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[imsrtman]

Gacha Bro

Jk here's an actual video game TF haha! Bit of a trade with @artificial-transmutations ! Hope you enjoy this spin on a barbarian TF! -Occam

Erik wouldn’t label himself a gamer really, sure he threw on a stream every so often and tried to at least keep abreast of what’s popular, but he just never really found a game to care all that much about. He is fairly confident that the game his friend Jack just sent him Achillean Dreams was sure to be another in a laundry list of mediocre games he’s had a go at. It looks like a standard Gacha game which he’s never really cared for, they’re quite pay-to-win and predatory. Though he supposes that a few of his friends quite enjoy Genshin Impact? Maybe it’ll be a little fun?

Jack says he needs Erik to download the app and start playing so he can get a free pull, and after grumbling that this is precisely why he hates gacha games he downloads the app from Jack’s link and starts at it. He’s greeted with a grandiose generic animation sweeping through some fantastical setting before being deposited at his first draw. Rolling his eyes that this is just a lottery app he clicks and watches as he grows slightly curious to what, or who rather, he would pull. The screen flashes a few times before light bursts from the screen before he hears a burly voice shout “Graugh! Let’s Go!”  as a barbarian burst onto his screen swinging an axe. It zooms into his face through a mist of sweat to land on his rage filled eyes and a barbaric smirk as text reads Congratulations! You Pulled Enki the Barbarian! The screen changes once more, this time showing Enki’s model just standing and posing with his axe, flexing at the camera as if to challenge the player. Erik blushes before grimacing.

On the rare occasion he does decide to game he would never choose to play any kind of melee fighter type guy.  He taps through the menus to get to the gameplay so he can get this over with. Jack didn’t say exactly how much he needs to play but Erik is sure it’ll be clear. He starts maneuvering Enki through the world of the game, finding the controls incredibly intuitive as he finishes the tutorial and levels up. Doing so gives him a slight high, just enough of a rush to keep going. Might as well play a little longer considering he’s sure to never pick this game back up once he puts it down.

Entering the true starting area he goes around killing slimes and large spiders to get some experience points and level up. Each time he does so he finds himself growing more and more invested in the game, he can see why people like this after all, with each kill of some weak monster his warrior only grows more powerful which in turn helps him level up faster. He looks hungrily at his muscular character as he hears the chime of another level up and sees what new aspects and skills he has new access to.

In no time at all Enki is already level five and Erik uncharacteristically pumps the air in excitement before he shakes his head in shock at himself. He blushes as he sees Enki’s figure stretch in impatience on the level up screen. Man though, no wonder Jack wanted another pull in this game, it’s already quite addictive. He then hears his stomach grumble and is taken aback. He just ate didn’t he? He looks to the clock to confirm as the hunger overtakes him regardless of when his last meal was. He gets up to go grab food and finds himself shockingly sore. Jesus he needs to exercise more, or is he dehydrated? Just like Enki he stretches as he begins to make his way over to make a sandwich. 

He feels tensions familiar and new as he feels the pleasure in stretching his body to its limits. The hem of his shirt sits just a bit higher on him, exposing his thin waist and small treasure trail as his stomach grumbles once more. Alright already, he thinks as he throws together a meal and starts playing the game once more, just walking around and seeing what all the game has to offer. On the horizon he sees villages and castles that pique his interest as he struggles within his mind not to get too invested, he doesn’t want to throw money at this game.

Beginning his mindless grind for XP once more as he levels up his soreness starts to arise once more as he grumbles and adjusts his position. The couch creaks as his weight ever so slightly begins to increase, before once more his stomach demands his attention. “Jesus Christ! Why am I so hungry!?” He finds his blood starts to race as the irritation starts to rise. Perhaps he should give the game a rest. Deciding against having another meal he opts for junk and grabs a pint of ice cream. He’ll just hit the gym tomorrow.

Picking up a book he is taken aback as he realizes that thought just pushed itself into his mind. He has no gym membership, he’s never had one? He must have meant he’ll go for an, uh, hike or something? To distract his mind from that oddity he turns to start his book, quickly finishing his pint of ice cream as he struggles to sink his teeth into this book he thought he liked? He was quite invested last time he picked it up but at the moment he finds himself picking up and checking his phone an inordinate amount. His mind keeps thinking back to Enki’s muscular body as he impatiently taps his foot. He can’t seem to sit comfortably on the couch, be it the soreness or a rising anxiety in his body at sitting and reading this boring book. Ah, this book he quite liked, rather. He groans in irritation, and closes his eyes as he tries to work out what is going on with him.

Soon enough though, distraction arrives as Jack calls. “Dude you’ve gotta play more to get me my pull.” Erik opens his mouth to answer before noticing Jack sounds off, he asks, “Do you have a cold?”

He scoffs, “Erik, c’mon bro you just gotta get to level ten so we can both get good!” Erik again pauses as he listens closer to the other line, Jack is clearly amped about something more than this stupid little game, he then hears a familiar slapping sound and a deep grunt come from his friend and he calls out, “Jack dude! What? Are you mast-” Jack quickly interrupts him, “Chill bro of course not! Just, just uh. Here watch this level up thing and you’ll do it super fast, trust.”

The line goes dark as Jack apparently hangs up before sending a link to an ad for Erik to watch. Refusing to engage with the fact he was pretty sure his friend was masturbating just now he plays the ad and is shocked to find out it's for a partnership with a local gym!? His head sears with pain as he struggles to think of how weird this paired with him thinking about the gym earlier, but he is unable to make that leap as his eyes drink in muscular men pumping iron at the gym. It ends with a message saying players get a month trial. “God that’s bizarre.” 

He grimaces once more as he changes into pajamas and jumps into bed before taking advantage of his level up boost. He starts completing missions and defeating mobs as he approaches level ten at a rapid pace. He doesn't notice as his pajamas catch weird on his body as he lies there, his feet suddenly sticking out from beyond the blankets as he flexes his toes, not feeling as they surge a bit larger. As soon as he hits the milestone he lets out something between a yawn and a groan as he stretches, not noticing as he echoes deeper than he has ever sounded before. He finds no comfort in rest as he quickly drifts to sleep, his body tossing and turning in bed as he accidentally leaves his phone on, leaving Enki to accrue passive experience as continues to level up well into the night.

The root of Erik’s soreness makes itself apparent as he shifts in his bed, muscle starting to make itself known through his increasingly tight pajamas. He sweats completely through his clothes and leaves a deep pile of drool on his pillow as, unaware to him, he starts getting hard in his sleep as his cock grows larger than he has ever seen it before, his balls growing larger and hanging lower as he dreams of open fields and intense fights.

After no time at all however he wakes up with a start rocketing sweat into the room and tearing his pajama top. He is absolutely raring with energy that he needs to make use of. Before that though he sees a notification on his phone. Oh yeah, he didn’t use his pull did he. He smirks as he wonders what kind of hero he is to get next as he clicks through to roll hsi new character. As the light glimmers once more he hears a familiar grunt though as Enki once more dervishes with an ax through villains.

There is a slight disappointment in him as he sees he has somehow gotten this standard barbarian once more. Though seeing his stats improve as he now apparently has two starts sets him right as rain. His pulse races with excitement as he imagines how much better he will be. He quickly jumps out of bed, not noticing his pajama pants now rest at his mid-calf, and throws on some clothes to race to the gym to get his apparent free membership.

He neglects to take an uber or a bus however as he instead just starts to jog to the gym, not pulling up directions either as he somehow is able to intuit his way. In a lingering act of curiosity at what other heroes he could have pulled he clicks through the mages and thieves and smirks as he is suddenly glad he didn’t get such weak looking characters. He feels his shoes tighten as his feet surge larger once more carrying him to his destination. Besides denigrating the classes he usually enjoys playing he finds his eyes also catch on one named “Sir Gilgar” some kinda kingly paladin type who is apparently close with Enki. He tilts his head with interest at this man as he arrives at the gym.

Standing still he suddenly notices that he forgot to put on deodorant at home. He sniffs at his pits wondering how much of an issue it is to be, he definitely smells worse than usual, though it’s definitely not worth the trip back home. He is called over by the man at the front desk who bears an odd resemblance to the bear of a blacksmith from the game. “Yo bro! You play A.D.?” Erik nods his head as the receptionist continues, “Enki yeah?” Erik stumbles back in confusion, “Uh Erik actually?” to which the man just laughs “hah, oh yeah that’s what I meant. You’re friend told me you might be in.”

There is then an arm around Erik's shoulder, though heavier and higher than any of his friends could possibly have. Before he can turn to see however he notices that his less than pleasant musk is immediately overshadowed by the stink coming from this pit right next to his face, and finds himself taken aback once more as he is jealous, at the stink, whispering “what the fuck?” as he turns to this mammoth of a man. 

The man before him is, familiar? He squints his eyes as he sees the chiseled chin and long wavy hair. Ah that’s why, he looks just like that paladin Erik just saw in game doesn’t he what was his name? “Gilgar?”

The man smiles and laughs heartily, a deep rumble that makes Erik blush as he looks down and pats him on the back. “Huhuh no bro,it’s me Jack! Thanks for downloadin’ the game dude it’s really helped me get uh, bigger? Yeah, huhuh! I was playin’ it all night.” Erik continues to stare the man up and down, struggling to find anything to reconcile that this is his friend Jack. As he does so though his memories quickly change as he hungrily stares at his defined chest and weighty biceps, this is actually what Sir Jack’s always looked like though? He then shakes his head to respond, “yeah I can tell dude, you certainly didn’t shower.” 

“Huh” Jack grunts as he raises his arm to smell his pit, exposing a deep bush that Erik can’t help but stare in to with a hungry jealousy. He laughs once more, this time though there is something more sinister in it as Erik realizes that he has been staring down back at him the entire time, with something ulterior in his eyes. Before he can start to inquire or investigate what that is though Jack messes with his hair and heads for the showers, “why don’t you go and get started Erik, gonna need a lotta work to catch up with me huhuh!” 

He turns and leaves Erik alone, as he feels a fire burn in his chest. He should use this. Erik puts the game away as he throws on a workout playlist and he starts going all out lifting weights and going at the machines. He doesn't wonder how he so perfectly knows how to carry his body and expertly perform flawless exercise at every turn. He smirks as his pulse continues to race as he goes all out to try and sculpt his body like Gilgar, er Jack did. There is an itch on Erik’s chest as he does so, hope it’s not a rash he thinks as he continues about the workout. He scratches at it as below his shirt hair begins to push out in the middle of his pecs. It swirls around aiming to cover them entirely as a similar itch starts winding his way up his stomach as his treasure trail expands thicker and darker, rising higher to connect his pubes to his increasingly expansive chest hair. The music on his phone changes without his notice to the songs from the game. Enki’s theme starts to rise in pitch as his grunts deepen with every thrust and pull of his workout. The deepest itch yet starts to emerge in his pits as he throws weights down to scratch at them  His hands absolutely rank with his pit sweat as he brings his hand to his nose and smirks as he looks down to his darker hair, smirking as he already feels more like a man.

Erik then has the brilliant idea that if he switches to the treadmill where he’ll be able to play the game while still getting his blood pumping. Once he sets the treadmill going and pulls out the app, ignoring a picture sent from his friend, he sees that after starting his membership he has gotten another pull in game. He crosses his fingers this time desiring nothing more than to get himself, no, his Enki once more. He could not care about the improbability of it all as after the bright flash he hears the familiar grunt of Enki as he whispers under his breath along, still racing faster than he’s ever run before on this treadmill.

As he elevates his hero to three stars he finds himself running even faster on the treadmill. His stomps growing heavier as he continues to race faster and faster on the machine without lifting a finger or pushing a button to speed it up. He exhales through his nose like a bull as he feels his blood course through him, spreading a heat through the whole of his body. He clenches the arms of the treadmill just to exert further force upon it as his vision begins to grow red as he begins to outpace the fastest setting on the treadmill. Tears appear in his shoes and his thighs burst larger, absolutely tearing his shorts to shreds as he slams step after step into the track of the machine. He grasps at the knob of the treadmill trying to ratchet it faster than it’s max to little avail. 

His blood burns in his veins as he twists the button off the shoddy machine and every muscle in his body tenses and surges larger as he feels rage become impossible to control, displacing every thought in his mind. His shirt strains and then bursts as his chest flexes larger exposing the newly hairy curls on his still growing pecs as each expansive breath surges deeper and heavier. 

He strains to restrain himself  from enacting violence in the middle of the gym as he sees his phone fall to the floor, somehow midway through yet another pull without his input. He feels spit on his chin dripping through a beard he didn’t even notice he started growing as he breathes through his clenched teeth. It begins to push out even further, his jaw itching deeply from every angle as his stubble becomes a dense beard, thicker than he would have thought ever possible as Enki’s familiar theme begins to blare from the phone dropped on the floor. 

He pants as he struggles to hold back his rage though as the seconds pass he starts to wonder why he would ever do so, he is En- no he is Erik. He is a formidable, ugh. He clenches at his head as his legs push him higher into the air. He sees thick veins surge down his arms as they force themselves larger, hair darkening them up from his wrist and spreading up his biceps as his chest hair spreads to connect to his dense pits. His body begins to shake with the rage barely restrained.

At this moment there is once more a friendly arm around his shoulder and a familiar musk immediately breaks through his mindless anger as he turns to see his friend. His rival? It is not worth interrogating, he closes his eyes and smells the musk of his long companion Sir Gilgar. He turns to look him directly in the eyes, finding himself directly at eye level despite being well below it when he first stepped into the gym. There is a cocky smirk plastered on his face as if he were used to being the most impressive man in the room. Erik finds himself readily agreeing with this assessment, as long as of course Enki himself does not hold the position, shaking his head as he flexes groans as his body struggles to expand even further. 

Erik shakes back to reality as he sees that Sir Gilgar has been talking to him, his eyes inscrutibly somewhere between a haughtiness and a hunger as he continues, “Sorry Enki are you not listening?” Erik feels his check burn and he groans as he responds, “I, I am Erik not ugh.” He feels his mind grow confused as he sees his friend, his bedfellow in front of him. Thoughts fly through his head from two worlds and he struggles to remember who, Erik is.

Seeing Erik’s eyes grow blank as drool begins to pool in his mouth Gilgar kneels to grab the phone and begins tapping through the menus of the game. Taking a moment to stare and smirk at his own reflection in the screen before navigating to a purchase menu for Erik. He sees the bulge in Erik’s shredded pants begin to grow heavier as he hands his phone to him and asks, “Why not get this over with Enki, just embrace it. Don’t you want to be with me? All you need to do is hit one button.”

Erik’s eyes blast back to focus as he grunts and his cock surges even larger in his underwear at the thought of being with the man in front of him. Without a thought he purchases one last pull and doesn’t even watch as he knows what is to occur. He feels his pulse begin to race as an itch spreads through his veins, every tendon and muscle in his body warms as he almost vibrates with energy. Gilgar leads him to the locker room as he continues to convulse and grow.

Memories of his life before this game fade without contest as he recalls life as Enki, the barbarian, the warrior. Pride surges through him as he remembers countless victories and the beyond countless days of training to ensure this. He recalls being the pride of his village, of his people, of Sir Gilgar’s eye. He remembers the fateful day they met and the wrestling match that ensued, the contest that locked them together ever more, and the subsequent wrestling matches that devolved into something even more primal.

These memories continue to surge into his head as he continues to follow his companion into the locker room. His suddenly confused at why he is in such a bizarre place, he is a warrior is he not? Enki scratches at his pit and sniffs the musty air before deciding not to care, thinking was more his friend’s purview. The only thing he is truly concerned about at the moment is the increasing weight in his crotch. Seeing Gilgar start to disrobe in the corner of this tiled room Enki’s lust grows beyond any ability to fight it as he pounces, not even thinking to remove his underwear as his cock pushes beyond the bounds anyway. The two then begin wrestling as they often do before it turns into the frotting that it always does these days.

Enki does not know or care for the game that he awoke obsessed with this morning. Nor will he ever again. In fact there are few things at all as he prefers to do anything but think. Though somewhere beyond his rage, beyond his lust, he will be grateful for that link sent by his companion for it has allowed him to experience truly mindless pleasure evermore.

[imsrtman]

Actually, They're Called Tetrominoes

Been holding out on some kinda Video Game trigger, here's a bit of an odd Russian cultural/racial TF, enjoy! -Occam

Michael could stand to be a more pleasant person. Day to day he is a pretty run of the mill head-down kinda guy, amicable but never really goes out his way to chat or make friends. Instead he finds his free time often used to prowl the internet looking for people to torment online in whatever way he finds funny at the moment. Born too late to be a goon on SomethingAwful he typically pages through Reddit threads and communities looking for someone sensitive or cartoonishly argumentative.

This is precisely where he finds himself tonight, being a pedant on some video game thread that he doesn’t truly care about. Some presumably Russian user, u/ZandrIvnov, seems to be quite proud of Tetris which Michael finds incredibly amusing. As an American he too takes pride in many of the cultural exports and ideas that his nation has sent into the world, including many of the deeply entrenched ideas about the Russian and Soviet people taught in world history. It takes especially little for him to decide to start taunting and baiting this man sitting at his keyboard a world away.

Michael launches petty taunts at the Russian, poking fun at his nationality and Eastern Europe at large, stopping short at making fun of the man’s less than perfect English, for now at least. Michael switches between accounts to upvote his responses and even add additional dunks on the Tetris-fan as needed. Try as he might though to get the conversation away from the ancient game and get some more personal and profane digs in there he finds it difficult to find any truly satisfying or clever insults.

