, back-breaking practice. Coach had pushed him extra hard today, making him stay an extra hour to work in the gym. Too tired to shower, he decided to just change and then go back to the dorm. He stripped from his gym wear, showcasing his rippling muscles while he slowly put his other clothes on. Preston noticed the outfit felt a little damp, and it reeked too, but he just assumed it was his sweaty self. Grabbing a can of Axe, he hosed himself down, making sure to cover every inch. He then proceeded to grab his backpack and leave.
Strolling around campus in the night, Preston felt a little anxious to get back to his dorm. He grabbed his phone and began texting his girlfriend, not noticing how his shrinking feet carried him down a different path than he usually took. While his sneakers transformed into leather, he didn’t realize that he was guiding himself towards the history building, located on the other side of campus from his dorm. Putting his phone back in the pocket of his joggers, Preston climbed the steps to the main door, the clickety-clack of his heels hitting lightly on the concrete.
Pushing the doors open silently, Pren couldn’t figure out why he had come here. Something told him he had forgotten to grab something during one of his lectures, so he decided to explore. As he wandered around, his white ankle socks slowly grew up his calves, with every new centimeter gaining a different colored stripe. Finding a stairway, he began his ascent to the second floor, each step up bringing him in a half-inch down. By the top, he had lost 6 inches to his height, now as tall as the average male with hairier and less muscular legs than before.
Ben searched in the common area; for some reason he felt like he was getting closer and closer. Looking around, he couldn’t feel his massive cock slowly sinking in on itself, losing a few inches and girth as it too became average-sized. Ben however did notice the feeling of his jockstrap expanding. Pulling up the top of his bright blue suit pants, he was surprised to see a slightly dirty pair of white briefs. Studying them, he recognized that they were the same kind Professor Lostetter wore. He wasn’t gay or anything–he only knew because he had pulled the man’s pants down once or twice. Forgetting what he was doing, he let go of his waistband and continued his search, unaware of the boner tenting in his pants at the thought of the professor.
Benjie, assuming what he was trying to find wasn’t here, trudged over to the third floor stairway, his expanding butt jiggling with each new step. Making his way up, his university crewneck slowly inflated, creating two layers. The gray hue sunk away as the shirt beneath became a silky white with buttons. The article on top expanded, becoming the same shade of blue as the pants. While a floral tie and handkerchief secured themselves in their locations, Benjie’s physique began to disappear. A once prominent 8-pack sank into a thin layer of fat while two meaty pecs simply ceased to exist. The once powerful arms of a college lacrosse player became the mediocre arms of a 39-year old. Hair quickly filled in Benjie’s pits as a watch appeared on the wrist of his widening hands.
Strolling around the top floor, Benjamin found himself strolling through the professors hallway. Each side was lined with offices for different members of the history department. Walking down the dimly lit hallway, Benjamin didn’t notice his tie tighten itself, pushing back a prominent Adam’s apple. As he got closer to his destination, his face rearranged itself. The once devilishly-handsome jock began to lose his prominent features. First, his jawline expanded as he grew a large cleft in his chin. Little bits of flat filled in the once narrow face, causing the sharp cheekbones to disappear. His lips, nose, and ears grew considerably as his hairline thinned and pushed back. Brown became the new blonde as Benjamin’s hair grew dark, filling in a 5 o’clock shadow as new age lines began to appear. As the last of Benjamin’s youth disappeared, he decided to knock on one of the office doors. He then sat down on a the ground, not realizing the vast amounts of athletic knowledge flowing out of his head to make room for studying, degrees, and many other scientific facts, Man-spreading, he eagerly waited for the door to open.
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“Professor Presler!” Nicholas smirked as he saw the older man sitting on the floor. He looked incredibly nerdy, making the professor all the more happy with the apparent sucess.
“Professor Lostetter,” Benjamin replied in a light tenor tone, “I’ve been diligently waiting for you.”
“Oh sorry, I forgot to grab something before I left, but I’m leaving now.” Nicholas answered while locking his office door. He then turned around and fondled Benjamin’s package, enjoying the shrunken cock and balls.
“I can’t wait to play with this when we get home,” Nicholas purred. He then spanked the other man, who jumped in reply. Nicholas deviously smiled as they walked off.
“It’s about time I teach you a lesson.”
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dumberswitch · 1 month ago
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Poolside Shift
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Evan Reynolds had it all—ivy league education, Wall Street prestige, a swanky condo with floor-to-ceiling windows, and a body built by discipline. Every morning was a cold brew, every night a cocktail, and every weekend a new guy in his bed. But lately, the tailored suits and sterile meetings were starting to feel… dull.
That’s when he met Luca.
Luca was barely 22, a flirty twink with glittering eyes and a mischievous smile, who Evan picked up at a rooftop bar after a long day of trading. There was something irresistible about him—his youthful confidence, his teasing way of speaking. Evan thought he was in control, as always, but it turned out Luca had other plans.
