mcnasty0200

[mcnasty0200]

Colin Gets Flubbed and Fucked

Requested by expertofpossession

Colin O'Donoghue was a famous actor widely known for playing the leather-clad pirate Captain Hook/ Killian on ABC’s hit “Once Upon a Time.” He was a sexy, cocky stud with chiseled features, a killer cut body, and a smolder to melt gold. He was a super nice guy and a bit of a nerd who loved to play video games and hang out with his friends. One of his best friends was Josh Dallas who played Prince Charming/ David on “Once” with him. Unbeknownst to Colin, his leather-clad ass drove Josh crazy and he secretly wanted to pound Colin into the sheets, but he didn’t want to ruin their friendship.

Colin and Josh had just finished shooting for the day and they were still in costume. Josh in his leather pants and prince regalia and Colin in his tight leather pants and leather pirate ensemble. Colin and Josh made plans to go out for a bite to eat and were about to head out for the day. “Oh, hold on mate, I forgot my wallet in my dressing room,” Colin said. Josh laughed and said, “I love when you talk in character,”; he secretly found it hot as hell and he said, “I’ll meet you in your room in five, I’ve got to change out of my work clothes.” Colin winked and turned to walk out of the soundstage and down the hall to his dressing room. Josh was so turned on by the wink, he turned quickly to hide his growing leather clad boner and quickly headed to his dressing room.

Colin walked into his dressing room and closed the door behind him. He plopped down on the red couch as his leather pants stretched over his ass and crotch as he sighed out in relief. “What a day mate,” he sighed looking at himself in the mirror across the room on the vanity and flashed a sexy smirk at himself. Unbeknownst to Colin, he was not alone in the room. Flubber, a green blob of goo that lived in the soundstage building, was watching from the vanity. He loved to watch the hot guys on the show and Colin was his favorite. He was hiding behind some jars of face makeup and foundation powders as Colin smirked at himself in the mirror from the couch.

Flubber saw Colin’s leather-clad cock with Colin’s legs spread eagle and waiting for him. Colin took a deep breathe and pulled himself up off the couch as the leather relaxed around his thighs slightly. He took off his long leather trench coat and threw it over his makeup chair in front of the vanity, which startled Flubber slightly since he was busy drooling over Colin. Colin twisted his torso left then right at the waist stretching after a long day of work. The leather stretching drive Flubber crazy and he let out a rubbery scream as he thrust off the vanity towards Colin. Colin was doing hip thrusts and had just thrust his crotch forward when Flubber collided with his leather clad cock hard.

The leather was too thick at the crotch and Flubber ricocheted off Colin’s cock and started bouncing around the room. The force of the impact made Colin cringe and his mouth puffed up like a blowfish as his hands cupped his cock and he bent down. “What the bloody hell was that?,” he moaned as he tried to keep up with Flubber’s bouncing around the room. Flubber was knocking into pictures and lights on the walls as Colin struggled to keep up with the darting Greek blob. Flubber periodically whizzed by Colin as he ducked to avoid Flubber hitting him again.

Flubber was looking for another entry point on Colin and saw his leather-clad bubble ass jutting out with Colin bent over. He knew that was his way inside and he made his way to the wall with the couch and bounced off the wall just above the back of the couch. He let out a loud rubbery yell as he flew right at Colin’s waiting ass. Flubber hit the leathery ass and ripped right through the stitch seem and slide between Colin’s plump ass cheeks with ease. Colin stood straight up and thrust his hips forward as he yelped from the intrusion. Flubber slide into Colin’s tight hole in seconds as his hole clenched around his tail.

Colin stood in confusion as he felt Flubber squeezing through his body and up his intestines with gurgling noises as he hands followed the blob around his leathery body. “Bloody hell, what is this…thing? What does it want with me?” Flubber plopped into Colin’s stomach with a schloop. He felt the blob purring and jiggling in his stomach, and it made him start laughing like someone was tickling him. “Damn, it’s like you’re…tickling my…guts,” Colin laughed as he grabbed his stomach. All of Colin’s movements were accentuated by his leather clothes making stretching noises, and Flubber loved it to no end.

Flubber started to swell inside Colin’s stomach and expand out into the rest of his body. Flubber pumped into Colin’s legs as they shook and jolted out in his leather pants. “Ah, what the hell are you doing flying rubber?!,” Colin protested. Flubber next expanded into his arms which flailed as the goo inflated inside them with gurgling sounds. “Stop it Flubber, this is my body!” Flubber had filled into most of Colin’s body, and he swelled into Colin’s nice ass with a schloop and into his balls and growing erection with a slurp. Colin felt filled and tight as Flubber pushed up into his head. Colin felt Flubber taking control of his thoughts and he blacked out. He stood motionless for a moment before his eyes popped open and had a flubbery green glow to them.

Colin walked over to the floor length mirror on the back of the door and admired himself, flexing as the rubber stretched over his body. His eyes were still glowing green like Flubber and he flashed a sexy smile and brought his hand to his chin admiring his new face. “Oh yeah, I think you’ll do rather nicely mate,” Flubber said through Colin as he licked his lips seductively. He blinked his eyes and they returned to their normal bluish green pools. Flubber walked back to the center of the room and felt up his new cock, pecs, and his favorite, his new ass. They all felt amazing, but he wanted more to play with on Colin.