Getting tired of hearing this man assert Russian superiority he prepares to pull the ripcord and move on before he sees the Russian misstep talking about the game he’s so invested in, as probably the only fun fact he has on deck comes to mind. After the Russian so eloquently compares Michael’s head to a Tetris piece Michael immediately replies, “okay lol big fan huh they’re actually called tetrominoes” and then moves on to find some other doofus to bully on the internet.

On the other side of the screen Sasha seethes at the man, so juvenile in his mockery “Проклятые американцы. (Fucking Americans.)” He takes to his own keyboard messaging Michael directly as his arrogant messages dry up in the thread proper, Sasha was going to have him put his money where his mouth was. He offers a challenge, “u americans are so proud da? how about we see whos country rly is the best”

Michael felt his pulse rise in excitement at how much he has truly bothered this man. Smug smile on his face as he types his response, “what did u have in mind, Zander?”

“Саша(Sasha) is my name. since u are so smart about tetris, why not see who is actual master of game da?” Sasha offers, knowing already that the troll is sure to accept out of pride alone. Michael wasn’t all that much of a gamer but surely he could show this dweeb what’s what yeah? He starts looking up tips to win Tetris as he replies “sure whatever dude, what are u thinkin”

Sasha smirks as he has Michael right where he wants him, “loser agrees with winner about national superiority? should not be problem if you americans are so good at every thing” Michael was already eager to give it a go and Sasha’s taunt only makes him all the more raring to go. Before he can even pause his meager attempt to study strategy, Sasha sends over a link to the game and Michael clicks over to play, leaving the cheat sheet open on a second monitor. 

Michael types his name into the game and finds himself looking at a familiar screen. He’s never played the game competitively but it’s a pretty simple game right? He just needs to keep his cool once the pieces start flying in. He gets the cheeky idea to check the cheat sheet in between pieces. That’s that good-old red white and blue ingenuity, Michael thinks. Unaware that these are of course also of the Russian flag. There’s a ping from the board as Sasha uses the in game chat to ask “u understand the rules da”

Michael sends back a thumbs up and Sasha sets the game going. It is predictably uneventful at the beginning, neither man making any particularly interesting plays. Michael continues to skim how to best cheat the game while Sasha waits for the perfect moment to fuck him over. Michael finds himself enjoying the game more than he thought he would as he hears the familiar tune, it is awfully catchy isn’t it? He’s gotta hand it to the soviets for that. His gameplay slows down as he tries to speedread the page on his other monitor. Instead of forcing pieces quickly he instead lets them drift slowly while his board is relatively clear. Sasha sees this and decides to go in for the kill.

Suddenly as Michael’s eyes wander away from the game for just a second too long there is an unfamiliar sound. He darts his attention back only to see the floor of his Tetris board rocket up in response to Sasha doing an impossibly well timed combo of lines. Michael’s heartbeat increases at a shocking rate in response as losing becomes a very real possibility. Why is he so upset? His face grows red as he realizes just how outclassed he is. Obviously this is no big deal right? Just a game. But Michael cannot help but feel physically uncomfortable as the tides start to turn so swiftly. 

There is suddenly a crick in his neck that he stretches to avail but only exacerbates as a soreness begins to spread further across his body. Man is he tensing up too much? It’s just, it’s just a game right? Trying to calm down he is hit with the thought as if it were a shot of adrenaline that he absolutely cannot lose this game. His eyebrows furrow as they begin to square and thicken, casting dark shadows over his rage-filled eyes. His limbs take turns cramping as he clenches his neck and jaw to distract from the pane, not noticing as the structure of his face begins to change. 

His chest grows to join the chorus of muscle spasms as Michael struggles to keep up with even Sasha’s slower gameplay. Across the seas Sasha takes his time, knowing victory is in the bag, and savoring what he knows must be happening to his little troll Michael right now. He smirks as he imagines the discomfort in Michael’s changing body as he feels warmth grow in his own chest, and crotch, as he decides just how much he wants to play with his food. 

Back in the states Michael finds the heat, the sweat, the tightness of his clothes increasingly unbearable. As he continues to mash buttons on his remote he is too intent on the game to notice as hair begins to darken around his forearms and begin to snake its way towards his hands. He rubs them each down to placate the tickle on his growing arms. This is absolutely nothing to the creeping itch that is starting to encompass the entirety of his rapidly expansive legs. He shifts his heavier thighs trying to soothe the discomfort, making a loud sound as they pull away from the sweat sticking them to the chair but not allaying the soreness or itch in the slightest.

He grunts and notices not how his voice has grown both deeper and gruffer in his throat. Michael struggles to keep the remote from slipping out of his hands as sweat trickles down from his hairy arms and into his palms. Before it becomes a problem however Michael takes advantage of the lull in Sasha’s gameplay and tries to quickly remove his far too strained shirt. It should be a simple task after all, just put the remote down for a second, slide it off, and then back to the game. He does a brief check in to ensure he has even that and after believing he does Michael starts to try and remove the shirt strained and sticking to his skin.

He has precious little time as the pieces continue to fall at their set pace in game. He gets one hand under the hem of his shirt and tries to wrench it while keeping his other hand on the controller, this lets in a breeze of cold air sending quivers of pleasure across his pulsating muscle, as well as igniting a burning ache in his chest and torso. His upper body grows even further, finally overfilling his shirt as the sound of tears ring out in his bedroom alongside the same repetitive folk song he knows well. The idea that this shirt was loose fitting when he threw it on this morning or that he just identified the Tetris theme as a folk song rather than an 8-bit annoyance don’t have a chance to come to mind as he struggles to remain focused on not losing the game.

He pulls the shirt up to his chest before it gets uncomfortably stuck “Ach, bog uh- god damnit.” He scratches at his chest as the soreness and growing muscle makes way for a fiery prickling as the few chest hairs he has been a tad ashamed of begin to thicken and darken on his chest. Swirling out from his nipples and inching higher on his chest with each breath, he continues to struggle to remove himself mindlessly. Finding his shirt caught on his expansive pecs he rubs his hand underneath it across his sweaty chest, and finding it pleasurably drag through more hair on his pecs than he would’ve sworn he had in his pubes, he resolves to remove the shirt however he can. 

As soon as he finishes a line Michael tosses the remote down and goes to raise his shirt above his head, his thicker arms struggling as they adjust to their new range of motion. He wrests the tight shirt above his head, his chest bursting large once more, freed from the garment as the breeze tickles the sweat covered chest hair and forces his enlarged nipples to harden. Having overcome his suddenly massive pecs the neckline is now caught on his chin, his arms raised high above his head expose his pits to the cold open air. He feels the air con blow against his recently shaved pits as the hair begins to grow back. It starts to catch as the hair begins to grow thicker and longer than it had ever done before, curling together as new hairs begin to push out and form a bush thick enough to never see the skin beneath again.

This also brings his attention to new development in his body, with his face shoved into his shirt it would be impossible not to notice the unbecoming amount of sweat soaking it. Arms raised though he finally notices that he has an altogether far more powerful scent, on par with a macro-obsessed body builder or hygiene-phobic wild man. Michael feels a beard start to push out into the shirt still hugging his face. Shaving once a month was more than enough to keep him clean shaven but now he knew deep in his mind that he would never have a day again where his face would be smooth. It’s that Ru- That American blood in him, right?

He begins to feel himself lost in the scent as his mind begins to grow distracted, attention fading from the game despite the looping tune filling his mind. He turns his head to smell his pits through his shirt which is when he hears the dreaded sound of Sasha making a combo once more, “Gah! Nyo, I can’t lose” he shouts, not noticing as his rough tone begins to develop a slight accent. Ending the long-standing struggle against his shirt he simply rips it off and jumps for the controller, ashamed at how foolish and lustful he has suddenly found himself in the middle of this all-important competition.

He needs to make his people proud! He cannot let Amerika down, ya? His focus and vision return to the game as he stumbles through one more line before all the pieces fall from view and the game declares Sasha the winner. Mikael reflexively pounds his table shouting, “Ny- no! I, this!” struggling to find any words to make his loss okay. Unable to notice just how bizarre this game has affected him, though sure that something grave has occurred. He scrambles to the chat box where he sees Sasha has yet again beaten him to the punch, “gg Брат(brother) yes?”

Mikael’s eyes don’t even notice the language switch in the message as he quickly races to demand a rematch. Punching keys slower than the career-cyberbully is accustomed to, almost as if he would be more comfortable with a different keyboard format, slowly he punches his response “one more best dva out of tri ya?” Sasha laughs out loud seeing Mikael suddenly typing out anglicized Russian. He smirks and squeezes his crotch in excitement at just how far this American brat has fallen into his hands. Sasha responds in full Russian knowing that Mikael may as well already be his countryman. “конечно, почему бы и нет, брат (sure why not, brother)”

Mikael smiles as he prepares for yet another go against Sasha, he’s eager to learn from his, uh? Suddenly he can’t quite remember how he knows Sasha exactly as his memories of his persistent pathetic history of being a troll begins to fade from his mind. As the Tetris theme starts once more with the game Mikael finds himself singing along as the words to the folk song it is based on, blushing at the vulgarity therein.

The race is on once more and though he was sure this was a competition against his friend, no, his брат(brother), Sasha, He can’t help but feel a giddiness as the game progresses. He feels a warmth in his chest just from playing a game of his childhood, of his country? No he’s a born and bred statesman da? He’s from, uh Moscow is a city in one of the states too da? Though he finds himself distracted his body continues to expertly control the game subconsciously.

He blushes as he struggles to remember where he grew up, it was a smaller town for sure. Somewhere very far North for sure, after all why else would he grow so hairy! He launches into a hearty laugh as body hair continues to push out from every pore in his body, sure to be peaking out from every shirt collar on both sides. He scratches at his pubes as it becomes clear that even besides his massive package there will evermore be a bulge in his pants from this unkept jungle as well. 

His eyes continue to follow the pieces up and down as they slowly begin to lighten and bleach themselves an icy blue. The itchiness that has made itself at home through the whole of its body is replaced with a burning pleasure as he thinks oh his home. Full days where there is only sun, long treks into the city to visit St. Basil’s, helping his mother fry pirozhki. The hair atop his head bleaches itself a sandy blonde while still thickening and pulling itself short as a lightbulb goes off in his head his voice rumbles in his chest as he reflexively speaks in what must be his mother tongue, “Конечно! я спрошу у Саши (Of course! I’ll just ask Sasha).” 

He goes to pause the game as he now knows he can do and types to Sasha in chat, “hey брат, wher am i от again?” Sasha smirks at just how easy this was stopping short from fully masturbating as he thinks of his new massive countryman living a world away as he replies, “недалеко от Москвы, Миша (just outside of Moscow, Misha).”

Misha’s eyes glaze over as he reads this, the room around him changes, American flags familiar patterns shift into the Russian tricolor. Any writing within the room shifts from English to the cyrillic alphabet and Misha sits there with a smile as he recalls his home. Long winters working alongside his best friend Sasha. His neck thickens and his waist expands as he thinks of long nights drinking alongside his friends to abate the cold. The game of Tetris continues on and he again feels a warmth in his chest at the chance to play with his dearest Друг(friend) Sasha.

For the life of him he can’t quite remember why he has moved to Америки though he is sure that Sasha will know. Sasha always knows the right thing to do. One thing is for sure though, he is going to do his Motherland proud.

[imsrtman]

Master

It had only been a week since the last time I had seen him, so why is my normally scrawny dorm mate and best bro standing in front of me… changed?

Rufus had always been an… interesting kind of guy. Not that that’s a bad thing, it’s just… he’s always been a little different from the rest of us bros. Can’t hate him though, known that guy since Elementary School. He’s a brother to me. He’s always been shy, quieter than the other bros in our group so was no surprise to me when he came out as gay. Of course I had no problem with it, just cause I’m a straight jock doesn’t mean i’m an asshole! Anyways, it didn’t change anything between us and we respected each other’s boundaries since he was my best friend. But the dude in front of me right now, that’s not my bro.

“Dudeeee Spring Break was so sick! It was totally life changing man, when I went on that trip with my fam I found this little plant and dude ever since I touched it I just feel brand new, you feel?” Rufus rambled on, saying this as he relaxed back against the dorm wall, revealing his bushy pits.

Instantly this smell hit my nose, catching me by surprise. Usually Rufus was this clean freak who made sure he smelled like roses and babies and shit, even making sure I washed up properly. He hated stink! “Rufus-“

“Nahhh man just call me Roof, that names sooo uptight!” he briefly interrupted.

“Alright Roof…” I paused, adjusting to the name, “I mean you do look brand new, and you’re acting well brand new too? Haven’t you seen yourself?”

A confused look spread across his face, “Aw thanks bro! I’m happy you finally brought up the ‘stache — I’ve been growin’ it out! And I think maybe I’m just more chill cuz of spring break, still pretty relaxed now y’know?”

Now I was the one confused. “Bro do you really not notice anything different about yourself?”

My best friend seemed concerned for me now, “You trippin’ bro? I mean I’m the same old Roof as always?”

This was driving me nuts. One, my best friend, who is normally a scrawny, nerdy guy looks like if you took him and turned him into huge dumb muscular oaf. Two, he stinks, which Rufus never does. And three, he doesn’t notice anything different?”

“Hey man,” The man who says he’s Rufus but ISN’T Rufus slowly said, “You seem a little stressed. Maybe you just gotta chill out, like me…” I looked up a smile slowly start to creep across his dumb face and suddenly, the entire room felt… damp.

In the sense of both wet and humid… and also kind of heavy. Almost like… my brain was slowing down… growing kinda tired… it was so hot in here… and it smells so bad… so fucking stinky. Pushing through this… trying to open up… window…

As I sluggishly made my way over to the dorm room window and reached to open it, Roof spoke commandingly, “Nah man leave it closed.”

I stopped in my tracks. My body wasn’t moving anymore. I was frozen. A wave of panic and anxiety washed over me, what the hell was going on??

I was able to move my eyes, glancing over to Roof as terror filled my mind. “Don’t worry, you’re okay bro. Just come on over here” he beckoned with his a motion of his hand.

Suddenly all the worry in my mind vanished and I felt perfectly fine, other than the odor in the room. I held in my breath as I made my way over to Roof the smell becoming more and more pungent as I drew closer. I stopped in front of him, looking him in the eye I noticed there was an aura of confidence in them I didn’t recognize.

“You don’t like the smell bro? C’mon just try it. Breathe in it for a second,” Roof urged, scratching his wiry pit hair, causing more odor to escape from the bush.

My tensed muscle instantly relaxed, following his suggestion. I closed my eyes and began to breathe in the putrid odor his body was emanating. It smelled like cheese, eggs, sweat, farts, and protein — everything the locker room does after a long practice. Weirdly enough, I could pick up on some hidden notes, a taste of spice and the tropics. Even weirder, I started to like it. I could feel sweat drip from my brow, the room getting much stuffier and hotter. I began to take in deeper breaths, the mix of Roof’s stink and oxygen clouding my mind as I tried to keep myself from passing out.

“That’s it bro… keep breathing it in. Keep breathing me in.”

I opened my eyes to find my body had slumped to the ground, muscles weak and on my knees in front of Roof. The weight of the air around us kept me on the ground, I could barely muster the strength to get up or even move. He was looking down at me with a face full of pride and a sense of dominance. I felt… content.

He ripped off his sweat soaked wifebeater, tearing through it easily with his muscles. Tossing the shreds ti the side, he began to flex his bicep right above my face and suddenly another wave of must hit me. This time however it was stronger, even more mind-fucking, like inhaling him straight from the source. Droplets of his salty sweat began to fall on my face, one by one, and all feelings of disgust went out the window. Without command, I closed my eyes, opened my mouth, and stuck my tongue out to catch them. I heard Roof let out a dumb chuckle from above as he watched with content. I could feel my dick hardening in my shorts. I didn’t care. I didn’t care how gay this was, how stupid and weak I look on my knees, all I cared about was this.

As the foreign liquid fell into my mouth, my eyes shot open with disgust. The taste was sweet, putrid, salty, like spoiled juice left in a dumpster out in the rain and yet so addicting. The couple droplets I had tasted acted as an energy shot as I jumped up off my knees and brought my tongue straight into his hairy armpits. Grabbing his onto his flexed bicep for support, I raked my tongue across the bushy coils and wet skin, taking in every rancid flavor and droplet. Taking a deep breath in of his stink, the smell was heavenly now. I couldn’t live without it. A warm feeling began to fill my stomach as I lapped up more of his sweat while my mind became completely fogged as I huffed his musk. I could feel my rock hard boner was straining against my shorts, begging to be let go.

“Good boy,” Roof whispered into my ear. Almost like a trigger word for some sleeper agent, I slumped back onto my knees as my mind went blank and my eyes glossed over.

It was some dream state. Indescribable. Pure bliss. I couldn’t hear or see anything, just blurbs and slight movements. I picked up on bits of what Roof was saying. I could hear him pacing around me in the small dorm room. “Finally … waited all these years … in love with you … but you … straight … can’t handle … anymore … now you’re mine.”

With those final words my eyes fluttered open. I was on my knees on the floor of my dorm room. I looked up and there he was. Master was standing in front of me.

“Who’s a good boy?” He smirked as he began pulling his sweatpants down — he wasn’t wearing any underwear.

His pubes created a blanket of dark grass from which his cock sprouted from and balls hung. I stared at it intently, like a dog eyeing a meat stick hungrily. It was thick and girthy, like an uncut sausage hanging downwards and from the scent I was picking up, I could tell I was going to find a treasure trove of cheese if I rolled back the skin. His balls were perfect, filled with my master’s seed. I had one purpose, please him.