They stumbled back to Evan's place, clothes hitting the floor before the door clicked shut. Luca whispered strange things into his ear as he rode Evan hard—something about shedding his skin, about becoming real, about letting go. Evan was too drunk on lust to care.
He passed out, dazed and sweaty, his chest heaving.
When he woke up, the condo was gone. He was outside, under a blazing sun. The scent of chlorine filled his nose. Birds chirped in palm trees.
He sat up, confused. His arms looked darker—deeply bronzed. His hands were laeger, rougher. He blinked at his reflection in the pool.
Gone were his pale, clean-cut features. In their place: tanned skin that shimmered with sweat, a square jaw lined with the perfect stubble, dark curls tucked under a navy cap. His shoulders were broader, his chest thicker, his abs popping like he lived at the gym. His cock—oh god—it was huge, uncut, and hungry. He felt the weight of it, thick and heavy in his tight blue shorts.
He stumbled to his feet.
“Morning, Diego,” Luca’s voice purred behind him.
Evan spun around—his mind reeled, yet his cock twitched.
“What the fuck did you do to me?” he growled—but the words came out with a rich Latin accent.
“I made you mine,” Luca said with a wicked smile. “No more suits. No more spreadsheets. You’re exactly what the world needs now. A sweaty, sexy, horny pool boy with a thick cock and no inhibitions.”
Luca tossed him a skimmer pole.
“You’ve got three houses today. And the husbands? They tip very well.”
Something inside Diego—Evan—burned with resistance. But as the sun kissed his brown skin and his cock swelled with morning wood, the memory of Wall Street began to fade…
…and all he could think about was which husband he’d fuck first.
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dumberswitch · 1 month ago
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Dylan Harper had never been a man of presence.
He was the kind of guy people’s eyes skimmed over in a crowd — slight frame, short haircut, the kind of posture that folded in on itself like a question mark. He spent most of his days behind a desk in a mid-tier consulting firm, organizing data, avoiding conversations, eating his turkey sandwich in the break room while pretending to read.
But today… something was wrong.
He was in the back of a rideshare, heading home just like any other evening, when it began. At first, it was subtle: a tingling in his arms, like his skin had been lightly sunburned. He rolled up the sleeves of his cardigan and frowned. The hairs on his forearms were standing on end — but there were more of them than usual. Thicker. Darker. Spreading.
"What the hell...?" he muttered, rubbing his arm.
Then came the heat.
It surged through his chest and neck like a fever, swelling his muscles, tightening his skin. He gasped and unbuttoned his shirt collar, only to find a growing patch of coarse, black hair erupting over his pecs. His narrow chest — once soft and unimposing — was pushing outward, thickening with firm muscle, draped in a forest of fur.
His hands were trembling.
Dylan pulled out his phone, panic bubbling in his throat. He hit the front camera. What he saw didn’t match who he was. His jaw was squarer. His cheekbones more pronounced. His eyebrows looked thicker, more defined. Worst of all — or maybe best, depending on your perspective — a thick beard was creeping over his cheeks like ivy in fast-forward.
“No, no, no, no…”
He hit Record. His voice shook.
“Okay—uh—my name is Dylan Harper,” he said, almost pleading. “I work in accounting. I don’t know what’s happening right now. I was just riding home from work and—something’s happening to me. My body’s—it’s changing. I feel like I’m burning up, and I’ve got hair growing all over my chest and face, and my voice is—”
He coughed, and it came out as a growl.
“Jesus—my voice is changing too. Please—someone has to help. This isn’t right. This isn’t me.”
He moved the phone to show his chest. His once-flat torso had swelled into something broad, masculine, dusted with an ever-thickening pelt. His collarbone was hidden beneath it. His nipples were larger, darker, firm with muscle behind them. He gasped as a burst of heat filled his arms — his biceps were swelling, tearing the sleeves of his cardigan.
Dylan looked horrified.
His fingers shook as he tried to upload the video.
Upload failed.
His phone buzzed. The Photos app opened.
“Wh—what the hell? No, no—”
The screen lit up, and the video started to play. But it wasn’t the one he recorded.
On-screen was the same face… but not the same man. He was shirtless now, glistening slightly with sweat, beard thick and perfectly shaped. The chest hair that once terrified Dylan now framed him like a badge of pride. He leaned into the camera with a cocky smirk and a slow rumble in his voice.
“Hey there, stud,” he said, fingers brushing through his beard. “Name’s Dirk McLean. Big, bad, bearded, and damn proud of it.”
Dylan froze.
On the video, Dirk rolled his shoulders, his pecs flexing visibly beneath a mat of dark fur. His eyes burned with confidence, voice honeyed with flirtation.
“Just got back from the gym, thought I’d show you boys what a real man looks like. You like chest hair? I got a damn forest. Wanna touch? Bet you do. I know you’re watchin’ this with one hand already.”
“No! That’s not me! That’s not—I didn’t say any of that!” Dylan shouted at the phone, his hands trembling.
But something in him… shifted.