I wrapped my lips around his manhood and began to go to town, bobbing my head up and down. I rolled back the skin to reveal his perfect head and I assumed correctly. I looked up at my Master with happiness as he smirked, placing his hands in my hair as he guided me down the shaft. I swirled my tongue as I went down, picking up all the cheesy goodness and tasting every flavor imaginable. With ease I made it down to his pubes, his 10 inches in my throat — Master trained me well. I sniffed his musky carpet before my master’s hands pushed me back to the tip of his cock. Rinse and repeat, each with a different level of feverish desire. Master bobbed me up and down his dick, using me as nothing more than a toy. I didn’t care. I loved it. I could feel his tangy pre-cum as it started to lubricate the inside of my mouth, preparing for the arrival of his seed. I rolled my eyes back from pure pleasure of his taste. Back - forth - back - forth, he continuously thrust into my mouth and down my throat, gripping my hair like handles. I felt nothing more than ecstasy when he treated me this way. Finally I could feel his cock twitch in my mouth, and he slowed his pace allowing me to catch my breath and regain some autonomy in the situation. I wrapped both my hands around his shaft, the girth akin to a coke can, and placed my lips on his tip and began to suck again. Almost as if beckoning the seed to spout from the hole, my master’s hot moans escaped his mouth, telling me I should go on. With one final pop, his seed exploded into my mouth, filling me with the highest honor of being his slave.

He continuously pumped into my mouth groaning loudly as he did so, it had to have been seven or eight times until he finally had run out. Similar to his sweat, I could feel this warm sensation as his seed slipped down my throat as I swallowed his load. Suddenly I felt my form begin to change. I jutted my ass backwards, feeling it expand and balloon with the perfect amount of muscle and fat to keep my Master satisfied. I flexed my thighs as they grew meatier while my hips widened to bear Master’s children. Sweat dripped between my cheeks and into my crack, tickling and stimulating my asshole, beginning what would soon be my life long yearning for cock to fill my hole. I was becoming perfectly sculpted to my Master’s desires, and I was so happy.

My head throbbed with pain as memories and intelligence, anything I knew about myself for the past 20 years of my life was dissolved into my balls. I could feel my erection becoming harder and harder and my balls churning until I blew my load, all over the dorm floor. Almost instantly after, the dick I once used to conquest women turned into a pathetic excuse for a manhood. The sensation in my body dissipated and my muscles relaxed, cementing my physique and rendering my dick at an almost unusable state. That’s okay, I won’t need it.

“Tsk tsk tsk. Bad boy… look at what you did to my floor.” I heard Master’s voice scolding me from above.

I hung my head low with embarrassment as I got on all fours and groveled at his smelly feet, “I’m so sorry Master, please forgive me.”

As I looked back up, I could see as Master Roof grabbed his cock and jerked it, and suddenly he was back at full mast. I licked my lips with both hunger and happiness, looks like he was in a good mood today.

He smirked when he saw the lust in my eyes, “Let’s see how many loads it’ll take to get you pregnant.”

[imsrtman]

You were excited to be on a date with this really cute guy you’d met online. He was a baby-faced lanky guy and had really cute dimples which appeared every time he smiled your way. The two of you had seemed to be hitting it off, chatting away at the restaurant where you’d met up. Towards the end of the date, you’d started to consider inviting him back to your place for the night.

Putting on your best smile, you decided to take your shot. “So,” you grinned, “wanna watch a movie at my place?”

Your date smiled gently and fidgeted in his seat a little. “Um,” he began, “look, you’re really nice and all, but I kinda prefer older guys.”

You cocked your eyebrow, a little confused by what he was saying. You worked out frequently and took great care of your body, your large muscles straining against your clothes. You had a killer smirk and thick black hair that lots of guys admired, so you weren’t exactly used to being shot down. “But I am older than you,” you pointed out.

Your date shrugged his thin shoulders. “Yeah, but by only one year,” he countered.

You laughed and shook your head, not wanting to go back to your apartment alone for the night. “Just gimme a shot,” you offered. “I’m sure I can win you over.”

Your date pursed his lips in thought before smiling to himself. With a flick of his wrist, he nodded. “Yeah, I guess we can see about that,” he grinned widely, running his eyes up and down your form.

There was an electric tingling in the air and the tiny hairs on your arms stood up for a brief moment. As quickly as it had appeared, it disappeared, so you shook it off.

The two of you continued with smalltalk as you waited for the waiter to bring you the bill. You couldn’t help but notice that there was a little deeper quality to your voice, like it was a little rougher than usual. No matter how many times you cleared your throat, it stayed like that. Plus, your shirt felt really tight and you were certain that if you took in a deep breath, some of the buttons would’ve burst.

“Here you guys go,” the waiter said as he set the bill down onto the table. He straightened up and looked between you and your smiling date. “You know, I think it’s really cute that you took your son out for dinner.” With that, he walked away.

“Son?”  you almost laughed incredulously before turning to your date. “See? I guess he can see the little age difference between us…”

Your deeper voice trailed off as you reached for the bill, your eyes widening at the sight of your hand. You brought it closer to your face, turning it around as you examined the withered skin that was a lot more calloused and wrinkled than normal.

“What the fuck?” you gasped, flinching when the top button of your shirt finally popped off and shot across the table towards your date who was smiling devilishly.

Without another word, you shot out of your seat and hurried over to the bathroom, noting how your pants even felt tighter as you moved. Once you made it, you rushed over to the mirror, your stomach dropping at the refection staring back at you.

Gone was the youthful, twenty-two year old jock, and in his place was a muscled up daddy who had to have been in his fifties or even sixties. Your black hair was gray and even the dark stubble along your chin had turned into a bright white. With shaky hands, your ran your fingers over the much larger muscles which bulged dangerously against your clothes which looked like they were about to burst at any moment. Your pecs were a lot fuller and your biceps curled to epic proportions at the slightest movement. Although it looked like you’d miraculously aged an extra thirty or forty years, you also appeared to have packed on some serious muscle.

The bathroom door opened and your date sauntered in, his eyes hungrily running up and down your older form. “Hey there, Daddy,” he smirked. “You ran off so quickly, I came to make sure you were okay.”

“Wh-what happened to me?” you panicked, your heart racing in your buff chest. You couldn’t look away from your reflection, forced to stare at the muscled, silver daddy you’d been turned into. You barely recognized yourself— there was no way your friends or even college professors would remember you at all. You were no longer the partying jock, you were now a much older DILF.

You date approached and ran an admiring hand over your larger pecs, toying with the hard nipple that poked through the thin fabric, sending electric shocks straight to your cock. Despite your fear, you felt so incredibly turned on as the younger man felt you up.

“I told you I was into older men,” your date responded. “I figured this way, we can enjoy the rest of our night together. What do you say, Daddy?”

A small part of you wanted to lash out at the years that been stolen away from you, but the longer you stared at the large outline of your hard cock that pressed against your jeans, the more turned on you felt. You couldn’t help but flex both of your bigger arms, relishing in the ripping sounds from your tight sleeves.

Despite everything, you felt yourself grin. “Fuck yeah,” you playfully growled, “Daddy’s gonna fuck you hard, Boy.”

[imsrtman]

Can you help me out? i love my boyfriend a lot, BUT, i also think his dad is super hot. what should i do?

You and your boyfriend had just gotten back to your place after a lovely date night. You enjoyed your time with your man, whom you truly love with all of your heart and you can imagine spending the rest of your life with, but there was one teeny tiny issue that lingered in the back of your mind:

You couldn’t help but make mental comparisons of your boyfriend with his dad. Whereas your boyfriend was skinny and youthful, his dad was a pure rugged man. Seriously, he oozed masculinity and looked like he belonged on the front packaging of a certain paper towel brand.

You’d almost drooled when your boyfriend had introduced you to him, and then started to get hopeful that your man had inherited his manly genes.

“It’s a little early still,” your boyfriend said, snapping you out of your daze. “It’d be a shame if it were to end.” He gave you a coy grin, making you laugh.

“Well, c’mere then,” you slyly responded, beckoning him towards the bed where you sat.

In a manner that was meant to be sexy, your boyfriend slowly began to unbutton his shirt, shimmying out of it when the both of you paused.

“What the…?” he wondered aloud as he ran a shaky hand over his flat chest, feeling the thick hairs that had magically sprouted over it.

Usually, your man was smooth, so the new chest hair was a jolt to you both. 

Before either of you could react, the hairs started to grow more, traveling out across his slender chest and down his stomach. It thickened over his limbs and even moved upwards to his neck and jaw, giving him some serious scruff.

Your boyfriend ran his hands over his new body hair in confusion, but then winced as soon as his body began to expand.

“What’s happening to me?!” he panicked, watching as all the muscles in his body ballooned.

Your boyfriend’s newly hairy pecs inflated and packed on size as they rounded out, protruding out in front of him. His little, pert nipples shuddered before they expanded and stuck out in large nubs. His shoulders broadened as his back widened, his arm muscles inflating too. Next, his legs grew bigger as his thighs widened, and calf muscles packed on more meat. The new size of his lower half ripped his pants to shreds, leaving the tattered denim to fall to his feet. This gave you an uninterrupted view of his cock, which lengthened out in spurts before it rocketed to attention, standing at an impressive eight inches.

Finally, you witnessed your boyfriend’s face become rougher as it matured. Slight wrinkles that were more indicative of experience appeared on his face as his lower jaw widened and squared out. As a last touch, his hair progressively lightened until it was a grayish color.

Where your cute boyfriend had stood mere seconds before was now his manly looking dad.

“What the hell…” your boyfriend, now in his dad’s body, muttered, shocked by the deeper quality of his voice. However, he also winced at how familiar it sounded.

In a hurry, he rushed over towards the bathroom (with you tailing behind), his hard cock bobbing in front of him the whole way. He slammed himself inside and looked in the mirror, paling at what he saw.

“Babe?” he asked in his deeper voice. “Why do I look like my dad?”

His meaty, hairy pecs heaved with panic as he explored his new daddy body. He ran his hands over his larger muscles in shock, confused by how good it felt to run his fingers through his new chest hair.

You couldn’t help it. You were so turned on by watching the man you loved turn into the man you lusted after. “I think you look great…” you smiled, “…Daddy.”

On cue, your boyfriend’s bigger cock twitched at the sound of you calling him Daddy.

Your boyfriend’s very smart, so it didn’t take much for him to put two and two together. Still, he was so insanely turned on in his new body, and he swung you over his broadened shoulder, carrying you towards the bedroom where you can explore his new daddy body.

[imsrtman]

Froy and Zane were the picturesque It Couple. Two young gay men who were unafraid to be affectionate in public was enough to bring social media into an applause.

The cutesy couple made out in the bedroom one night, getting ready for some sexy time when Froy paused.

He pulled back for a moment in confusion, having slid his hands up his boyfriend's shirt. "Um, Babe?" he asked. "Did you grow out your chest hair?" His fingers ran through a thick pelt of fur that seemingly covered Zane's pecs.

Zane looked back in confusion as well, having been naturally smooth for years. "No...?" he trailed off, looking downward at himself. His voice disappeared in his throat the second he saw the new chest hair curling over his collar. "What the hell?"

The second he looked down, Zane's eyes nearly popped out of his skull as he watched his pecs grow. The mounds seemingly inflated and rounded, the buttons on his shirt popping off as he grew. The hairy muscletits came into view as they burst out of his shirt, being capped with large, nubby nipples.

Not to be outdone, Zane's gut followed suit. His abs disappeared before his stomach grew outwards. His gut steadily inflated until he had a complete hairy muscle gut that protruded far out in front of him.

"Wh-what happened to me?" Zane panicked as his hands ran over his rotund belly. "I'm huge!"

Before Froy could attempt to comfort his larger boyfriend, flinched when he felt his own shirt begin to constrict around him. His jaw dropped when he looked down at himself, watching as his own chest inflated and grew hairy.

The two boyfriends could only watch in shock as they grew larger and much hairier. Their arms grew in size, their biceps packing on much more meat. They had to shift their stance on the bed as their asses inflated and rounded out, their thighs getting bigger too.

As a final touch, the boyfriends felt their faces start to itch as beards sprouted out over their smooth faces. Their baby faces were completely altered as wrinkle lines formed near their eyes and their cheeks even rounded out some more, their necks widening to account for their deeper voices that uttered from their beefier bodies.

"Babe, what happened to us?" Zane cried out in his deeper, baritone-filled voice.

"We look like daddies," Froy muttered as his hands explored his larger and much hairier body. Despite how freaked out his was over his mysterious transformation, the sight of his now older boyfriend with a large set of fuzzy pecs that rested atop a large musclegut turned him on.

"What?" Zane asked when he saw his dady of a boyfriend hungrily staring at him.

"You really make a sexy daddy," Froy playfully growled, reached over and running an admiring hand through his boyfriend's thick chest hair, pausing to thumb a nubby nipple.

Zane bellowed out a low moan and allowed to himself to be felt up by his larger boyfriend, totally succumbing to his new life as a large muscle daddy.

[imsrtman]

How about one where a frat boy turns into a lazy, slobby stereotypically dad. Maybe muscular but with a beer belly and barking out orders to his old frat bros. But instead of bringing him a beer, it's to suck his massive cock while he watches sports or Nascar.

When Coach told all the frat boys at the start of the year that he was giving up his position, most of them had scrambled for the opportunity to be the proverbial "Top Dog". The older man had commanded the respect of the numerous frat bros, each one looking up to the older man as one of their own-- and he must have been back in his prime. However, after years of no longer playing sports and drinking, the older man had gained a big belly and a layer of fat that covered his impressive musculature. Instead of looking like a strict athlete, Coach looked like a burly musclebear.

And when he'd announced that Trevor, the newest recruit on the baseball team, was going to be taking his place, the young jock had been ecstatic.

Trevor was brand new to the university and the fraternity, and although he was the smallest, he still had rather sizable muscles. The stud opted to go for a toned aesthetic, his trimmed bulk looking like it was ripped out of an Abercrombie & Fitch ad.

Some of the other jocks muttered under their breath, jealous that they weren't getting picked. Whereas others were fighting back laughs because Trevor was still brand new, and therefore didn't realize all that the position entailed.

Trevor proudly stood before the rest of the fraternity, puffing out his chest with pride. Coach took off his baseball cap to place it upon Trevor's head.

The exact second Coach's hat was placed onto Trevor-- BWOMPH!

Trevor gasped as soon as he felt a massive heaviness on his chest. Fearing some sort of medical emergency, the young jock was horrified when he looked down and saw that instead of his chiseled pecs and abs, he stared down at large muscletits and a big gut.

The rest of the jocks cheered as they watched the new Coach explore his inflated body with shaky hands. Where a fit, young jock had stood just moments before was now a beefy bear of a stud. He still had muscles, but now they were concealed by a thick layer of fat. His pecs that were capped with nubby nipples still protruded off of his chest, but they also drooped slightly and rested atop his cresting musclegut that hid away his lengthened, hardening cock. As Trevor explored his new body, he saw that he was covered in manly hair, and he looked over a beefy shoulder to stare in the mirror on the wall, paling when he saw an older man staring back at him. He had a goatee and slight wrinkles near his eyes, complimenting his new daddy look.

He looked just like Coach: a big, burly musclebear.

"Wh-what happened to me?" the former jock panicked, bristling at his much deeper voice.

He turned back to ask Coach what had happened to him, only to jerk back in shock as a trim, young jock with a chiseled six pack stood in his place instead.

The toned jock playfully pinched Trevor's new belly, making the new daddy blush. "I'll miss that," he teased. "But now it's your turn to be Coach. We alternate from year to year, so enjoy it while it lasts."

The rest of the frat bros cheered as Trevor struggled to take the cursed hat off, but it was seemingly superglued to his head, leaving him trapped as a muscle daddy coach for the rest of the year.

-- -- --

Over the next couple of weeks, Trevor managed to adapt to his new role as Coach. At first, it was a struggle trying to squeeze his new furry bulk into clothes since he'd gained at least sixty pounds of muscle and fat. And he was finding that his new daddy body was CONSTANTLY horny.

Never before had Trevor ever had a gay thought in his life, but he was finding it incredibly hard to not drool over all of his jock frat brothers. Their toned muscles and youthful bodies made his enlarged cock surge, throbbing with want. His hairy bulk was also sensitive, and he could get himself off just by worshipping his hairy muscles; and his enlarged nubby nipples were hardwired straight to his cock.

However, Trevor was surprisingly happy to find out that his new body also offered him something else.

"Hey, Jockbro, get me another beer!" Trevor bellowed in his deep voice from his spot on the sofa. He was wearing a simple jockstrap that was stretched to bursting as it struggled to contain his massive cock. He opted to go shirtless, shuddering a little as the air from the A/C blew over his hard nipples.

One of his frat brothers immediately scampered towards the fridge, not even bothering to hide the fact that getting ordered around by the musclebear made his rock hard. He grabbed a beer off the bottom shelf and hurried back to the living room, his hard cock tenting out his gym shorts.

No matter what order he gave, the new Coach was delighted to discover that the jocks in the frat had to obey. Even better, was that it turned them on to be bossed around by such a manly daddy such as himself.

"Here ya go, Daddy," the jock gushed as he handed the new Coach his beer, his cock throbbing and leaking precum into his shorts.

Trevor took it and chugged it, letting out a loud belch. He then gestured down at his large bulge, his own cock starting to slip out of the small confines of his jockstrap. "Go ahead and take care of that," he ordered.

The frat bro dropped to his knees and immediately fished Trevor's daddy cock out of his jockstrap, eagerly slurping it up. He moaned loudly as he sucked the new Coach off.

Coach Trevor moaned loudly, his deep voice echoing off the walls of the frat house. He loved his new position as Coach, and he knew deep down that this was going to be the best year at college ever.

[imsrtman]

Step Daddy

"You really need to get over your stepdad man." My friend tells me, concerned.

"Look, I'll try this one last thing and if it doesn't work then I'll give it up." I respond. "Did you bring the sunglasses?"

"Yes, but just remember he's like 25 years older than you. He's probably not going to be into you, even after this." He says as he hands me a pair of old pilot shades.

I told him I could let it go, but I can't. I'm just putting all my eggs into this basket, the sunglasses. Apparently they're supposed to transform someone who wears them mentally and physically to match my type. He already is my type, but I guess I wouldn't mind him bulking up a bit and growing some hair. It would be sexy if he got more charming, but he's already charming as it is. I guess there's only one way to find out.

I wait on the living room couch watching tv. He always gets home from work at the same time, so I know he'll be here any minute. I sit and stare at my reflection in the glasses. Am I really ready to change this man's life so drastically. My friend said no one else would take notice of the change, so it'll be like nothing happened. As I'm thinking over it, I hear the roar of his engine from the driveway. I try to calm down, but I can feel my body vibrate from the nerves. The door flies open.

"Hey buddy, hows it goin?" He asks me with his hot southern accent.

"Not bad. By the way, I found these sunglasses lying around, and assumed they were yours." I try to play it cool as I lie to his face.

"Oh, thanks. But these aren't mine." He responds.

"Well you might as well keep em, they don't fit me anyway." I try to convince him to take them without seeming too pushy.

"Well alright, thanks kid." He swipes the glasses and throws them on.

That was easier than I thought. As soon as he put them on, he stopped moving. His jaw slacked as if there was not a thought running through his mind. It started slow, his button up started to look a little bit tighter. His once flat chest started to push against his shirt and the shape of a belly started to show. Then it started to speed up. His chest started to pulse, growing in size with each one. They grew until the button on his collar popped off, then another button popped, then another and another. His juicy pecs flopped down after being released from his shirt. His stomach was next. His midsection widened and his stomach grew into a respectable beer belly, straining against his shirt. It wasn't long before more buttons began to pop, until his shirt was completely open. His arms also looked like they doubled in size, filling out his sleeves with thick muscles.

Next his legs start to look like they're gonna burst out of his dress pants. I can hear the rips ripple through his pants as his thighs grow inside of them. His ass fills out all the space in his pants and proceeds to rip open his fly and snap his belt in half. I can tell his underwear is barely staying in one piece as a large bulge formed in between his legs.

Finally his face begins to change. His once skinny face fills out with fat, giving him a rounder look. I can see that hair is falling out of his hat until he is left completely bald under there. Though in return his clean shaven face grows a bushy beard. But the hair doesn't stop there. It continues down his chest and to his belly, and presumably the rest of his body. He finally regains control of his body. He sighs as he stretched out his arms and cracks his knuckles before looking right at me.

"Come here, son." He says in a deep buttery voice.

A shock travels through my spine as I think he might know what I've done to him.

"What'd I say boy!" He raises his voice.

I jump a bit before I walk closer to him. I realize how imposing he is up close. He must have gotten taller because he seems well over six feet tall now, and at least 250 pounds.

"Daddy had a stressful day, why don't you help him release some tension." He says as he pushes me to my knees.

I blush, this is everything I wanted from this, it just happened so much faster than I thought.

"Don't be shy, boy. This will be our little secret." He says as he pulls his underwear down.

[imsrtman]

Higher Education

Bit of a belated 4/20 TF! Reliving the heady days of his weed-filled youth may not help a professor's tenure track. Enjoy! -Occam

It had been quite a while since Richard had cut himself some slack. He was on track to be tenured and the obligations and rigor involved gave him little time to himself. His department has really become more of a family to him than his estranged once loved ones. He spends more waking hours in this office than any room of his spacious home. Today he’s burning the midnight oil yet again as he mars a doctoral candidate’s thesis draft in red ink.

Seeing just how much of a scarlet mess he has left for this poor student he pauses to make himself a cup of tea. He certainly doesn’t want to be seen as too critical or crotchety, though he feels assured that his students know this. Upon returning to his desk he finds a small wrapped gift box resting squarely on the marked up essay. He knows precisely who it is from and chuckles as he looks at the kitschy weed-themed wrapping paper. 

Picking it up he hears something small and light shake around in the box. The tag reads: “Happy 4-20 Old Man, why not live a little- your favorite Candidate, Mac.” Slowly unwrapping it Richard smiles wistfully as he recalls way way back to when he was in undergrad. Walking down smoke filled dorm hallways bleary-eyed as he contributes to it. Just smoking grass on the main lawn welcoming anyone to open their minds at these little sessions. An alarm goes off on his computer shaking him from his reverie as he sets the gift down to respond to the pile of emails that have accrued today.

Richard begins his cookie-cutter responses to colleagues, scratching backs and brown nosing as need be to advance his own career. Not too long into this dull work however does he begin to smell that unmistakable skunky scent coming from Mac’s half opened gift. He scoffs and rolls his eyes, shocked that his subordinate would fully shepherd drugs into his office before pausing to remember that weed is legal here, in this state at least. He tosses the box in the bag making sure the scent can’t escape as he returns his attention to the ocean of busywork.

He cannot find purchase however as he finds himself impossibly distracted, the tea he made tastes bitter in his mouth and every so often he smells a whiff of the joint hiding in his bag. Richard rushes through a couple of responses before checking the clock and realizing Mac was right, partly that is. He can afford to head out a little early. It is a holiday of his youth after all, he thinks to himself smiling mischievously as he grabs his coat and heads to his home. 

Tenured he may not be but he makes enough to live incredibly close to campus. It’s about five so theoretically the work day is over anyway, but he lives close enough that should there be need he could easily return. He would be happy to even, he puts his hand in the bag and fingers the ripped paper of the gift box. Patting it as if to say maybe another time, though resolving to chew out Mac for such an inappropriate gift. 

Tossing his bag on a chair and entering his quiet home he pours himself a drink and heads to watch the daily news. As soon as it touches his lips though he spits it out all over himself. It was beyond revolting, for the life in him he can’t figure out why though? It’s what he always has as a treat isn’t it? He wipes up his mess and grills himself as to what on Earth caused him to do that. Going down the list of possibilities he finds himself distracted as wafting from his open bag is the impossibly alluring scent of Mac’s joint. 

For a time he just sits and stares at his bag, mulling over any real consequences there could be to just letting himself smoke just this once. He’s sure his colleague Dr. Bennet can barely go a school week without smoking away at least a day. Flicking the metaphorical angel off his shoulder he decides to go for it. It’s just one joint, what could possibly go awry.

The doctor takes one massive hit and remembers that whatever the kids are smoking today is leagues more intense than the kush he had back when. He coughs heartily and stumbles into his kitchen to get some water, smiling as he remembers the old adage that coughing actually gets you higher. He pours a cup for himself, spilling a tad over the counter and neglecting to clean it up.

Richard decides to throw on a record before returning to his joint once more. God he remembers loving nothing more than just sitting and watching his wax spin on his player as smoke danced in the air. He reclines back and immediately feels more at home. He’s lived here for almost a decade now and never has he felt more comfortable than this moment. He laughs at himself wondering why he’s waited so long to smoke again. Maybe he should text Mac and thank him?

At this his phone rings and he sobers up almost immediately, his first couple hits washed away as he sees a text from his department head. He holds the joint with his lips as he uses both hands to unlock his phone, smoke sailing wistfully past his eyes as he starts to read it. Sitting there looking at the bright screen of his phone alongside the ever increasing smoke though his eyes quickly dry and he sets it down. How important could it be anyway? The workday is over; he is under no obligation to respond, he reasons. Surely it’s nothing. He sets his phone down and goes to lie back on the couch and listen to his old music, taking another massive hit.

He struggles to kick his shoes off as they suddenly grow uncomfortable on his feet, almost as if they were a couple sizes too small, that can’t be right though as if his feet were growing in his old age. He laughs at the idea, picturing clown feet at the bottom of his thin legs, not seeing in reality that his feet are starting to strain his socks. Nor could he possibly notice as their odor begins to mingle with the overpowering smell of weed filling his den.

His phone vibrates again and he furrows his brow before his eyes glaze over as intended. His clothes all over begin to feel a little uncomfortable on his body. He grimaces wondering what exactly the move is before duh, this is his house! He hits himself on his head as he decides to just strip, he was always half naked smoking outdoors back then he may as well do so in his own house. Taking off his clothes he doesn’t notice as there is a skip in the record as it changes, the grooves warp, harden, and shrink as his pristine record collection diminishes into a massive, slightly disheveled CD collection. Richard certainly doesn't notice as he scratches at his chest, the only thought in his head as he rips his joint once more is “Man, I love this song.”

He giggles once more as he hears his stomach rumble and he recalls what a persistent issue the munchies have always been for him. In fact it was one of the reasons he quit back in his grad school, he simply couldn’t afford all the weed along with the food budget that satisfying his cravings demanded. Shouldn’t be a problem now though, he thinks, he is an, uh? Pausing as the haziness sets in his eyes burning pink as the thoughts in his head slow. He’s a professor right? Though his mind slows he continues his steady crawl to raid whatever snacks lie in his cabinet.

There he, surprisingly, finds a stoner’s paradise. The shelves are lined with chips and cheap pastries beyond imagination. He once more holds the joint in his mouth as he reaches deep to double fist some bags of chips, tacitly continuing to smoke as his stomach rumbles in jubilation. In his gluttony he drops bags to the floor and laughs letting the joint fall to the floor wondering if the five second rule applies to weed, guffawing some more. He hears his own voice in his head telling him to keep it down but as if he’s going to listen to that square.

He turns up his CD player’s stereo in protest as his inner monologue grows more agitated. Dude you’ve gotta turn it down, you share a wall with the neighbors. He stuffs his hand in the potato chips and starts devouring them as he reflects on this. Shares a wall? But that would be he lives in a duplex, or wait? He looks around his place and sees it smaller than he remembers it, right? Continuing to scarf chips getting grease all over his hands and face as, so far beyond his notice, it begins to produce more oil itself than it has in decades. 

Continuing to snack he hears his phone ring as his boss is fully calling him now. Stumbling up and over to his phone Richard doesn’t notice as his thighs begin to fill his underwear. He had lost a lot of weight from his long years of working and now that he is finally indulging once more it seems a healthy weight is returning. Rubbing together as he makes his way to the couch, the friction draws his attention to just how pleasurable physicality is when he’s high. Gosh he needed this. 

He grows distracted as he arrives at the couch, his phone stops ringing before starting up again as his Department head calls once more. Seeing her contact picture appear he says aloud, “whatever bitch” laughing like an ass as he hangs up on her and sets his phone to do-not-disturb. Once more there is a buzz in the air as the music set up changes once more. Phone now in hand he starts to play music the only way he has ever known, wrinkles and the few gray hairs that remained totally disappearing from his face as he presses skip on his phone and is awash in adoration as his all time favorite album starts playing. 

He sits there and just takes in the music as he rubs his slightly distended stomach. Grimacing as he thinks he should start hitting the gym. He hears Mac all the time talking about how much he loves hitting the gym high. His heart suddenly flutters as he thinks about Mac and grows giggly again. He feels a pang in his head that such behavior is inappropriate. He is a prof- He’s a? His mind strains to recall what exactly he is. His eyes search the room looking for any hints before landing on the TV seeing the Daily News that has been playing through it all suddenly turn to static before coalescing into the video game Mac was always talking his ear off about in office hours. In the once professors mind though the only thought present is, Fuck! I love this game!

Energy surges through his body as he searches for a playstation remote. His pulse races as his excitement grows and he feels a desperate urge to stretch. He feels as his tendons extend. Rubbing his arms across his torso he feels his increased weight begin to coalesce into firm yet weighty muscle. His hands twitch and scratch against his increasing strength as he controls on the couch, moaning and laughing at just how lascivious this pleasure is, his voice vibrating deeper as the pitch of the song and video game blast louder in his head. Haha wait a second, he thinks, I’m so fuckin’ sore I must already be going to the gym faded with Mac right?

He blushes and stretches some more, feeling his back arch and his tight torso stretches to its limit before surging beyond it. His arms raised behind his head they grasp at air and feel the sought after remote and a hat which he instinctively throws on. Ah this hat is Mac’s isn’t it! He is briefly confused once more as he tries to remember what exactly his relationship is with Mac. It’s? He’s, are they roommates? Rich looks around the room, eyes shifting to where there once was a record collection, no a CD stand? Why would he need either of those though haha, as if Mac’s apartment has space for that!

Mac’s apartment. The thought repeats many times over in his mind and his eye twitches as he feels a pain that the high cannot make pleasurable. Grimacing, he decides to try and focus on the game. Black ink slowly staining his body as he clicks buttons. After little time at all though he realizes, fuck, it’s been so long since he’d hit that joint hasn’t it?

Pausing his game he uses his bleary eyes to scan his apartment floor for the roach. He didn’t drop it in the chip bag did he? He checks far too quickly to possibly see it before giving up. There’s gotta be an easier way to smoke some more right? Out of the corner of his eye he sees the rocks glass he was using as a stupid smile inches across his face. Through the haze in the room the only thing Rich can see when looking at such a cylinder is a bong. Rich reaches for it, the glass growing taller and embellishing as he does. In a fluid motion he snatches it and starts to stumble around and look for a lighter. 

Lucky for him in Mac’s apartment they seem to be scattered around as if they were decoration. Thinking of Mac his mind is a sea of conflict again and there is a sudden urge, a craving, a need to smoke right now. He lights the bowl and before he even inhales from the beyond filthy bong he is at ease once more. Smoke rocketing into his lungs he holds back a coughing fit before a giggle breaks the line and he loses control. 

Between each cough he feels himself lose something. He sees Mac and laughs at the idea that he could ever be in charge. Mac’s older than him, right? He sees an unfamiliar house that he could never afford as it turns to static and shrinks into a small one bedroom apartment that doesn’t even have his name on the lease. He sees a degree he sees multiple degrees and not only can he not imagine himself having the willpower to get them, he laughs at the idea that he would even want to sit through a single college course. Smoke fills the air as if he were hotboxing the apartment and he rubs his body as hair pushes its way out of his skin. He needs to shave, Mac like him smooth. 

Feeling his body once more, flexing his bare body against the couch and rubbing his hands across his itchy stomach smiling without a care in the world or a thought in his head he hears a key turn in the front door. His eyes stay closed as his smile grows wider and the only man, the only thing, that matters to him in the world approaches. Mac stands over him, dressed in a suit as he clearly came from the campus and says, “Miss me, Dick?”

Dick’s eyes burst open more bloodshot than could possibly be healthy and he stares wordlessly, longingly, into the eyes of the man domineering over him. He’s a little confused at what the smirk on his face could mean, but Dick is confused most of the time, so he’ll just wait for Mac to explain! 

He doesn’t. Mac leans in close to Dick’s ear and just whispers, “Happy 4-20 Doc. Thanks for giving in.” Then puts his mouth over Dick’s before his mind could even recognize the words being said. He loses control instantly without a hand touches his cock as it expands heartily, no underwear to hold it or his cum back as he forevermore loses control over his mind, of his life. Not that he minds, how bad could life be with someone as nice and great as Mac watching over him! The two continue to make out on Mac’s couch, not caring for the cleanliness of the suit as the bong is knocked onto the table. From now on there is little at all that Dick would care about at all besides his master, his Mac.

[imsrtman]

Somehow Tumbex didn't remove his contents. You can access the whole story if you have a direct link to the post. I've summarised them into a sheet. GOOGLE DOCS

Hey Everyone,

I don’t tend to write these kinds of posts on my tumblr page, however I feel this is necessary.

In the event you are not aware, Dumb and Jocked, the main person I do collabs with, and also who is someone who most people might consider to be one of the backbones of the Tumblr TF community, has deactivated his account and left us last week.

Most of the people and I do not know exactly why or how this happened, but it's the reality of the situation unless he somehow does return in the future.

Some tumblrs might still have some of his stories reblogged, including mine, however some of which cannot be accessed as they are stuck at the ‘read more’ page. Notably his longer stories ‘Branded’ and both parts of the major collaboration we did together in ‘Narrow residences’.

If anyone has any of these stories saved somewhere, it would be great if you could either link it to me or post it on Tumblr.

Below will be my farewell to him, in the event he ever does somehow read it. This probably is not the best farewell letter, but it's the best I could do in such short notice and also posting it publicly. —————————————————————

Hey Dumb and Jocked,

Thanks for reading this, and I'm sad to see you go.

We’ve worked on various collabs together and it was fun throughout the years discussing various ideas here and there with you.

Unfortunately, after you left, it just feels really upsetting looking at the stuff you wrote. Even those that were saved from reblogs and reposts from other blogs. While I do want to keep them for memories and also because I did collaborate on some of them, it just feels much sadder trying to indulge in your stories or continue in sequels of it.

I was shocked that you would leave us out of the blue, however a part of me anticipated this.

I'm mostly speculating, but this is a hobby that can be rather controversial and you contributed a massive ton, likely without any compensation. You were quite private in general and talked about stories and bounced off my ideas now and then.

You sort of have a clean gateway if you decide to ever leave for good, as you probably are not really close to anyone here other than writing TF stories.

Some of us hoped that you might return, and speculated maybe it's tumblr accidentally banning you and you would get your account back, but as the days went by, it only reaffirmed that my anticipation was likely correct.

I myself mostly continued on tumblr for you, and I'm not sure if I would continue now that the main reason and person I stuck around for has left without letting any of us know. It is something I will have to decide for myself in the future.

If you ever do return to Tumblr or decide to message me privately to talk about things, that would be great. I do hope you return, even if you don’t write stories that frequently or even at all, so we could talk for a bit.

However I know that I won’t wait forever.

That’s all I will write in this letter. It was fun writing and discussing TF stories with you while it lasted.