A numbness rolled over his thoughts like fog. The fear drained away. His mouth parted. His eyes lost focus. And then…
He found himself holding the phone again, like before. But this time, he wasn’t watching the video. He was recording it.
And he was saying it all—word for word.
“Hey there, stud,” he purred into the lens. “Name’s Dirk McLean. Big, bad, bearded, and damn proud of it.”
He grinned wide, deep voice laced with flirtation as he rubbed his fingers through his dense beard, slowly sliding down to rake across his hairy chest. He let out a satisfied growl.
“Just got back from the gym, thought I’d show you boys what a real man looks like. You like chest hair? I got a damn forest. Wanna touch? Bet you do. I know you’re watchin’ this with one hand already.”
He winked.
Dirk stopped the recording, smiling lazily. His thumb hovered over the send button — not to family, not to coworkers. Not even to anyone he’d known before.
He opened Grindr.
There was a guy nearby, profile name “MuscleChaser69.” Dirk didn’t hesitate.
Sent.
As he leaned back into the leather seat, stretching his now-massive arms behind his head, he felt no trace of Dylan Harper in his mind. The meek office drone, the nervous wreck in a cardigan — gone. His memories were foggy, faded like a bad dream. All he knew now was Dirk McLean: bold, flirty, hairy, hot as hell.
He scratched his beard, admiring himself in the reflection of the window. That smirk never left his face.
And when his phone buzzed with a “🔥” and a message saying “Damn, stud. U free tonight?” he just chuckled.
“Damn right I am.” he sent.
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dumberswitch · 1 month ago
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'Bama Bros
Did you like Bro'd Trip? Here's another longer story with a more physical, sensual (18+) transformation at the end. Enjoy!
Of all the roommates I could’ve gotten - obnoxious jocks, moronic meatheads - I’m glad it was Zach. We were the only two people at the University of Alabama actually trying to get an education. While our peers got drunk at house parties, we played video games.
“I don’t get people who do that,” Zach said, having just beaten me at Mario Kart again. “All the partying. And the drinking.”
“I know…I mean, there are party schools, and then there’s…”
“No, not that. I just don’t understand the appeal of it. They get something out of it, right? But what?”
“I don’t know. Aren’t you the sociology major?”
“I am…?”
“Well, if anyone could find an answer, it’s you. But good luck! You couldn’t pay me enough money to hang around with those guys.”
Zach paused, resting his chin on his hands. “You know…that’s not a terrible idea.”
I rarely saw Zach after that. He was too busy with his pet project, always coming and going to a frat house, a football practice, a gym session. The whole thing seemed so…stupid. I suppose it was my fault for putting the idea in his head.
“So, are you staying over the summer?” Zach asked. It felt like the first time we’d talked in weeks. I was trying to pack up some of my things, hoping it’d hasten my future move-out.
“Uh, no. I think I need a break. Honestly, I might transfer."
“Oh, wow. Um, I was thinking I’d stay, actually. A lot of the guys I’ve talked to will be here, so I think it’ll be good.” He paused, taking a breath. “But, I hope I’ll see you in the fall.”
“Thanks, Zach.”
I moved out a few weeks later, leaving our apartment in Zach’s hands for the summer. I didn’t care enough to sublet it. The less I thought about Alabama, the better. It wasn’t a hard decision: I had to transfer. But no school would take me - just my luck.
The drive back was long and quiet, except for the rumble of thunder in the distance. The heat and humidity seeped into my car. I was already dreading the prospect of hauling all my stuff inside.
“Hey, Zach!” I really hadn’t texted him this whole time? “Hope you’re doing okay. Good news: I’m coming back! I’ll be there in an hour. Would you mind helping me?”
I turned back to the highway. My phone pinged a few moments later.
“sweet! no prob bro.”
“Great, thanks so much! Looks like those guys have worn off on you, lol!” 
“yeah lmao. u got no idea wat u missed.”
What the…? I meant it as a joke.
I pushed the accelerator down, my stomach sinking. Just under 50 minutes later, I parked outside our building. 
“Yo! Long time no see, dude!”
The guy waiting for me was tall and muscular. His tight gray tank top exposed his stomach, and his arms barely fit into it. They were covered in tattoos, Bible quotes inked on his tricep and forearm; a cross hung around his neck. 
That wasn’t Zach. 
“Hi…Zach?” I squeaked, his embrace squeezing the air out of me.
“Uh, yeah, that’s me, haha! You good? Drive take a lot out of you?” He’d already made his way to my trunk, gesturing for me to unlock it. “Thanks. I’ll take these,” he said, grabbing a box under each arm. “Damn, you sure packed a lot. Good thing I’ve been hittin’ the gym!”
Wordlessly, I followed him back into the apartment. I looked around the place. My stuff was untouched, but I couldn’t help but notice the tubs of protein powder strewn throughout the kitchen. The AC was off, and the place reeked of body odor. I took a seat on the couch, tossing some sweat-stained piece of fabric off the cushion.
Wait, was that a jockstrap?
“I’m glad you’re back, dude!”