-Sjw Publishings

[imsrtman]

The Bro Cap

Biology was my favorite class this semester.  Not only did I find science to be interesting, but I also shared the class with one of the hottest guys in the school: Aaron Moore.  He was the star of the school’s baseball team as a pitcher and he was the talk of the school.  Girls were always swooning over him for how tall and handsome and athletic he was.  He was good at every sport; football, basketball, and so on, but in school, he played baseball.  He was a major source of envy for a lot of guys.  A lot of guys wished they could be him.  I, however, wanted to be with him.  Fortunately, I sit behind him in class, so I get the best view of him, despite being from behind.  At least it meant he wouldn’t see me watching him.

I often found myself getting distracted by him.  Even if I couldn’t see his face, I could see his broad shoulders, which were built like mountains, as well as his arms which were shaped like mounds of muscle.  His tall stature sometimes made it hard to look at the board, not that it was the main place my eyes were looking at in the first place.  His favorite baseball hat, adorned with our school team’s logo on it, was worn backwards like most of the jocks at the school.  He didn’t come off like the rest of them though.  His relaxed vibe made him easy to talk to and he could be quite funny compared to the rest of the meathead jocks.  He got along with everyone really well, making him very well-liked.  Although he was far from the smartest guy in the class, I could tell that he tried.  It was no wonder why he was so popular.

Today, I was daydreaming when I was disrupted by our teacher, Mr. Martin.  I felt him stare directly at me, almost as if he knew I wasn’t paying attention.  It was like he could read my every thought, and honestly, if that were true, that’d be extremely humiliating.  The last thing I needed was for my crush on Aaron to be exposed to the rest of the class.  Knowing how embarrassing he could be, I wouldn’t put it past him.  He asked me a question, and I thankfully already knew the answer, as I awakened from my daydream.

“Correct!  I wasn’t sure if you were paying attention or not,” he chuckled.  “You always look like you’re off in your own little world.  But you still manage to do well.  You gotta tell the rest of your class your secret.”  Looks like someone has caught on to my tendencies.  Mr. Martin was a middle-aged guy, probably in his 30s.  He looked good for his age, and was a pretty relaxed and carefree teacher.

The class went by as usual, and eventually we were dismissed.  All of the other students dispersed, but I needed to ask our professor a question about the homework.  He helped clarify things for me thankfully.  I was about to leave, but then he pointed out something on the ground.

“Hey Aiden, doesn’t Aaron sit in front of you?  That’s his hat, right?”  he asked.

“Yeah, I always see him wear it.”  It was unusual for him to have left it here by accident.

“Do you know if you can bring it to him today?  If not, I can keep it here until next class.”

“I’ll hold onto it until I see him next.  I have a feeling I’ll run into him later.”  I don’t know why I said that.  We don’t have any other classes together and we certainly aren’t close enough to be friends, even if I wished we were.  I’m also not on the baseball team.  Either way, my professor smiled for helping him out.

Regardless, I grabbed Aaron’s hat, but instead of chasing after him, I realized I really needed to go to the bathroom.  He was probably long gone anyways.  After I went, I noticed that I was still holding onto his hat.  I went to observe it and I noticed that it smelled a little like him, with a mix of sweat from wearing it all day and whatever shampoo he used.  I knew I shouldn’t, but I felt a sudden urge to put Aaron’s hat on.  Despite the fact that I would feel really embarrassed if someone saw me wearing it, I knew I would likely never get this opportunity again.  I was completely alone, so it’s not like there’s anything wrong with it.  It wasn’t just any hat, it was Aaron’s.  It’s not like he had lice or anything.  What’s the worst that could happen?

And so I put it on, wearing it backwards like he would.  Strangely, for a few seconds, I felt as though time had completely stopped.  The leaky sink faucet paused its rhythmic dripping.  The stomping of feet in the hallway deafened.  My watch skipped a tick.  But as time seemed to return to its natural course, I was able to see how I looked.  I had to admit, I looked really good in it.  I wouldn’t call myself an unattractive guy, but Aaron was way out of my league.  Despite that, a smirk appeared on my face.  A wave of confidence washed over me, almost like a little bit of Aaron had rubbed off on me.  Suddenly, I didn’t really feel like taking it off anymore.  I wasn’t too worried about what would happen if Aaron or one of his friends saw me wearing it.

After admiring myself in the mirror for a few minutes, I realized that I was late to my next class, algebra.  I had no idea I had spent so much time checking myself out.  I must’ve lost track of time.  As I walked to my seat, I felt like all eyes were on me for some reason.  I never used to make much of an impression on most people.  I was quiet and had only a couple friends.  Normally, I would’ve felt a little anxious with so many people staring at me, but I didn’t really give a shit now.

“Late as always, aren’t we Aiden?”  the teacher remarked.  Very funny.  I always showed up on time.  I sat down in my seat, but it didn’t feel right.  My body squeezed tight into the desk.  I felt like I was sitting in a chair meant for a middle schooler.  Weird.  Something weird is going on, but I can’t figure out what it is.

The class was just as weird because I felt like my classmates were a little more talkative.  I couldn’t focus during class due to being distracted by someone whispering.  I still felt a couple of their eyes on me.  I looked over and made brief eye contact with one of the girls on the far side of the room.  She immediately looked away and giggled towards one of her friends.  Her cheeks turned a deep crimson, the color of passion.  She was cute, but definitely out of my league.  I wasn’t straight either way, so I didn’t care if she was into me.

Normally, I was good at math, even if I didn’t like it, but I felt myself struggling to answer questions today.  Something must be wrong.  The room felt hotter than usual, and I felt myself sweat a little and my body started to ache.  I noticed that I smelled a little like Aaron’s cologne.  I’ve recognized his scent from sitting behind him, but for that smell to linger and for me to smell like him is really weird.

Class was dismissed, and this was usually when I went to lunch.  I received a text from one of my friends, Bryan, from half an hour earlier.

Bryan: Hey, me and the guys are getting food.  Wanna come with?

Normally, we always got lunch at the same time.  But for some reason, I didn’t really want to?  That’s weird for me.  I felt my fingers move on my own as they typed out a message.

Me: nah bro i dont feel like it mayb sum other time dude

I didn’t text like that normally.  Nor did I turn down my friends. Is it the…Before I could finish my thought, I was interrupted by the booming sound of two guys further down the hall, with one of them calling my name.  They were two jocks.  I recognized that they were both friends with Aaron because they hung out together a lot.  What did they want?  I didn’t really get along well with either of them or the rest of their kind.  Hopefully they didn’t think I was a pervert for wearing Aaron’s hat and beat me up.

“Sup bro, we were just about to get some food before hitting the gym.  Wanna come with?”  the other jock asked me.  Judging from his tone, he seemed surprisingly friendly with me.

Were they serious?  Did these jocks actually think I was one of them?  I would never get an opportunity to hang out with them again, so I agreed.  Part of me felt guilty for ditching my nerdy friends to hang out with the jocks, but I knew they were cool guys.  My perspective on these two big jocks changed as I walked with them.  For some reason, I felt a strong sense of camaraderie with them, almost like I’ve known them for a long time.  I’m not sure why I was so intimidated by them before.  They were really chill.

I saw another one of my friends as I walked with my new friends.  I waved to him, but he barely seemed to notice me.  Was he mad at me for skipping lunch with them or did he seriously not recognize me since I was hanging out with the jocks?  It almost felt like he didn’t know me at all.

I pulled out my phone to see what was up with him, until I realized that Bryan had finally responded to me.

Bryan: My bad.  Thought you were someone else.  He must’ve given me the wrong number.

Was this some kind of prank?  He obviously knew my number.  Of course he knows who I am.  Whatever, I don’t care what a nerd like him thinks.  I put my phone away and resumed chatting with my jock friends.  You know, my real friends.  I noticed as I walked with them that they didn’t look as big and menacing as they seemed.  Either that or maybe I hit my growth spurt recently.

We went and got food, with the jocks making sure I got enough protein.  I swear I almost never eat this much.  The jocks must eat a lot to stay in shape, I thought to myself.  But did they seriously want me to go to the gym with them?  I had class soon.  But these guys were cool and I didn’t want to disappoint my bros.  I figured I could miss a day and go lift with them.  As long as it doesn’t turn into a habit.

I realized as we stepped into the gym that I had never worked out before nor had I stepped into an actual gym.  I was worried about coming across as weak and humiliating myself in front of them. I changed into some clothes that I'm not really sure when I bought, a tank top and gym shorts.  To my surprise, I simply followed the motions of my bros and I was able to work out with them just fine.  I noticed that I was able to keep up with their workouts, and I surprised myself with how much I could lift.  It shouldn’t have been possible to lift as much as they did but maybe they were just going easy on me because they knew I was a beginner.  By the time we finished, I was just in time for my last class.  But just before I parted ways with my new friends, one of them said something that caught me off guard.

“Later, Moore.”

Must’ve been a slip of the tongue.  There was no way in hell they mistook me for Aaron.  At least it gave me a mental reminder to give Aaron his hat back next time I see him.  Although…his hat is so nice that I’m a little tempted to keep it for myself.  He could always just get another one, right?  I just don’t want him to see me wearing it though, so I’ll only do it when he’s not around.

In class, everyone was still staring at me as if I went to school in my underwear.  Maybe there was something weird about me, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.  I did smell a little bit since I came from my workout, but I don’t think it was that.  I shrugged it off.  They can stare all they want for all I care.  I felt incredibly sore after my workout, and my arms looked unnaturally swollen.  If I had to be honest, I almost felt as big as the two jocks I worked out with.  But in such a short amount of time?  With no prior lifting experience?  That was impossible.

I found myself completely zoned out and indifferent to class today.  All I wanted to do was leave and uh…What was it that I had going on later?  I pondered that thought throughout the entire class period.  Eventually, we were dismissed and I was free to leave.  I was walking towards the dorms until I ran into, guess who?  Aaron Moore.

“Hey bro, you still coming to practice?”  he asked.

“Practice?”

“Yeah, baseball practice, you big dummy!  You know, you’re always so forgetful, dude.  Good thing I always was the smarter one, bro.”

“Yeah, you’re right, bro.  My bad.”  I’m not sure which statement I was agreeing with.  But as I looked at him, I realized something.  He was wearing his hat!  But then how was I wearing his hat if he was wearing it?  “I thought you lost your hat.  How are you wearing it?”

“I was wearing my hat all day, dude.  One day you decided to copy me and wear your hat to school like I do.  But honestly, I think you rock it better than I do, so keep it up.  You’ll impress the ladies.”  But I was gay.  And I’ve only had this hat for a day.  If it wasn’t his, then how was it actually mine?  I was overwhelmed and full of questions after everything that had happened today, from my growth spurt, to me hanging out with the jocks, to my old friends barely knowing who I am, but I didn’t seem to have the brain power at the moment to seek the answers to them.

As we walked, I kept chatting with Aaron as if it was natural, as if we always knew each other.  Something felt off, but I couldn’t figure it out.  Was it because we were going to practice?  I’ve never played baseball in my life.  Nah, that can’t be right.  I feel like I’ve swung a bat before…  We went into the locker room to change.  I looked in the mirror and paused for a second.

My reflection wasn’t there.  Someone else’s was.  Someone much stronger and much taller than me.  That wasn’t me.  It was Aaron Moore.

No, except it wasn’t an exact match.  There was enough different about the guy in front of me to know that it wasn’t Aaron.  This figure was a little stronger than him, and still stood probably a little over 6 feet tall.  I walked closer.  “Aaron” walked closer.  I moved my hand to feel my face.  So did “Aaron”.  A dull, confused look appeared on his face.  Had I really become him?  But Aaron was over on the other end of the room changing.  Then who am I?  Was I like this since I put the hat on earlier?  I reached into my wallet and pulled out my ID.

Aiden Moore...That’s not my last name.  That’s…Aaron’s?  Normally I wouldn’t have minded taking his last name, but we definitely WEREN’T married.  As far as I knew, Aaron was as straight as an arrow.

Date of Birth: 08/17/2003…If I recall, that’s Aaron’s birthday.  I knew my birthday, and it was in January.  Don’t tell me…Are we…?

I compared the face in the ID to the one in the mirror.  It wasn’t an illusion, and it wasn’t a dream.  It was like I was his twin!  Aaron was an only child though and I only had sisters.  At this point, I was so confused and overwhelmed.  Panic was the only emotion I could feel as I felt like I was going through an identity crisis.  I realized that this all started when I wore his hat.  I reached to grab it off of my head…until I felt a hand touch my shoulder.  My bro…I mean Aaron.

“Admiring yourself in the mirror, bro?  Yeah, you’re a pretty handsome dude just like me.  I think it runs in the blood, you know.  You like that, right?”  He placed his other hand on my head, pushing the hat tighter on my head.  I nodded.  I proceeded to flex, as I became self-absorbed with my own reflection.  I always thought rather highly of myself, especially about my body.  At this point, I couldn’t comprehend the paradox of me somehow being his own non-existent twin brother.

“You know, not every guy is lucky enough to have a cool brother like I do, let alone a twin.  The two of us can play ball together, work out together, and even get all the chicks we want together.  This is all you ever wanted, right?”  He wasn’t necessarily wrong, but I wanted to be “with” Aaron, not be him.  Whoever granted me this wish got it all wrong.  But as I listened to him, I started to realize that maybe it wasn’t my wish to begin with.

“Yeah bro.  This shit’s the life, dude.”  I noticed Aaron’s face light up as I said that.  The way I talked sounded like it came out of the mouth of some dudebro.  I noticed his irresistible smirk that was always on his face when he was in a good mood.  As I kept admiring myself in the mirror, I felt my mind slow…down...like it was on autopilot…

“That’s right…Just let it happen…  I know it’s been a while, so it’s okay if you don’t remember, but you know that one trophy we won a couple years back?  During senior year?”

“Fuck yeah, bro.  I remember.”  But I’ve never played baseball before…But…I have right?  I know I have.

“You know you were the reason we won, right?  One lucky hit in the bottom of the ninth, and you practically won us the game.  I’ve never been more proud of you bro.”  Aaron patted me on the back.  I remembered that game fondly, even though I should have no recollection of it.  That year, our baseball team was the best in the state.  And I…led our team to a championship?  As much as I tried to deny it in my head, the memories felt real.  But why was he reminding me of this now?

“You didn’t do half bad yourself, bro.”

As Aaron and I kept chatting, the memories of being his twin brother kept flowing into my brain, as memories of my former life faded away.  Turns out that I was the brother he never had.  We were a pair.  We complemented each other perfectly.  I was actually the twin brother of the most popular guy in the school.  I remember I thought he was hot…wait, what the fuck, bro?  That’s gay as shit.  And weird.  This was my own twin we were talking about.  Although I guess if I was a handsome stud, then he’d have to be too.  After all, no girl can resist either one of us.

“So the hat is working…”  Aaron whispered under his breath.

“What hat?”

“Nothing, bro!  I was just saying how good your hat looks on you.  Come on, let’s go.”  I followed him, as my transformation was now complete.

From this day on, I was Aiden Moore, Aaron Moore’s twin brother.  Except that’s who I was technically born as and that's who everyone already knew me as.  Although we had a lot in common, I definitely felt more like a stereotypical jock.  I was loud, cocky, and masculine, almost to the point of brutishness, compared to my brother who was a lot more laid-back and charismatic.  Not that it was a bad thing, although most nerds and weaker men would disagree.  But what me and Aaron did have in common was playing sports, working out, fucking chicks, and being the most popular guys in the school.  I know I wanted to be closer to Aaron, but I never expected this.  But at the same time, it felt good, almost pleasurable at times.  I realized that in my new state, I could hardly last a day without an orgasm, whether it was in my grip or in some bitch’s pussy.

Two days later, I had biology again.  I remembered I kinda struggled with this class.  I sat behind my bro as usual.  I was grateful for him since he always helped me with the homework.  I noticed him talking to the professor in private when we got to class.  When I asked him, he wouldn’t say.  It wasn’t like him to keep secrets from me.  We practically knew everything about each other after all.  After class, I was called to stay after by Mr. Martin.

“Aiden Moore…Your brother told me to check up on you.  Is everything alright?  Did you need any guidance on the homework, too?”

“Never felt better, bro.  I think I was just up too late partying the other day.  And nah, I eventually figured it out, dude.”  I conveniently hid the fact that I copied the answers off of some nerd.

“Good, good.”  Mr. Martin smiled.  “I won’t leave you too long.  I know you two have your hands full with practice today.  Hmmm…Still wearing that hat, I see.  It suits you well, Aiden.”  I saw him write something down in a notebook as I left.  Mr. Martin was always cool.  I felt like he understood me and my brother better than most teachers here.  I couldn’t help but feel grateful for him, but for what?  I quickly discarded that thought because it wasn’t important to me.

What was important to me was hitting the gym with my bros.  I ditched class again, I don’t even remember what the class was anyways.  Probably nothing important.  As long as I pass and get to stay on the team, I couldn’t care less about how badly I do in school.  I’m basically only here because I got some fancy scholarship.

At the gym, I always pushed myself to lift the heaviest weights.  All of my bros were impressed with how much I could lift.  Must run in the blood.  After school, I went to practice with Aaron.  We shared a room at the dorms, and on the weekends, we always went to the biggest parties our school had to offer.  We always bragged to each other about what girls we slept with that night, almost like it was a competition.  Man, this was the life.  I never felt like I understood Aaron on a personal level until recently, but man, we were the luckiest pair of brothers in the school.