“Well, it wasn’t really my decision.” I sighed. “I don’t really fit in here, Zach. I hate it.”
“Nah, don’t say that! Look, I got just the thing. Give me a sec…” He vanished into his own room. 
“Alright, here we go. Just put this on, take a deep breath, and relax.”
He’d come out with a football helmet on his head. The guy it belonged to must’ve been massive. It dwarfed Zach - the facemask alone was wider than his neck. 
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He took it off, shook out his hair, and held it in his hands. 
“You don’t gotta say yes. But if you do…it’s all gonna be okay. I promise.”
I opened my mouth. 
“What was that?”
“Yes.”
Before I could blink, Zach pressed the helmet down over my head. It was dark. Quiet. It felt like the rest of the world had disappeared.
My heart raced. 
What was I doing? This was insane!
And then…
Warmth. 
I felt it, every inch of my skin tingling. I could smell the sweat, the cologne, the grass, the cheap beer, the musk. I was with them.
I was one of them. 
So strong. 
So confident. 
So powerful.
I shivered. My arms itched, skin swelling around new muscle. My shirt tightened across my chest, solid, thick pecs pushing outward.
I grunted. “Oh, fuck!”
My voice was lower. 
My cock twitched. I felt it thickening, lengthening, hardening, dripping. I moaned.
I gotta get this thing off me…or not...
My thighs got nice and meaty. My stomach tightened, abs and obliques coming in nicely. I just felt…kinda fuzzy. All soft and warm. 
Ah….fuck. Yeah, I get it now! I don’t have to give a shit about being smart or whatever. ‘Cus…yeah, that’s not what life’s about. I just gotta be strong, sexy, stupid. Oh, my cock liked that! Yeah, little dude’s gonna blow. Not so little anymore though, hahaha!
I palmed myself, feeling my bulge through my shorts. Goddamn. I moaned just a little, thrusting into my hand.
I was fuckin’ built for this! 
“Bro…I’m glad I came back!”
— 
“cant wait 4 that party 2nite! ready 2 show off ;) "
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dumberswitch · 1 month ago
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dumberswitch · 1 month ago
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Call of the Wild
“To become part of the wild…”
The voice was warm, deep, feminine, yet inhuman. It vibrated through the trees like something half-sung, half-whispered.
“Protect life. Embrace life. Release life.”
Brad woke up choking on smoke and sweat.
The wreckage of his father’s airplane still hissed behind him, blackened rotors twisted like dead petals in the dirt. His $800 white designer jacket was shredded open across the chest. His joggers were damp and torn at the thigh, almost like homemade shorts. His phone smashed into a million pieces. His chain was scratched up.
His skin stung. His temples throbbed.
“Ugh fuck,” he groaned, rolling onto his side. “This is so fucked.”
The jungle around him buzzed with life. Everything was too loud, birds shrieking, frogs croaking, the wet hiss of something slithering through leaves. Brad had never camped a day in his life. His last time being in this climate was in Bali, but the surroundings were a far cry from his current one, a private resort, a rooftop suite, and Michelin-star meals.
He forced himself up, staggering, brushing filth from his arms with a grimace. His blond hair was matted with sweat and ash, and he already felt sticky. Disgusting. There had to be a way out. He looked towards the tree line and a grand mountain in the distance. Brad sighed, sizing it up with his eyes, and figured he could make it up by dawn and see the closest town in the distance. 
But the moment he stepped away from the crash site, the air shifted. 
“...Go… find…” Quiet words spoke softly on the wind, rustling through the trees surrounding him, as though the jungle was alive. He shivered. He tried to shake it off. “You’re just dehydrated. Hallucinating.” But even his voice sounded weaker, less sure. Like something was listening. Something ancient.
He pushed through the overgrowth, cursing under his breath as thorny branches scratched his arms. By the time he reached a sun-drenched ridge of mossy stone, he was drenched in sweat. Brad had stripped down from his luxurious attire at this point, the humidity had caused him to relinquish his already torn and tattered jacket. His tight grey undershirt clung to his pale skin. His waistband sagged, and his once-sleek sneakers squelched with every step. 
The lanky boy hadn’t known a day of exercise or work in his life; he didn’t need muscles to get the girls when he had his father’s money, and more importantly, becoming even slightly bigger would make his perfectly tailored clothes look terrible on him. 
Peculiarly, he felt more and more strength coursing through his veins. He felt the opposite of exhausted, which any normal person would already be experiencing by now, he was invigorated. With every step he took, every inch he climbed as he hoisted himself up through the jungle, and every branch of leaf he broke off as he forged his path, he only felt his body harden.
It had only been a short while since he had awoken, but he could notice his biceps and chest had surely packed on some meat. Everything around him was forcing him to exercise each of his muscles, almost as if the jungle was his own personal trainer. He smelled like pure musk, and the wisps of hair that had grown out of his previously waxed armpits were only proof that there was some sort of mystical power in this jungle. 
“God,” he groaned, wiping his brow. “When I get home, I’m nuking this whole fuckin’ jungle…” Home. What a funny notion. He would kill to be there right now. Stupidly, this could’ve all been avoided if he had just listened to his father. Stop traipsing across the world, stay home,and  take over the company. Of course, in his defiance, Brad booked another trip to Tokyo to prolong the impending reality he soon had to face. Taking the brand new self-piloting private jet for a test drive rather than the family pilot, and of course, it had to crash in the middle of what he could only assume was South or Southeast Asia.
He had barely made it 2 hours from the crash site, and with no idea where to go, all he could do was keep trucking on. As he trudged forward into the heart of the jungle, in the flash of an eye, something scurried across the moist floor. 
A spider. Big. Right in front of his feet, almost frozen in fear from the towering human being it had never seen before.
“Ugh, seriously?” He was even more irritated now, he hated spiders. As he raised his foot to crush it, almost as if to take his anger out on it from his current situation, he paused.
Something twitched in his chest. A strange tightness he had never felt before. He frowned. Before, he wouldn’t hesitate to release his frustration on something of a lower status than him, an assistant or even an animal, but something was stopping him now. Without fully meaning to, he shifted his step, causing his foot to slip. Brad yelped as his body twisted, stumbling forward over the poor arch of, tumbling hard into the dirt, face-first, landing with a grunt.
“Fucking shit!” he groaned, dazed and furious.
But then he felt it.
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Skittering. Spiders. Crawling over his arms. His back. His chest. He froze, eyes wide, and heart hammering, just like the spider he had almost just squashed. But they weren’t biting. Just moving. Dozens of delicate legs across his skin, his neck, his cheeks. Then, just as quickly, they were gone. And he heard it, soft and impossible, like a whisper, “Thank you.”
He sat up fast, breathing hard.
“No… no, no no, I’m—hallucinating. It’s heatstroke. That didn’t just happen.”
But the jungle rustled around him like it was laughing.
And deep in his chest, something knew this wasn’t just a normal rainforest.
The trees grew thicker. Wilder. Sweat dripped down his temples. His slightly tanned and hardened body now sported light scrapes, flecks of mud, and the early flush of sunburn. His breath came heavier. His steps are slower. But he didn’t stop. It had been hours since he last stopped, during the spider scenario, but something in him needed no break. It was like Brad was made for this adventure, and delirious memories of his love for hiking and nature soon infiltrated his mind. He was used to survival in the wild, wasn’t he? From his long hours in the gym to his annual camping trip where he could only live off the land,  he was a natural-born explorer. In fact, he relished it, feeling as though it was a way to keep connected to the real world even through his multimillion-dollar lifestyle. 
He knew that he was never going to take over his father’s company, not after how much damage it’s done to the environment through pollution and deforestation. All he cared for was giving back. 
By the time he reached the low, humid marshes before the mountain, he was completely dirtied. He had long ditched his grey tank top, after it got caught on a branch and tore in two, now completely shirtless and exposed. Dusk had fallen across the jungle, and the night was alive with new dangers. Brad had been through this before, recalling his past experiences with camping in the albeit less dangerous American wilderness. His skin had been smeared with grime and damp leaves, and every time he wiped them away, he could tell his body had gotten a few shades darker, almost as if it was being dyed.
The jungle was steaming. Every vine pulsed with green life. And something about it… felt good. Like his skin was drinking it in. He didn’t even notice at first. But something about the air, the heat, the noise — it made his thoughts swim. Brad’s already growing body was packed with muscle, and abs he had never seen before were popping up one by one on his torso, and a ballooning pair of pecs had situated themselves on his chest. His body felt virile and alive, and it made his cock throb in his wet shorts. His fingers drifted there absentmindedly, to scratch the itch of his growing bush and balls. 
Then he froze.
A splash in the marsh. A hiss.
Something struck fast from the shadows. A venomous brown water snake, something he had only seen before in his nature survival guidebooks, was native to the north Indian rainforests. At least he now knew where he was.
Its fangs sank into his calf. He grabbed the snake from his leg and tossed it gently aside, making sure not to hurt it in the way it had hurt him. 
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“AH—fuck!!” he gasped, collapsing into the reeds.
The venom hit instantly. Fiery hot raw sensation, a burning sensation racing up his leg.
But it didn’t feel like pain. It felt good.
The blonde man whimpered, falling to all fours, trembling as the venom coursed through him. His tan skin flushed. His spine arched. A fever ignited deep in his gut. His cock stiffened almost painfully.
“Embrace life.”
The sound of ripples in the marsh water almost made out words, but he could barely register them.
His pounding head drooped. His tongue lolled. His thoughts blurred softly around the edges.
Most amazingly, his body swelled. His shoulders broadened, lats flaring outward. His back thickened with cords of new muscle. His arms twitched, biceps exploding, muscle tearing and rebuilding. His already well-developed pecs pushed outward, becoming even heavier and firmer. His abs re-etched themselves like a sculptor carving stone. His skin had fully darkened, becoming a match to the skin tone of his Indian environment.