[imsrtman]

Tenor Troubles

Masculinization spurred by a going from a Tenor to a Bass, bit of an odd one but hope you enjoy! -Occam

Max probably should have read his contract more closely. He knew that grad students across the board were getting shafted, but the agreement he has with the College of Fine Arts was some next level exploitation. He prided himself on his voice, being able to sing higher than even most of the Altos he has previously studied alongside. But his degree plan on the already signed contract suggests he is going to be enrolled as a Bass in the graduate program. Clearly there has been some misunderstanding that he’ll just need to work out with the department.

He knocks on the door of his advising professor and without waiting for a come in he bursts through the doors to see the man who is both his boss and professor staring at him less than pleased. Max’s face reddens in embarrassment and before he can even open his mouth to speak, Dr. Reyes addresses him.

“Maxwell is it. I trust you have a reason for barging into my office? I ask that you take more care towards decorum in the future.”

Max stumbles through an apology before getting to the matter at hand. “Y- yes of course I’m so sorry doctor it won't happen again, I swear.” He raises his eyes to his professor’s stern gaze, flinching back slightly as he goes on, “it’s just that, um, it looks like there was some kind of mix-up with my enrollment, I mean clearly you can tell I’m a Tenor right?” He raises his tone slightly and smiles awkwardly as he tries to make it clear to the man across from him that he certainly does not have the range.

Dr. Reyes rubs his beard, briefly covering his own mouth and wiping a smile from his face. “Well now Maxwell, there does seem to be a mismatch between your vocal training, and your preferred classes and yada yada,” waving his hands dismissively as Max’s face stains a deeper shade of scarlet by the second. Reyes goes on, “I'll see what I can do but all these changes take time If you must change your plan it’ll be at least a week. Until then if you could see to it that you fulfill the TA demands asked of you and attend your classes hm? You are under contract are you not?” The image of his signature at the bottom of contract feels burned into his retinas as he starts to reply, “well yes but-” An alarm goes off on the professor’s desk. “Very well Maxwell, if you would excuse me.”

Dr. Reyes makes his way to the next class smiling as he too thinks of the fine print of Maxwell's contract. ‘The student will become what the program asks of him.’ What a dunce one must be to sign that without an inquiry. Giving one last glance behind him to see the small student shaking with rage at the series of events, veins appearing to bulge out of his neck as he thinks about chasing after his professor, almost taking a step before grasping at his head. Max doubles over and grunts, after a painful second he rises once more and sees his advising professor enter a classroom. He exhales through his nose and walks to the concert hall with the undergraduate Bass students, the course he is, both legally and otherwise, compelled to assist with. 

The Next Week

Max is inches away from just dropping out. He was well-prepared to be constantly stressed from grad school but the wrench of working with students who don’t respect him and professors that are expecting him to sing alongside the rest of these professional bassists, it’s impossible! Dr. Reyes must be doing some sick joke on him, there is no reason it should be so difficult to fix this! He shouldn’t be graded for the university’s mistake. Beyond the looming threat of flunking these courses for his inaptitude he is also constantly hungry. His stomach rumbles and sends pangs through his body as he sits through each course on vocal instruction. He succumbs to stress-eating assuming one plate must fall and it may as well be his waistline.

Every time he indulges in his hunger he finds weight almost immediately piles on. Alongside his meticulously honed falsetto he has always enjoyed just how tight and small he kept his twinkish figure, though this begins to slip as he finds himself straining his tight pants and his stomach showing through his button ups.

The final issue lies precisely in his private vocal practice, in lieu of the training his program should guarantee. As he goes about practicing the arias and vocalizations that he typically uses as warmups he finds himself struggling to hit the highest notes. He works his way through them slowly and slips up, finding his range is peaking out much lower than it ever should. He grimaces and refuses to deign and see if his range has increased in the other direction. He goes note by note, taking his time to feel the stress and vibrations of his vocal chords. Reaching the pinnacle of the piece he strains to hit the high note and his voice promptly cracks. He feels a tear. He coughs and gasps for air concerned that he has truly injured himself. 

When no blood or further pain reveals itself Max finally clears his throat and drinks a glass of water. He tests his voice, “Uhhhh-” forcing his hand over his mouth before even getting a full syllable out. Eyes watering as he hears his voice is unmistakably deeper than it was not a minute ago. This spurs him to action as he storms to the college and bangs on the door of Dr. Reyes.

For his part Reyes is sitting at the desk finishing an email and grinning as he hears the banging grow only more fervent at his door. He finishes his email almost laughing at how effective he is at controlling the man at the door. Knock as he may he could not storm in if he wanted to, as he must desperately. Closing his laptop and reaching to grab a tea bag from within his desk he calls to allow Max entry, “Do come in Maxwell.”

Stomping into the room, unaccustomed to the new weight he carries, which Dr. Reyes is all too pleased to notice. He takes a deep breath as he prepares to shout at the professor, his chest growing as his already prodigious lungs expand. Before finishing though Reyes raises a finger and strikes him passive and mute. “Now Max, why don’t you have a seat.” He clenches his hands with a furor and sits, stewing in his mind while also rapt with attention. “How have you been liking your classes?” Max continues to sit silently watching as the prepare a pot of tea, beginning to forget his ire as he looks on in confusion at the man. Reyes turns once more and rolls his eyes, “Well go on.”

Shaking out of it Max finally starts clearing his throat a few times hoping the voice he has worked so hard to protect and train will return “I, ugh- Sorry it’s ugh!” Dr. Reyes leans against his desk and steeps the tea bag, eyebrows raised with a thin smile on his face. Failing to speak as he so wishes the rage returns to Max and he shouts out, “It’s my fucking voice! I came here to learn and all these classes are just a waste of my fucking time!”

Reyes pours the tea into a large mug and sets it in front of his student, “Now now, if you were having voice problems why didn’t you just say so Max. I am a professional after all! Have some of this and I’m sure it will set you right as rain.” The professor watches as Max grasps the mug and stares into it. He remembers that Reyes was already preparing it when he came in. But it’s not as if his advisor would do something truly untoward right? Sensing the hesitation Dr. Reyes’ eyes darken and he commands, “I did say to drink it did I not.”

Max quickly raises the glass and sips. His eyes remain dark and he continues, “what seems to be the problem with your voice young Maxwell?” Taking a break from drinking he starts to explain all of his troubles to the man who should be looking out for him. Gesturing to his clearly larger body, Reyes notices beyond the weight gain that the sitting man is adjusting himself as his pants begin to grow even tighter, his ankles growing exposed as if his legs were lengthening. 

He continues to stumble onward with his recollection, forgetting what exactly bothered him enough to storm in. Reyes half-listens and takes care to refill the tea cup as needed, taking in the physical changes to the man rambling and wondering just how far they will be able to go. Eventually Reyes speaks up, “you were having trouble with your voice, yes Maxwell?”

Max’s eyes glimmer with recognition and he almost jumps with a start, “Yes! That was it I couldn’t sing the part I auditioned with in Nessun Dorma and I was-” His professor interrupts as he takes a big swing at Max’s psyche, “Is that so? What were you doing singing that Maxwell, that’s for tenors.” As if a grenade went off in his mind Max struggles to reconcile and remember what his problem was, did he not audition as a Tenor? But he couldn’t sing high to save his life right? Or no. 

Reyes watches as Max’s brow grows sweaty in his inner struggle. He physically raises the cup to Max’s mouth helping him finish the entire pot of tea. Confident that the man before him is far enough gone to only latch on his words, Reyes offers him a bone, “which side of your range are you struggling with boy.” Feeling emasculated by the professor infantilizing him he feels an urge to test his lower range. Reyes sees the resolve in Max’s eyes and challenges him, “Go on, sing your lowest note, now.” Max takes a deep breath and produces a sonorous note sustaining it far better than he would have ever expected himself to. 

Reyes smiles and shoots to plant another seed, “Well now Maxwell, I’m not quite sure what the problem is then. Your range seems to be what any trained Baritone’s should be.” The word Baritone echoes through Max’s head as he once more grows paralyzed in his own mind. He ekes out a “B- Baritone?” his voice cracking even deeper as he freezes. Reyes watches as his eyebrows knit together in confusion, they seem to grow thicker as they near each other.

Vocal range and masculinity don’t inherently match one-to-one but the professor is more than happy to allow it, staring as the weight from Max’s stomach begins to slightly redistribute itself, it slides up his chest, straining the buttons near his collar. Reyes shifts to look at Max’s face, eyes lingering on the Adam's apple making itself unmissable on his neck. He sees peach fuzz growing on Max’s upper lip and sideburns. Thoroughly pleased with the acceleration he has achieved today an alarm once more goes off on his phone and he readies to send his protege off. 

“Maxwell dear, I thank you for your patience. Of course I know that you’d prefer to be with the other Baritone student’s though I am sure you are learning valuable information working outside your comfort zone hm? I’m sure we’ll have this snafu fixed by next week.” Max just stares in a stupor as he stares at his professor, the empty mug of tea still in his hand before he sets it down to scratch at his tighter shirt. Dr. Reyes offers him a kerchief to wipe the drool from his mouth as he leads him out of his office, “Why don’t you try your warm ups, I’m sure they’ll set you right as rain.” 

Just as he did last time he takes one last look at his growing student as he begins to wander down the hall, his pants swiftly turning from slacks to tight capris. He hears the echo of the man humming to himself as he walks down the hallway to his own office hours. He’ll need to be ready for whatever his Bass performance students need right? Can’t have them out showing him even if he’s still working outside his comfort zone. Just one more week of this and he’ll get to show off to the Baritones, once more with his choral cohort.

The Next Week

Dr. Reyes stays abreast of how his star pupil is doing this week. He visits during private lessons and checks into lectures on music theory and rehearsals. He hears the man force his voice to be stronger. After any challenge he hears the man force himself to be louder. When struggling with curriculum, surely impeded by the doctor’s manipulation, he clutches at his head as his body surges larger, tightening clothes that were already sizes too large when he started his education here.

He sees Max looking at his reflection in the mirror of a practice room. He checks his beard from every angle, tilting his head up to see his large Adam's apple and smirks watching it vibrate as he hums. He unbuttons yet another button of his shirt, allowing an even greater view of his pecs as thick chest hair spills outward. Reyes hears his voice power through the soundproofed room as he approaches. He has clearly decided to leave Baritone behind without any prodding as he endeavors to show off his talents despite ostensibly singing to himself. 

Dr. Reyes knocks on the door of the practice room and like an eager dog Max falls over himself to answer it. He now stands taller than his professor whose head now lies directly at the hairy pecs spilling from his opened shirt. Max’s eyes glimmer as he looks down to the smug face of the professor. He quickly sits down to lower himself below the doctor and eagerly awaits whatever is soon to spill from Reyes’ mouth.

“I must say Maxwell, you have truly outdone yourself. Truly you hold one of the most powerful Bass voices I have heard in my time.” Max sits quietly, his heart racing with excitement from such kind words. He struggles to stay silent, lest he speak out of turn, though he cannot hide the rumble in his chest as his deep breaths accelerate. The doctor struggles to keep it together as he sees a pulse in the unmistakable, currently growing, bulge in Max’s pants. He briefly wonders if he’s gone too far, before looking back to the man’s face, seeing his eyes still staring directly into him waiting.

Perhaps he can go farther. “Is it not a shame though, my dear Max, that you’re not a true Basso Profundo?” There is a loud tear in the room as Max’s body surges larger. He shoots up inches more in height revealing a hairy stomach and pubes that already spill beyond the bounds of his pants. Reyes hears a catch in his student’s breath and watches as his Adam's apple bulge even further from his throat. His cock bursts the zipper of his pants and Max moans loud and deep enough for the professor to feel it in his chest. Reyes can’t take his eyes from the hair covering his chest grows even darker, curling as each strand grows thicker.

Before losing control of himself and his desires Dr. Reyes forces one last statement through Max’s mind, “You know the department has always wanted a basso profundo coach. How would you feel about being an assistant professor, Max?” In response Max can only sit in awe as a look of what can only be described as pleasure stains his face, mouth lolling open as his eyes grow crossed. His hands clench the sides of his chair as he struggles to not lose control over himself and the professor. Thinking of staining the practice room only makes it more difficult to keep it together. 

Reyes feels a hunger within himself as he stares down at the massive man seconds away from cumming all over himself. In time he too will only know Max as the powerful man he is now. At this juncture however the doctor sneaks out of the practice room and heads to return to his office to prepare for office hours, what kind of a professor would he be if he wasn’t there for his pupils after all. 

Walking down the hallway he hears the man in the practice room lose control, his voice echoing down the hall before hearing him run out and to the nearest bathroom. He prioritizes increasing the soundproofing of the practice rooms before turning to see the new Assistant Professor sprint down the hallway towards the nearest restroom. Struggling to move swiftly or quietly in his far-too-strained clothing. Reyes returns to the desk and smiles once more to himself as he thinks of a future for himself, his program, and his new star Basso Profundo, before hearing yet another knock at the door. 

“Do come in.”

[imsrtman]

No Need to Apply

Here is my 1K special! Though admittedly it is nothing much out of the ordinary- Thanks to everyone who submitted prompts but especially the anonymous suggestion that spurred this transformation of a desperate twink into a cocky slob! -Occam

Brock really needed a lucky break. He had been staying with his ex since they ended it, but now that he’s sleeping with someone it’s clear that Brock needs to get his own place. Unfortunately the market is not being quite so accommodating to his urgent needs. Given that he is now to be living alone it’s evident he also needs the place on the cheap. He had been denied all reasonable accommodations that he could afford and was beginning to contemplate moving back in with his parents when he suddenly received an email from an apparent realtor he’d never met.

It was an invitation to an open house at some ritzy downtown apartment that he was sure was out of his price range. Rather than just tossing it to his spam folder though, he finds himself looking at the handful of images with a voracity, whether it’s simple curiosity or a fantasy to have such clearly luxurious housing Brock reads through the whole listing. Reaching the end of the invitation and looking at the specs he finds the rent impossibly labeled as just under half his monthly paycheck.

Nearly spitting up coffee all over himself in shock, Brock’s eyes flutter to find exactly when and where this open house was. Surely the demand for this place would box him out but god wouldn’t it be nice to just check it out and dream. He sends an RSVP and far too quickly the realtor, Lucas, thanks him for his prompt response, wishes him well, and signs off saying see you soon. Brock went about the rest of his day as normal, if not a little cheerier than he’s been for some time as he keeps finding his mind drift to that almost-too-perfect apartment’s view over the city.

Fortunately off from work the next day, Brock took the bus to the open house, stopping by his favorite cafe that just so happens to be nearby. He grabs a drink and finds himself preoccupied with thoughts of what a convenience, what a windfall, this break would be. He heads inside and takes the elevator up to the suite and hesitates before entering at the door. Odd that there is no one else here, he double checks the room and floor and puts his ear to the door to see if perhaps other visitors are inside already.

In his untrained attempt to eavesdrop he puts his weight squarely against the door, pushing it open and stumbling in, nearly spilling his coffee over the pristine floors as he crosses the threshold into the apartment. Light streams in through the blinds, only magnifying the manicured state of the spotless room around him. The floor is clean enough to see his reflection, mouth agape, staring at how impossibly clean the apartment is. The only record at all that the place had ever been lived in is the furniture that had clearly been procured by someone of great means, though one lacking any critical eye or desire for design. He sees framed posters of some real red flag movies near a large TV and some sports trophies lined on a shelf. Brock can’t help but wonder what could cause someone to leave such personal artifacts behind and feels a chill in the air. 

He wanders away from the entrance to stand at the large windows, his phone ringing as he takes in the view of his town. Answering without checking the ID he hears a man’s voice he doesn’t recognize. Though he knows this must be the mystery realtor on the line, “How do you like the place Brock?” he begins to reply before being cut off by Lucas, “Have you seen the view yet, it’s quite something else.” 

Brock feels something flicker through his mind as he gazes at the city blocks around him, below him. His eyes briefly catch on his reflection in the glass, though not long enough to see his eyelids droop slightly as he is able to reply, a tad slower than he usually likes to project, “uhh, yeah I know right, how could I not apply to live here? It’s almost too good to be true right?” There is another chill in the air and his body shivers before tensing up, shocking him back to reality and awareness to something strange afoot, “Excuse me actually, I’m so sorry, how did you get my phone number?”

Lucas clicks his tongue and speaks with an almost sickly sweet tone, “Now Brock come now, what can I do to get you to move in today?” Shaking his head in shock Brock is immediately, regardless of the clear sinister air to this man, he really cannot afford to pass up this chance. He clams up as he clambors to express interest, “No I uh! Of course I want the place, just send the lease over so I can read through it.” There is a real weight to Lucas’ words as Brock hears them, the cloying tone impressing itself on his mind, “Wonderful! That is all I needed to hear!”

It is suddenly dark in the apartment, but wasn’t he looking out the window? He can’t tell if his eyes are open or closed but he cannot see. Brock tries to move his head around to see, to feel anything, he strains his mind reaching for any muscle to flex, any tendon to pull, limbs to controt. He loses track of time and reality as he sits in the darkness, trying to grasp anything beyond his own consciousness, unable to affect anything. He feels his right hand move in a familiar way then he feels a warmth, almost a burning, completely engulfs it. He can almost see the shine of a smile, stark perfectly lined teeth that seem eerily inhuman and suddenly there is once more light. He gasps, coughs, and spits up over himself. Immediately grateful that he can feel anything at all. After feeling his body, and seeing the world almost entirely like it was before he lost consciousness, besides a copy of some contract with his name signed at the bottom.

He takes deep breaths feeling his lungs stretch and he starts to read whatever he has gotten himself into in that stupor. He reads the first few lines before he loses where he was on the page. Going again he finds his eyes suddenly dry, doing an uncharacteristically heavy blink that he can’t quite recall ever doing before and as he wonders this he again forgets his work on the contract. He slams his hand on the thigh in a rare show of aggression and gives it one last go. Brock makes even less progress this time as he is almost immediately overcome by a headache. As soon as he looks away from the sheet though, it disappears. 