Venom continued to course through his form, all the way down to his lower body, where his dick began to grow and harden below. All of his 6 inches suddenly exploded, tearing through the seams of his tattered shorts into a whopping 11 inches with girth rivaling the snake that had bestowed this curse, or miracle, upon him. His feet burst through the size 9, $500 Nikes he had been desperately clinging to to protect him from the jungle floor.
“Uhhnnn… fuhh… feel… hot…” he groaned, eyes fluttering, voice already dumber, deeper.
His hair, once salon-perfect, hung in damp, tangled waves. His jaw squared out, face flushed and blank.
And Brad was left there panting, saliva leaking, dick fully hard, dripping a thick substance into the dirt. He needed something. Water. Relief. Something to cool the heat burning through his brain.
He rose up and sniffed the air. Smelling… wetness.
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His thick thighs tensed, back arched wide, preparing his new form of walking on all fours. And he stumbled forward, guided by the animalistic need in him.
A stone's throw distance forward, he reached a fork in the road, two paths. Something in him knew that left would lead to the mountain, the destination he had been trying to reach all along, and right would take him to water, where new life lay in wait. It was almost like this was his home, his domain, a land he knew and loved like the back of his hand. But his brain was mush at this point, Thad or Chad could barely even remember his own name, or why he was in this jungle in the first place. This was more than just a fork in the road, it was a decision. The jungle called to him, and he was thirsty, like a beast who yearned for an oasis. He truly had no other choice. He veered right.
A curtain of vines lay before him, and with his eyes red with poison and his hand trembling with weakness, he mustered the strength to brush the leafage aside. The lagoon was now before him. Circular. Sacred. Surrounded by large rocks covered in glowing moss, with roots coiled like thrones. The water shimmered like living glass, without a single ripple, unperturbed and uninterrupted.
Brad groaned as he stepped into the shallow entrance, dragging himself by the grand stones. The moment the water touched his skin, his new body pulsed with life, almost as if healing him from all ailments. He relished in the coolness, splashing himself with water as he yelped with joy. He bent down and lapped up the water with his tongue, forgoing the human habit of cupping it with his hands. He didn’t care. He rested his eyes as his body experienced the new sensation. Brad’s entire form stretched out a whole foot in length, going from his original 5’8 to now 6’8. He was a massive beast of a man, a caretaker of life, a protector… of the jungle. 
Suddenl,y vines moved across the water, sliding across the surface like snakes, wrapping around his thighs, stroking up his abs, teasing his chest. One coiled under his cock. Another around the base. And another, smaller, slicker, curved across the head and began to stroke.
Brad whimpered.
He didn’t move. He couldn’t. He was held in place by the vines, knee deep in the water, and the venom had weakened his body enough that he couldn’t run if he wanted. The heat, the lagoon, the whispering jungle, all of it melted what little willpower remained. His mind flickered like a dying candle.
“Uhhh… wha… whahappen…”
The vines pumped gently against his member. Worshipfully. They knew his rhythm better than he did.
His abs twitched. His pecs flexed. His cock pulsed, leaking a thick, primal precum into the water. The pool began to glow as if illuminated by the rising sun.
They jerked him slowly, enough for him to experience the pleasure but not fast enough for him to cum just yet. It was almost torturous for him, now only caring about blowing his load. His mind began to wipe itself of all previous memory, of his past life as Brad, the spoiled rich kid who went missing 5 years ago. There was no life outside of this jungle for him, he was abandoned here as a baby, grew alongside the monkeys and trees, learned to live off the forest’s bountiful greens. Most notably, he’s a protector, a skilled beast when facing poachers who dare come across the land to hunt. The locals in the closest town 50 miles away warn of him, “Do not provoke the beast or you won’t return.” He is a legend, a myth no evil has lived to tell the tale of, he is the jungle. His empty brain was fogged up fully now. Words gone. Just grunts. Just desire.
“Release life.”
He came with a cry. Long, loud, feral. Birds flew away in flocks at just his roar. 
Barrels of steaming cum spilled into the cool pool in thick, ropy waves. The vines held him as he convulsed, every spasm triggering another jet of hot seed. It caused the water to sizzle around him as the vines retreated, their job now complete. The pool drank it. And then… it gave back.
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His final form rose with the dawn.
Massive.
Thick.
Brainless.
The beast’s body was a hulking wall of brown, veined muscle. His pecs bulged like armor. His biceps swelled with dumb power. His cock hung thick and heavy between dirt-smudged thighs, still twitching.
He smelled like pure mustard. Rancid. Manly. he didn’t care for showers, he has no need, doesn’t even know what they are. The beast’s skin glowed with golden sweat, streaked with moss. His hair, tangled and wild, spilled down his back. His once-perfect face now bore a dull, beautiful vacancy, eyes green and glazed, jaw slack and mouth snaggle-toothed.
He grunted. Stretched. Sniffed the air. He smelled hunters on the wind, the vile stench of mankind. 
He dropped to all fours, cock swinging, ready to serve the jungle. His jungle.
He was the guardian now.
A dumb, virile brute.
And Mother Nature purred with satisfaction.
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Hey guys :) Quick story just to get something out there this year. Hope you’re all well even through any tough times. See you (hopefully) again this year!
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dumberswitch · 1 month ago
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dumberswitch · 1 month ago
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Bro'd Trip
I'm trying something new, so here's a longer story with a more physical, sensual (18+) transformation at the end. Hope you enjoy!
“we r here! cant wait 2 c u j-man!!!”
Josh blinked. Why did he say yes to this? 
He hadn’t heard from Matt and Kyle since high school. They were friends, but Josh felt - knew - he was the odd one out.
Matt and Kyle were tall, strong, and athletic. They played football; Josh spent his time in the library. They lived for homecoming and prom; he set his sights on becoming the valedictorian. 
Still, Josh was happy to do Kyle's homework for a few bucks, and he’d gotten more rides from Matt than he could count.
That felt forever ago. The last four years were a whirlwind of lectures and exams. Josh had finally just received his diploma. Did Matt and Kyle even go to college? Not without an athletic scholarship... 
It was Matt who reached out:
“yo! congrats on graduating. havent talked in forever, lol. u wanna meet up, do a road trip? can bring kyle. make it a boys thing :)”
“Hey! It’s really good to hear from you, Matt. And thank you! I think that could be fun. How about two weekends from now? Do you have any ideas about where to go?”
“yeah! dont worry, ill figure it out. you dont gotta think about it. our gift to u, lol!!!”
Oh no. Josh didn’t leave his plans to anyone else, especially Matt and Kyle. He didn’t believe in being carefree: He was careful. If it were up to Josh, there’d be a detailed itinerary, alternative routes and destinations, a color-coded spreadsheet to organize everything...
“Okay. I’ll try not to worry, haha.”
And now, Matt and Kyle were in his driveway. 
“saved u the front seat! kyle says hes hungry, lol. better get out here quick.”
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With a nervous sigh, Josh grabbed his bag and headed outside. 
“There he is! The man, the myth, the legend!” called Kyle, his head halfway out the window.
Josh tried not to roll his eyes as he pulled open the car door. A blast of sweltering, stale air hit him as he slid into the passenger seat. 
“Forgot to mention, but, uh, AC’s broke. Guy wanted way too much money to fix it. Hope you don’t mind too much?” Matt said.
“I…it’s whatever. But it’s good to see you guys! Thanks for putting this together.”
“Yeah, man!” Matt pulled Josh in for a shoulder hug. He seemed different. His jaw was sharper, his lips thicker, his grip firmer. 
Kyle stuck his head around from the backseat. “Dude, when Matt told me you said yeah, I was freakin’ pumped! We missed you, J-Man!"
“I know, I'm terrible at keeping in touch. What’s new with you guys?"
“Not much. We both kinda stuck around after school,” Matt said. “Thought about doing some sorta personal training thing together.”
“Yeah, didn’t work out,” Kyle said. “Anyway…you ready to have some fun this weekend!”
“Oh, yeah. So, where are we going?”
“Bro, I told you not to worry. You trust me, right? Just relax.”
Josh nodded. He was already overheating. The whole car smelled…salty, like sweat. But something else. What was that? 
“You good, man?” Kyle asked. 
“Yeah…I think so. It's just hot.”
“Look," said Matt, "forget the AC. We wanna make sure you have a good time, dude. You been studyin’ and goin’ to class and all that. And now, you deserve to chill out a little. Just be with your bros.”
Josh felt a weight on his shoulders. He gasped as Kyle's hands moved down across his chest and brushed against his nipples. He kept going, massaging the muscle around and around.
He was too distracted to notice that Matt’s fingers had worked their way up his thigh, eagerly waiting by his waistband.
“You want this?”
"Yes."
In an instant, Matt reached in, his thick hand grabbing Josh’s cock. He grabbed the head, working it slowly and steadily, pressure building and releasing.
Josh moaned, his mind foggy with heat and pleasure. Kyle murmured in his ear. “You’re gonna be just like us, bro. Say it.”
“I…ungh…just wanna be…a…bro. Like you.”
Matt pulled on him hard. Josh threw his head back, hips bucking against the seat.
He wasn’t just hard. He was getting longer, getting thicker, getting bigger. His balls swelled, churning with newfound testosterone.
Josh grunted. “Fuck, it’s so…I'm so...”
“Hang on! Gotta get you geared up.” Kyle grabbed his hat and shoved it onto Josh’s head, sweat soaking into his hair. He wrapped a chain around Josh’s neck, the cold metal dangling against his thick chest.
Kyle gave his new bro’s shoulders a squeeze. “Now.”
Josh threw himself backward, a thick and heavy load pouring out of him. He couldn’t think. Didn’t want to think. Just…release.
“That’s it,” Matt said, hand still pumping. “Get it all out. You’re made for this, bro. Goddamn, you're huge, haha!”
“Yeah…I am.” A dumb, contented smile came over Josh’s face.