Brock groans as he feels himself starting to lose control of his senses before he hears his stomach grumble, and he finds a purpose he can immediately resolve. He starts to the fridge, clearly something has happened, an episode or something, he can figure it out later, he just needs food in his stomach now. He doesn’t stop to realize that there should be no food in the fridge since no one’s been living there. Though he finds there is no need as in the fridge, under a note labeled: “To Help Moving In -Lucas,” Brock sees at least a week of prepped meals. The thought that this is bizarre beyond imagination, as well as the concern at his missing time, is immediately pushed from his mind as his stomach rumbles once more, his mouth watering as he sees his soon-to-be dinner.

Brock swiftly heats it up and begins to scarf it down, throwing something on the paying no mind or care to the thought that he’s using the account of whomever the previous tenant was. He quickly scans through seeing a handful of shows and movies that he wasn’t quite interested in before stumbling on a reality show he was watching with his Ex. He grimaces and almost loses his appetite as he thinks about his boyfriend for the first time in what feels like forever. He sets his meal down on the coffee table and crashes down onto the couch. He continues to stew in ire at his ex, palming his crotch as his feelings become more passionate. He rolls his eyes in irritation at himself and that jerk, he’s not going to masturbate to that asshole. 

He reclines in the couch and hears the sound of paper shifting in the cushions, pulling it out he finds a crusted magazine lodged in the couch. What can he do besides shout “what the fuck” and toss it across the room. How could they have possibly missed that in their cleaning? Brock’s eyes shift across the room suspiciously, though he notices nothing amiss as the room is illuminated by only the television. He looks at his hand that grabbed the porn and blushes, wanting to joke about the absurdity to calm himself down. Though his body makes its priorities known once more as his cock pulses and he looks past to see the magazine once more. He did want to masturbate to anyone besides his ex right? 

He shuffles to pick it up, the discomfort and anxiety from handling something covered in a total strangers cum only heightens his pleasure as he sits back down. He grimaces as he sees this is a real hetero-bullshit magazine, he quickly flips through to find something he can work with. His cock keeps demanding his attention as he flips through, almost impatiently pulsing as if to suggest he doesn’t need the magazine at all, just give it your attention. Though soon enough he finds an ad for some protein powder made to emasculate the reader into buying, that almost immediately helps him lose control. 

Soon after he once more fades from consciousness, his cum joining the plethora of other stains in the magazine as he tosses it behind the couch. He finds himself in a darkness that this time feels almost familiar and pleasurable. He once more feels his hand, this time though it is wet and warm. He feels it scratching in briefs that are too tight, through pubes that are too thick. He hears snoring breaking through the silence of his sleep, but that can’t be right? He would know if he snores, surely that fucker of a boyfriend would have complained. He feels his head grow warm as if he’s got a fever, though he knows it is a rage. He feels his hand feel even tighter in his briefs as his cock begins to grow in them. He continues to think of every slight his ex made, every shortcoming he was made needlessly aware of, and of how much better things are going to be now.

The heat shifts from his mind through his whole body and as light begins to break through the windows. That is not what wakes him up though, rather it is the heavy scent coming from his now sweat stained clothes. He rolls off the couch onto his face, quickly removing his hand from his briefs to catch himself, landing the stinking hand too close to his face to not smell just how loud his underwear smells. He feels his clothes sit weird on his body as he starts to rise, while his shirt just feels like it’s hanging weird, surely from the sweat, it is impossible to not see how strained his underwear is. He groans as he feels them pull strangely before he just discards them and makes his way to the bathroom. 

His eyes immediately latch onto his now exposed crotch, he does a double take as he notices that it seems distinctly larger. He also would have sworn that he shaved his pubes far more recently than it seems. He scratches through them, blushing as he sees dried cum flake off curls that are longer and thicker than he ever remembers them begin. Rather than hoping in the shower like any reasonable person would do he instead tosses on some boxers, not questioning why clothing that isn’t his would just be lying out, or why he would ever put them on. Instead choosing to focus on how right wearing them feels. He pulls them tight and turns wanting to see just how his ass and bulge fill them out, though is waylaid as his shirt blocks the view. 

He sneers as he takes off the sweat-stained shirt and tosses it to the floor, stretching high as his reeking body feels the air on his skin. He smiles in shock as he sees the body he has now exposed, he sees hair spreading across his stomach and torso and sweat dripping off of pits that were sure to stain every shirt he is to wear from now on. Beyond that he feels a body that is indisputably powerful, where there wasn’t even fat on his body before there was now muscle accompanied with weight in all the right places. His eyes then trail down to see the weightiest part of him by far as it bulges even lower in his boxers.

He feels an urge to move, to flex, to stretch, fill him as he hungrily takes in every new change in his body. His eyes trace their way past muscles contorting to land on his face, seeing a jaw that could certainly do with a shave. He sees his eager grin begin to turn into a cocky sneer as he begins to stretch once more, trying to will his torso even longer, trying to force his body even taller. His voice grows even deeper to his barely-aware ears as he closes his eyes to stretch, not seeing his throat force itself thicker and longer. There is once again a flicker in his mind as Brock is in darkness once more. Where there was once discomfort and fear there is now only hunger and an eagerness to grow even more.

He feels an itch burn across his body. He feels his hands dig deep into his pits scratching as hair grows thick enough to hold an odor that would never dissipate. He smells as even in this dreamstate he raises his hands to his nose to give them a post-scratch whiff. He feels the same itch cry out from his chest and pubes, from his lower back and his ass. He feels himself move his jaw as it squares up, a rumble in his throat as he feels his groans grow even deeper. He feels his mind thicken and slow as his muscles flex in his sleep. His arms do rep after unconscious rep as he feels biceps that should not be rub against a chest that has never been there before.

Finally he wakes one last time, his hand as it apparently always is, shoved in his pants, once more barely fitting despite wearing the spacier boxers. Brock blearily looks to see lines of takeout containers covering his coffee table. He scratches his beard using the hand from his crotch and he deeply inhales, two birds one stone after all. He sets out to get started with his day, tossing over in his head if he should masterbate again or not, a stain from a wet dream clearly showing through his boxers. Instead he throws Drake on his speakers and starts getting an early workout in, seeing to every part of his body getting a pump as he feels the hunger in his crotch grow only more urgent. 

Going about this workout Brock feels totally at home in this apartment. After all he’s lived here for? Uh? His mind empties as he looks around and sees weeks of piled up detritus and filth. He sees dirty clothes and cum stains on his couch. Looking past them there are his American Psycho and Fight Club posters, discarded underwear hanging off the latter, as well as the trophies he distinctly remembers winning back in college wrestling. He smirks and flexes tilting his head to sniff his pit. Beyond feeling at home in his apartment he also feels unequivocally at home in this, in his body, duh. He jumps to his feet with ease, his stomach rumbling as he once more goes to meet a basal need.

Throwing some of his favorite protein powder in a blender with some milk and eggs he hears his phone go off. There are a string of messages from some bitch asking him to come back and for the life in him Brock can’t remember who that little fucker is? Hearing his shake finish blending he stares at the profile picture of whoever this twink is as he starts to down it, wiping his lips on his sweaty arm as needed. The twink he doesn’t know calls him Brock and his eye twitches, ugh. Why is this dude calling him by his, uh? Is that his middle name? Or no he was Brock right?

He finishes the shake, tossing the blender onto the pile of dishes in the sink and his mind finds itself deeply conflicted. As ever though, his body is more than happy to assuage him, the phone vibrates once more and his cock begins to bring him clarity, demanding his attention once more. Brock’s a little bitch name. He smirks as he looks around at his sty of an apartment, not remembering how neat it once was. Peeking from under a particularly dirty dish there’s a contract that he remembers that he meant to have a look at. 

Bringing it to his face however he simply can’t find the motivation to even start. Why worry about this when he can masturbate, or fuck maybe he can get that whiny bitch to come over? His eyes trail to the end of the paper and see his signature, written clear as day “Adam.” He guffaws at this, god how stupid can you be, he basically forgot his own name after that twink called him uh, whatever that bitch name was. He feels his crotch grow tight again, that is kinda hot though? He moans to himself, pawing at his crotch and texts whoever this man is his address and to come ready to fuck. Adam feels no real attachment to whoever it is, nor should he, a hole is a hole after all. Saying that thought he can’t help but feel this hole is due to be taught a lesson.

If you enjoyed this I also recommend @fredwkong's The Voice in Your Head which explores a similar idea in quite a unique and captivating way!

[imsrtman]

Anywhere But Here!

The last thing Luke Carmichael wanted to deal with was this! He had just come back a...job interview? He couldn't even remember. All he could remember was the immediate past, the moment where he took out his phone and suddenly saw a message from the potential employer:

GOOD BOY.

He didn't know what to make it of. He didn't even know what number it came from. All he saw was the message and suddenly his body felt stiff. As if he was frozen, he suddenly dropped his phone as he felt stiff.

He couldn't move no matter how hard he tried. All he could think about was Good Boy. It felt so good to be called a Good Boy. He felt so mindless whenever he was called a Good Boy. And Good Boys obey. A Good Boy listens. A Good Boy gets ready to change.

Fuck. Luke thought to himself. He had something important to do, he couldn't get distracted. But as he was stood frozen, he continued to hear it echoing in his mind. It took almost all his strength to look down and realise the same phone he dropped was playing some audio message from an unknown number.

He had to turn it off!

Good boys listen.

As he reached for his phone, he found his fingers fumbling as if he didn't know how to control them. The phone suddenly felt like something that could slip from his grasp at any moment. As he tried to turn off the audio message, he found his hands weren't obeying, instead the hands began to warp and shift.

The sound of wet flesh moving and growing was almost enough to drown out the sound of whoever had sent him the voice message. But that was until he saw his fingers were lengthening, hands were growing, the skin tone was growing slightly warmer.

But the biggest change was how disobedient his hands were. He tried to turn the phone off or close the message or do something.

Yet his larger hands instead just pulsed with new life as they grew and turned the volume up, causing a couple people to look his way as his phone blared.

Fuck! He had to get out of here!

Good boys cant move away.

Just as Luke tried to move, he moaned as he could feel a tightness in his shoes and realised that he was stuck like some statue. His feet weren't budging and that's when they began to grow wider and larger. His toes pushed up against his expensive suit shoes and he whined, begging that the growth stopped.

But as if some force was drinking up his resistance, he watched as his feet suddenly began to burst through the confines of his suit shoes. They were left in tatters as his feet extended a few size forward, the pleasure of the growth making his cock throb.

"F-Fuck what's happening to me?!" Luke looked around, shocked as he saw he was getting more people's attention but the more he tried to move the more his feet refused.

Then the next message appeared:

Good boys have a good ass.

"No please god- ohhhhhhhh~" Luke moaned out loud as he almost fell on all fours if his feet weren't forcing him upright. He still leaned forward, a hand instinctively grabbing his own ass. The more he tried to push against it, the more that he could feel the ass fattening up.

The more he could feel it growing more sensitive.

The more it felt like his hole was empty like it needed something to fill it as his previously flat ass was starting to thicken and fatten up even more. Like a balloon it was inflating, like rolling dough, growing bigger and bigger as Luke moaned and groaned.

"F-Fuck! Please help!" He begged to the passerbys looking at him, some muttering to themselves and others taking out their phones.

Good boys are so horny.

"Please!" Luke begged as he heard the next command and found his cock growing. But it wasn't just growing erect, it grew an inch as if it was so horny that his boner was having to grow bigger to contain all his libido. He couldn't handle it at all as his cock grew tanned, once circumcised, the foreskin was growing back and his cock was drooling pre-cum.

Good boys have good bodies.

"S-Stop recording! Help!" Luke moaned as his muscles were the next to begin growing. Good boys were meant to have good bodies after all, just like the message was telling him.

His ass and feet weren't enough.

The tan began to spread over the rest of his body and the more it enveloped the rest of him, the more that his body changed. His torso started to stretch taller. His pecs pushed forward as they grew even more muscular and his previously skinny stomach started to bloat with muscle forming a six pack.

His thighs expanded as his quads and lats started to grow muscular too, like he was practically living at the gym. But his body was curated in such a way that it seemed more so carved to show off how appealing his body was rather than focus on actual strength.

But even with this strong body, he couldn't move and he saw more people recording what was happening to him. He held up his hand to try and block their view before-

Good boys show off.

He suddenly felt his hips gyrating, the muscles being slick with sweat from his anxiety. But now that same slickness was making everything all the more appealing as he continued to show off his body in all the right ways.

"No wait! What am I doing please-" Luke flexed his arms, unable to stop himself as he looked around. "Please! I can't stop-"

But there was a part of him that didn't want to stop. There was a part of him that continued to want to gyrate, to move, to show off his hot bubble butt or flex those sweaty biceps.

"S-Stop taking pictures! It's not funny!" Luke yelled as he saw more of the crowd giggling, phones out as he moaned.

Good boys are good at being dumb.

"N-No I'm not dumb I have a degree from...I mean like a paper from...Some important place!" His mind was already dulling down. Memories being replaced and rearranged. He was no longer some businessman that had graduated from Stanford and had experience working in business.

In fact he never even went to college.

He barely even made it through highschool.

If it wasn't for his hot body, he wouldn't even know what he would be doing, as he continued to get dumber and grin, finding satisfaction in showing off his body to a random crowd.

Luke shook his head.

"No- Please help...This isn't an act, I need to-"

Good boys cant resist.

"I need to...Need to...Cant resist..." Luke moaned as he flexed again, the dregs of resistance leaking out through the thick pre-cum that drooled out the head of his fat cock as he...

Good boys CUM

Obeyed.

Came.

Everywhere.

The pleasure ran so hot and good that it basically flooded his body, making him feel every last ounce of pleasure that his body could possibly create and then some. He came again and again as the people looked on shocked. But Luke couldn't care. All he cared about was being a good boy.

The Old Luke was no more. They may as well had been left in that office somewhere. You see Luke did get the job at the company after all.

But not as some executive.

No, he got a job as one of the executive's prized dancers for one of their more...intimate businesses at a bar. They would make them a lot more money that way with the way they looked and Luke giggled as he couldn't wait to entertain the men at the bar like he did this crowd.

He's always been such a good boy.

If you want to read more stories like this, then head over to my PATREON for much more including captions, edits, commissions and stories for all your transformation desires.

[imsrtman]

I’ve been looking for a fraternity to join at my new college, but none of them have really been letting me in. The only one left seems to be full of horny jocks that are dumber than a bag of bricks. Think you could help me… fit in?

FML: In

As you laid it all out in front of your friend, your plans, your goals, your desires, he just kind of shook his head in disbelief:

“I know that I’ve only known you for a few weeks, but damn that’s disappointing.”

“What’s so wrong about wanting to pledge?” you replied, “It would just make getting connected the university so much easier. Plus, the parties are legendary.”

“No I get it,” he scowled, “but really? Pi Kappa Epsilon?”

“Listen, they weren’t my first choice either. I would have preferred a group a little less… dim.” I knew he wouldn’t leave it there.

“Dim? Dim still implies some light on upstairs. You can just call them what they are: brainless frat bros. They think with their dicks and muscle their way through academics. I can’t believe you’re asking me to use my power for this.” He began walking towards the door.

I called after, “Look, I’ve seen you do crazier shit than this. You turned the guy upstairs into a dog for a week.”

He stopped in the door frame for a minute to chuckle, “If he was going to call the RA a bitch he may as well get first hand experience.”

“Please dude.” I stared at him.

After a moment he relented, “Fine. But are you sure you want this? You want to change for this? A frat?”

“Yes. And I promise I’ll get you into any party you want!”

“Fine. Give me a bit. But remember, you asked for it.”

He returned in a bit and tossed me a necklace from across the room, “Here’s your frat solution. Wear this to your next thing with them at their house.”

You inspected it. It looked like a basic chain necklace like you had seen other guys wear around “And do what? What does it do?”

He rolled his eyes, “And do nothing. It will help you fit into the frat, I promise.”

“No magic words or anything?” I asked.

He grinned, “Oh come on, think of me as better than needing all that crap. Now put it on so you don’t lose it.”

It fits well around your neck, “I’m headed over there tonight, I think it is the last event before they drop everyone. You sure this will work?”

“Trust me,” he says, “You want in the frat? You will be in the frat.”

When you arrive at the frat house, you do feel the necklace almost pulling you inside. It feels warm against your chest as you wander around, talking with some brothers and checking in with your fellow pledges. You get a sense of magnetism from it, like the necklace is pulling the frat house around it towards you. As the party kicks into gear, you focus less on the chain and more on socializing. But whatever it’s effect, it seems to be working. Brothers and other pledges are seeming to stumble over themselves trying to talk with you. Even the pledge master gives a knowing glance and tilts his head in approval. In a little under two hours, you begin to feel more at home in the house, more comfortable in the crowd. Maybe for the first time you feel a sense of brotherhood. So it is a shock when you step into the bathroom to take a piss and take a look in the mirror.

You don’t recognize the face that stared back. You blinked in confusion, assuming you had too much to drink. But no. The stranger in the mirror stared back into your eyes, copying your every move as you tilted your head and inspected your face in awe. The trance broke as you glanced down and saw the truth. Your polo shirt stretched against your chest as two pectorals firmly pushed out, flexing with each breath. Your pants had grown tight around my quads, now a good few inches short. They hugged your ass so tightly you were surprised they hadn’t ripped. Tattoos flowed down your arms, newly ripped and well toned. You noticed for the first time the power you felt coursing through your veins. You could almost feel your skin taut against your muscles as they slowly swelled. You pulled your top off to get a better look at the action.