It was gonna be a good trip.
“thx 4 the invite bros. had fun! do it again soon? - j-man”
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dumberswitch · 1 month ago
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“Ugh. Not again” said Nolan.
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Every day, Nolan passed the chair, that one machine in the corner of the gym. And every day, it was there: a consistent shadow of sweat, like someone had sat there marinating in their own funk. And the culprit? Standing just a few feet away, near the pool of sweat, vacant eyes and jaw hanging like a brute, with a cocky smirk as he searched for his next chair victim. A massive, obnoxious, grunting slab of a man. A meathead in every sense of the word.
Nolan was never someone who sweat much. And even then, he was the clean type. A towel for every seat. Wipes before and after. Crisp. Respectful. He couldn’t understand how someone could treat a public space like that and still live so carefree.
All the other times, he refused to use any machine the gym gorilla had touched. But this time? This time, he’d had enough.
There it was in front of him. Damp. Glossy. Disgusting.
Nolan sighed. He pulled a handful of sanitized wipes and started scrubbing. The man’s scent was in the chair, like it had soaked into the very texture. Some of the droplets splashed onto his skin. He winced, wrinkling his nose.
But he needed this. He couldn’t let himself be overrun by that man’s dominance.
He sat. The faux leather was still warm. He shuddered but leaned into the exercise anyway. Basic dumbbells. Slow and controlled. Breathe in, exhale. Again.
Strangely, the movement felt good today. Maybe it was the rush of overcoming his disgust. Maybe something else. The reps felt easier. He was feeling the pump. His arms flexed just a bit fuller. Triceps popping. Abs feeling tight. His shirt clung a little tighter. And was that… sweat? Real drops on his forehead?
He stopped to drink water. Damn, he was sweating. And it felt... good. He felt big.
He continued. More sweat dripped, off his head, down his chest, soaking his shirt. Muscles pumped, biceps swelling. The dumbbells now heavier. His chest bloomed into two defined mounds, his shoulders broadening, shirt stretching tighter across his back. His breathing shifted, deeper, rougher. His voice dropped an octave.
He felt taller. Stronger. Powerful.
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By the fourth set, his legs had thickened, quads like balloons, calves sculpted and solid. His glutes, rounded and tight. His breathing had shifted to deep, rhythmic grunts. He was a beast now, almost as massive as that original meathead. No... maybe more.
His shirt clung to his drenched body. He raised his arm, now covered in a dense patch of hair, and took a sniff.
Once, he would have never, not in public, not anywhere. But now? He sniffed again. Proudly.
His head felt foggy. Thoughts slowed, melted. But damn, bro, his smell? Delicious. Rank in the best way. Entrancing. A real man’s scent. He chuckled “huhuhu” deep and dumb, a laugh with no thought behind it.
For a flicker of a second, something inside him flinched. This wasn’t him. This wasn’t... Nolan.
But then, he flexed, and caught his reflection.
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“Fuck…”
Veins pulsed, threatening to burst. His arms looked unreal. Sculpted. Huge. He grinned. Flexed harder. He looked swole.
He dropped the dumbbells with a satisfying clang. Heads turned. Yeah, let them think he was some rude, sweaty meathead. He didn’t care. In fact, he liked it.
He felt the final beads of sweat run down his body, the last traces of the man he used to be.
He slung a towel over his shoulder. Not to clean. Of course not. That was for massaging his biceps later.
Behind him, the chair remained, drenched. Wet. Stinky. Damp. Absolutely soaked in his sweat.
Nolan lifted his arms, stretched wide, took a deep breath of his own musk, and smirked. Anyone would be lucky to get a whiff of that manly essence.
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dumberswitch · 1 month ago
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Ya’ll like my butt so much. Making me want to twink out. I could make a UwU face, bite my lip, push out my rear and say ‘Mmm, does my butt look big like this?’. Then you’re ensnared into my trap. Hypnotised and fixated by my ass, those two perfectly round globes. I’ll make sure you’re the ideal top for me. A big smelly jock with a thick meat head.
‘Gosh it feels so empty’ I’d say, and your cock would swell and expand as your brain empties. Arms balloon and chest cracks. Sweat leaking from your pits and feet. Your legs hardening into thick tree trunks. Square jawed and glassy eyed. I want you perfect; to get what I need from you. My perfect jock top. All muscles. Dense. Meaty. Dumb.
I’d giggle and say ‘Like, you’re so hawt’ as I push back into you. The slow cogs in your head would turn and you’d grunt. ‘Flex for me dummy’ and you’d flex, like my own action figure for me to play with. A toy to pose. You no longer have the mental capacity to disagree, to deny me. Agreeing is just so much easier. After all, you don’t need to think, you just have to look hot and strong. Nothing more than a glorified chiseled statue. A trophy.
And when the time comes, you’d fill my butt on command. Pistoning in and out, like a tool. Because that’s all you are to me. A tool for my pleasure, for my every desire. Anything for me and my god like booty. Good jock. Good fuck-machine.
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