‘Damn I look good’ you think as you admire the new cum gutters and still developing 6-pack. You try out a few poses in the mirror, just to see the muscles move. The necklace is no joke. No way PKE would drop you now, you looked like you fit right in. But, at the same time, you figured it may be time to get the necklace off. You didn’t want to change too much, and no telling how far it would go. You go for the back of your neck and and start to fiddle with the clasp when the necklace suddenly starts to warm up.

You feel the odd magnetism is no longer subtle. It feels as though the necklace is pulling against the frat house you, drawing it’s very essence towards you. At the same time, the growth within your body stops as the necklace channels all its energy towards your head. The sudden spike hits like a migraine, as you let go of the necklace and go to hold your temples. The necklace wants to finish its work. Your senses are sharpened to a point, as you feel the heat of the bros downstairs, taste cheap beer and seltzers, hear every footstep, see every muscle and bulge, and smell 100 horny men all at once. You feel the pure energy of the fraternity pull through your body as it shapes you. Beneath the pressure, your mind buckles as false memories push their way in. Memories of watching college football on TV. Working out during the summer to become a fucking stud. Playing the field as soon as you got to college. Meeting up with some brothers to get a foot in the door. Getting called a fuckboi for the first time on Tinder. Wearing it like a badge of pride.

Your brain throbbed as the energy reshaped your memories and personality, but your balls churned as it began to adjust your libido. They ached as they swelled to the size of golf balls. Your cock was rigid at attention as you grabbed it with both meaty hands and started to pump. Your body writhed as every stroke only makes the pleasure more intense. You are soon hot with the effort. An aura of testosterone and sweat formed around you as a frat funk sets in deep: a mixture of booze, yesterday’s workout, and cheap cologne. The smell only drives you more wild, and you start to feel your brain short circuit. Your mind, consumed by pleasure, gave into the pressure and lost any remaining will to resist. The necklace pulsed in time with your throbbing cock as it buried the old you. As you reached climax, you knew there was no going back. As you shot your load across the room, a new you was released. A dumb, horny frat bro ready to pledge PKE.

And then the door behind you opened.

The pledge master, apparently worried by how long you had been in here, walked in on your afterglow as you tucked your cock back into your pants.

“Hey man, you okay?” he asked before recoiling a step. You watched as he smelled your rank funk and nearly gagged. You took a step closer.

“Yeah bro, better than ever. What about you? You look like you’re about to vomit.” you said, leaning in a bit closer. You flex your muscles and let your pit stench join the lingering cloud. You feel yourself start to harden again as he tried not to react.

“Bro, you are fucking rank. You smell like a… like a-”

“Like a frat house should?” you taunted. He had stopped recoiling and seemed now to be fighting a different urge.

“I don’t know bro, you should get- get that looked at.”

His eyes were focused on your muscles as you slowly flexed them rhythmically to the music downstairs. I felt the necklace pulling him closer as he fought the urges he is having. Fuck, you remembered that feeling, that pull towards desire. You knew how to help him out though. You grabbed the back of his head and pulled his lips to your pecs. As his lips connected with your flesh and tasted the beads of sweat that rolled down your chest, he wrapped his arms around you and began worshiping your muscles. As he kissed and licked every inch of your chest and washboard abs, he gently rubbed against your rigid cock. It wasn’t long before he was licking at the fabric separating his mouth from his prize. But as he reached for the elastic band around your waist, you grabbed his hair and pulled him up.

Your mind reveled in in the power you held in your hands and the pleasure your new frat bro could cause with his mouth. But you only had one thing left on you mind:

“I wanna be in the frat bro.” You said.

He mumbled as his mouth still searched for your flesh, “Yeah man, sure thing. I’ll make it happen. You can be a frat bro. Just please let me suck on your-“

“No,” you boomed. You pulled him out of the bathroom and into the nearest bedroom, locking the door behind you. You grabbed his ass as he grew limp in your hands, “I want to be in the frat bro.” You slip your hand beneath his gym shorts and begin slowly finger fucking his tight, straight hole.

He understood his place as he slipped off his shorts and underwear, leaving his cheeks on full display.

He moaned like he was in heat, “Yeah bro. Please. I would be so honored.”

You bent him over and spat in his quivering hole before you pressed your cock against him. You didn’t wait for him to relax as you slammed your cock as deep as you could and watched him yelp in surprise. As you slowly sped up and heard him start to moan, you felt the necklace once again start to warm against my chest as its power flowed through your cock and into the bro beneath you. He too began to sweat with the funk of the frat as was remade in its image under your guidance. He was going to become just as unified with PKE as you were.

[imsrtman]

"Babe, are you sure you want this?" Gabe stared lovingly at his perfect boyfriend, Will's green eyes sparkling with affection. "Are you sure you want to do this for me? Will, you know I like you just the way you are."

Gabe took a hand in his boyfriend's, rubbing his skinny, pale arm with the other.

"Yeah, I- I do." Will smiled, trying to summon confidence as he started at the blue candy on the table. "Become your partner's ultimate fantasy!" it read.

"Babe, I don't know if I can do this." Gabe said solemnly. Will was perfectly attractive as-is, why would he want to risk messing that up?

"You know-" Will began. "You never know. We could end up enjoying ourselves."

"Yeah, maybe." Gabe's eyes lingered over Will's cute button nose, his nerdy disposition buried in a book being what drove the happy couple together so many years ago. "If this is what you want...I know we will." Gabe stated shakily.

"And I want to do this for you." In a rare show of confidence, Will leaned over and kissed his boyfriend softly on the lips. He reached down and picked up the candy, unwrapping it and holding it to his mouth.

"Ready?"

"Not quite." Gabe's hands wrapped around Will's head, pulling him closer as their lips pressed together. Will opened his mouth, letting his tongue mingle with Gabe's as the two embraced. The taller boy felt a hand wrap around his shoulder, another grabbing his leg, squeezing firmly. Gabe pulled away.

"Alright, go ahead." He breathed.

Will closed his eyes, and popped the candy in his mouth. It tasted like strawberry.

"Oh god."

Gabe stared intently as his boyfriend's eyes began to roll back.

"G-gabe.."

"Are you okay babe?"

"Yeah...just." Will panted. "Oh fuck, oh fffuck." His face went beet red.

"What is it babe?" Gabe asked.

"Ffffffuck." Will's whole body shook.

"It's really working isn't it?" Gabe asked, staring in amazement. Will's body was already changing. His lips were getting thicker, plumper. His nose shrank, and his hair began to lighten, his freckles disappearing. The muscles in his face contorted, his cheekbones becoming higher and sharper, his chin narrower.

"It feels so good." Will whispered. His body trembled. "FUCK." His voice deepened as his Adam's apple expanded. "It's changing me."

"Will.." Gabe was astonished. "You're..beautiful."

Will's face was almost unrecognizable now. His hair had become blonde, his once cute features having matured into those of a supermodel. He was even more handsome than before. Gabe felt himself getting hard, staring at his boyfriend's new, stunning face.

"Oh god. Oh GOD." Will cried out, his body writhing.

"Will, are you okay?"

Will's hair began to lengthen, becoming curly and unkempt as his eyes shifted from green into a sparkling blue. He gasped, his chest heaving, his formerly flat pecs starting to swell up inside his shirt.

"Gabe...it's too much." His voice was still deep, but now more sultry and seductive.

"What do you mean, Will?"

Will's face turned red, his breathing labored.

"It's changing..my cock."

Gabe could feel his own member throbbing in his pants.

"I can feel it swelling...growing bigger and bigger."

Will's cock pulsed, stretching out his shorts.

"Fuck, I'm huge. My balls are getting bigger too. It feels amazing. Fuck, fuck, FUCK!"

Will's bulge expanded, his shorts stretching further and further as his new cock grew to obscene proportions. Gabe watched with awe, his hand unconsciously reaching into his pants and stroking his member, a wet spot forming on the front.

"FUCK, it's so big." Will whined.

"Oh god."

Will's chest continued to expand, his pecs swelling up larger and larger as they grew into massive man tits. His shirt struggled to hold them in as a stunning set of washboard abs formed underneath, his body now chiseled and toned, a light dusting of blond hair spreading across his chest.

"Oh fuck, my ass." Will cried.

His ass swelled up, growing bigger and rounder, his once slim and perky ass now a huge bubble butt that looked like it was made for sex. Gabe's hand jerked faster, precum leaking down his leg.

"Gabe...I'm so horny."

Will's hands traveled across his body, squeezing his pecs and abs, feeling his ass and his huge package.

"Oh fuck...Gabe, I'm so horny." He repeated, his new body driving him wild. He reached down and undid his shorts, his gigantic cock bursting free.

"Holy shit."

"I'm so horny, Gabe."

Will's arms began to thicken, his biceps and triceps expanding as his chest and abs flexed, his cock twitching with each pump of his heart. His back muscles rippled as he stood up, his new 8-pack abs shining, his asscheeks clapping.

"Will." Gabe panted.

Will could only moan in response as his thighs swelled, his calves tightening as his new musculature became apparent. His huge cock dangled between his legs, his massive balls swinging below. His feet grew larger, his toes extending. His face was unrecognizable, his jawline chiseled and defined. His lips were full, his blue eyes piercing and lustful. His hair was disheveled and wild, his body a monument of manliness and strength.

"I-I...I love you." Will stammered, grabbing Gabe's face and pulling him in for a passionate kiss. The shorter boy's body trembled as their tongues wrestled, their cocks pressed against each other.

Pulling away, Gabe moved to speak but was stopped by a deep moan.

"Fuck, you really like 'em dumb, huh?" Will chuckled, as he felt the waves of pleasure from his cock begin to reach his brain. "You really want a dumb muscle stud to suck your cock?"

"Y-yes."

"Say it."

"I...want a dumb muscle stud to suck my cock."

Will dropped to his knees.

"You really want to make a muscle bitch out of your boyfriend, huh?"

"Please, Will. Please suck my cock."

Will looked up at his boyfriend.

"Call me Nico."

Nico leaned forward, taking the tip of Gabe's dick in his mouth, his hands squeezing his ass.

"Mmmm."

Gabe threw his head back, the warmth of his boyfriend's new, hot mouth enveloping his shaft.

"Oohhhh, yessss."

Nico's lips slid up and down the shaft, his tongue circling around the head.

"Oh god, I can't take it anymore."

"Do it, babe. Cum for me."

"N-nico..."

Gabe's eyes rolled back as he erupted, ropes of cum filling Nico's mouth. He moaned as he felt his lover's throat swallow every last drop, the light in his once sparkling eyes fading, the color becoming a washed-out blue befitting the new himbo.

"Thank you." Gabe whispered, the world going dark.

Nico stood up, wiping his mouth.

"That was sick, babe."

He picked his new boyfriend up and placed him on the bed, laying down beside him.

"I can't wait to see what you've got planned for me next." Nico grinned, looking both stupid and adorable. He kissed Gabe on the forehead and pulled him close, falling asleep with a smile on his face.

[imsrtman]

Drip.

Wade peered through his large glasses at the murky white-ish liquid falling from his ceiling into the bucket.

Drip

He gave a sigh of annoyance as his expensive gaming laptop whirred to life, grumbling about having to call maintenance and however much he was paying for this place.

Drip.

Wade’s nose wrinkled as a slight whiff of BO reached his nose. “Ugh” he shivered, reaching his arm up to check his pit. Dry. Huh. Wade turned back to his laptop, typing the first line of his email before—

Drip.

The sound echoed off the bare walls as the smell assaulted him again. “What the hell?” Wade turned around again and set his laptop on the desk, peering into the bucket.

Drip.

Wade gagged as another wave of that god awful BO stench hit him in the face, but then he paused, staring down at the murky off-white liquid slowly filling the bucket.

Drip.

He sniffed again, breathing a little deeper. The smell had become more intense as the bucket began to fill up and—

Drip.

His brow furrowed as he let a little more of the smell in, the bucket beginning to smell like a locker room or a runner’s pit on a hot summer day. "W-Wait" Wade stammered. How did he know what that would smell like?

Drip.

The odor made his eyes flutter slightly as he stared down at the bucket, his tongue darting out to lick his lips.

Drip.

“Mmmm” Wade breathed deeply, his mind blurring at the edges. It was becoming harder to think the more of the manly musk he let in. He blinked, feeling the front of his jeans tent slightly, his vision going dark…

Drip. Drip. Drip….

“Ahh! Wade shot awake. How long had he been here? His mind darted, it was dark outside now.

Drip.

His eyes peered back at the bucket, now half full, gagging again at the smell, posters now peeling off the walls, the surfaces slick with some sort of liquid.

“Agh!” Wade brought his hand to his mouth, suppressing the urge to vomit as he raced to the door, jiggling the slick handle only to find it locked.

“W-what…” Wade started to panic as the fuzziness began to return to his mind, turning slowly to face the leak.

Drip.

Wade breathed deeply, letting the scent of a hundred sweaty jockstraps enter him, the wave of stench sending him to his knees. His vision blurred as his mouth hung open, his tongue hanging out of his mouth as the fumes sent a shock through his body, causing his member to tent his pants, straining against the denim.

Drip. Drip.

He moaned as he unzipped his jeans, letting his throbbing erection spring free as he shucked his shirt and jacket, throwing them across the room.

Drip.

As the stench of stale sweat washed over him, his mind melted into the puddle of musk. His eyes rolled involuntarily as his head lolled back, his dick already dripping with precum.

Compelled by some force, the nerd began to pull his pale, thin body across the floor towards the bucket, with each breath feeling like he was inhaling a locker room’s worth of ripe, cheesy musk.

His hand gripped the bucket, bringing the rim to his nose and inhaling the fumes, moaning into the rim as his body shook. His eyes fluttered again as his hand gripped his cock as he began to stroke.

It was impossible for him to think, the only thing he could feel was the smell, his mind becoming mush.

He couldn't stop his hand, his strokes speeding up as the scent of musk filled his mind, his hand moving faster and faster, the scent filling him with a primal urge, his body writhing on the floor, his mind a blurry mess as he stroked himself faster, his mind lost to the musky aroma.

Despite the small part of his brain telling me not to, Wade knew what to do, reaching out his tongue to catch one of the drops.

Drip.

Instantly, his body was wracked with heat. Wade fell back onto the floor as sweat began to pour out of his pores as if he had just finished a long, grueling game in the heat. His glasses were quickly coated in a layer of steam, making the world around him blurry.

He didn't care.

Wade continued to stroke himself, his body tensing as his hands moved faster and faster, the sensation building up in his abdomen.

Drip.

More. He needed more. More of that intoxicating smell. Wade pulled himself across the floor towards the bucket, lifting himself so his lips could lap up the sweaty droplets.

The taste was incredible.

Wade's eyes rolled into the back of his head once more as the taste of the pure, unadulterated musk exploded across his tongue. His hand pumped his cock faster and faster as he lapped at the bucket. He could barely think, the taste sending him over the edge.

Wade let out a loud moan as his body began to shake, the smell sending his body into overdrive. He could barely hear his own screams of pleasure over the sound of his blood pumping in his ears, as he started to feel his body change.

His arms were the first to feel the effects. The skinny limbs started to bulge, his muscles growing larger, thicker, and stronger. Wade could barely notice, his mind lost in the smell. His body was shaking, his back arching as his torso expanded, his stomach becoming rock hard, his pecs becoming two firm mounds, his shoulders becoming broader.

Drip.

Wade continued to moan as he felt his chest grow heavier, his pecs growing into large, round melons. He could barely think, the sensation was so overwhelming. He couldn't stop stroking, his cock continuing to grow, his balls becoming two large, swollen orbs. His hair was plastered to his head, the sweat dripping from his body.

He could feel his body changing, his muscles growing, his ass becoming rounder, his hips becoming wider. His cock continued to grow, his balls becoming larger and larger, until they were obscene and drooping.

Drip.

Wade was a sweaty, writhing mass on the floor, his body shaking, his cock leaking precum. His hair was plastered to his face, growing longer and unkempt as the sweat poured down his cheeks, his mouth hanging open, his tongue lolling out.

Drip.

Wade groaned and whimpered as more drops began to fall from the ceiling, landing on his chest and causing his muscles to clench, his back arching. The sweat dripped down his face, his neck, his chest, his back, his arms, his legs, his feet, his toes, his fingers.

Drip.

Every drop caused his muscles to spasm, his body convulsing, his cock leaking more precum. His pecs were so large, he could barely see over them. His ass was so round, he couldn't even sit properly.

Drip.

His entire body was covered in sweat, his entire body dripping with it. He could feel his balls tightening, his cock twitching.

Drip.

He moaned and whimpered as his face cracked and changed, becoming model-like, his glasses breaking and falling to the floor.

Drip.

He groaned, the scent sending his mind into overdrive, his body twitching and convulsing. His muscles were so large, they were bursting through his clothes.

Drip.

Every muscle in his body was on fire, his body drenched in sweat. He could barely think, his mind overwhelmed by the scent.

Drip.

He gasped as he felt his mind go blank, his body shaking as he came. His orgasm was so powerful, his balls contracted, forcing the cum to spurt out of his cock. The force was so great, the stream of cum flew through the air, covering the room.

Drip.

"Ah!" Wade gasped as the drops fell onto his skin, sending waves of pleasure through his body, his cock spraying his seed all over the room.

Drip.

The drops kept falling, causing Wade's orgasm to continue, his body shaking. He could barely think, his mind was swimming as all paths of higher thought were permanently wiped away, replaced by an unending desire to bury himself in the pits and crotches of sweaty men. His hair grew out, becoming blonde and shaggy, signifying his permanent change.

Drip.

It was not for hours that he finally left the house; but the Wade who walked in would never return.