“Time for some updates. You won’t mind some upgrades will you mate?,” Flubber jokingly asked himself referring to Colin. Flubber closed his eyes and concentrated as he tensed Colin’s body as his body started to jiggle and pulsate. Flubber swelled Colin’s pecs and abs with his gooey form. His hard cock and balls bulked up with goop. His ass ballooned up like crazy, as the leathery clothes struggled and stretched to contain the new improved Flubber Colin. Once the growing had stopped, Flubber flexed in the mirror again with a sexy smirk, trying to not rip the leather clothes. “I think this will work very nicely,” he laughed as he gave his new bubble ass a good grope and slap, loving the feel of it hugged by the leather.

He squeaked his leathery way back over to the couch and sat down as his new ass strained the already torn leather pants. “I’ve got this great new body and no one to play with,” Flubber sighed. He felt his hard cock straining in his leather pants wanting some action. Flubber heard walking coming down the hallway and knew it was Josh. He spread his legs eagle on the couch and waited in a seductive pose. Josh knocked on the door and asked, “Can I come in? Are you dressed?” “All ready and waiting mate,” Flubber replied. Josh opened the door in a pair of sneakers, jeans, and a flannel shirt over a t-shirt. He looked around the room before gasping and shuddering at the sight before him.

Colin was laid out relaxing in all his leathery goodness and it looked like he had somehow gotten bigger in the last few minutes. Josh quickly felt himself getting hard and tried to hide his erection from Colin. “Are…are you ready to…to…to go yet?,” Josh stuttered, looking away from the sexy pirate. Flubber laughed and stood up, giving the leather pants a squeaking relief. Colin came face to side face with Josh and pressed his leathery hard on into Josh’s denim covered boner. Josh gasped and looked at Colin head on. “See anything you like mate,” Flubber asked with a sexy grin.

“Are we…uh…going to dinner?,” Josh asked. Flubber took in a deep whiff of Josh’s musk from shooting under the warm stage lights all day and loved it. “Well I am kinda hungry now that you mention it,” Flubber sighed into Josh’s ear as he pulled Josh into an awkward hug. “Dude, what…what are you…do…doing?,” Josh moaned. “Don’t act like you don’t love it mate,” Flubber said pressing his crotch further into Josh’s, “It’s written all over your face.” Josh gasped, he couldn’t believe Colin knew he liked him, and he wanted to have sex with him as much as he did too. “I…I don’t know what…what you’re talking a…about,” Josh said.

Flubber looked into Josh’s eyes with pure lust and pressed his lips into Josh’s neck as he panted. Flubber was licking Josh’s neck and placing small kisses on it, teasing Josh and making him harder still. “Come on,” Flubber moaned into Josh’s neck, “There’s nothing you’ve ever wanted to do with me cutie?” Flubber felt Josh slowly lift his hands up around his hips and he cupped Colin’s bulging leather ass as Flubber gasped. “I…I want to be…to be…inside you…Colin,” Josh moaned. Flubber chuckled as Josh timidly slipped his hands underneath his leather pants and massaged his big ass and said, “Ay, my ass and body are all your’s your majesty,” Flubber panted into Josh’s neck.

Josh squeezed Colin’s ass and it felt squishy and bouncy like rubber and it felt like it was purring or vibrating under his hands. Flubber looked up with lustful longing and said, “Come on love, don’t be a tease.” Josh lifted a hand from Colin’s ass and pulled him in for a passionate, steamy kiss as their lips smashed together. Flubber’s cock started purring through the leather against Josh’s boner and he moaned into Josh’s mouth in anticipation of the sex to come.

Josh broke the kiss and starred into Colin’s eyes with passion and panted, “Are you sure? This is so sudden…,” but he was cut off by Colin’s finger against his lip. “I’ve never wanted anything more than your cock in my hole mate,” he winked. Josh swore his cock got ten times harder from the sentence alone. Flubber lowered himself to his knees as his leather pants squeaked and stretched, trying to contain his ass. He was eye level with Josh’s crotch and started unbuttoning his pants, and he looked up with lustful eyes and his tongue out as Josh panted in anticipation and looked down at him. Flubber undid the zipper and pulled Josh’s silky red boxers down as his cock sprang up and slapped him on the nose and he laughed.

Flubber stuck his tongue out and ran it around the tip of Josh’s cock as he shuddered and then ran it up and down his shaft, flicking the tip like a lollipop as Josh gasped and winced from the teasing. Flubber stuck his tongue into Josh’s piss hole and then lowered his lips over his head with a wet pop. Flubber took Josh all the way in to his base and held him there for a few seconds before pulling up just below the head. The pirate’s mouth felt amazing already and Josh groaned, “Dear God Colin, you’re amazing.” Flubber laughed at hearing this and started sucking hard, bobbing up and down on Josh’s throbbing cock with glee. Flubber decided to treat Josh a little.

He made his lips, tongue, and throat pulsate and purr around Josh’s cock, making him moan louder. “Dude! How are you doing that?!,” Josh asked between panting. “Can’t tell mate….old pirate trick,” Flubber said through a mouthful of cock with a wink. Flubber started deepthroating Josh and his face was in Josh’s bush and he took a whiff and savored the crotch musk. Josh felt like his cock was being sucked by a horny sex god and moaned, “Dude, you’re better than any woman I’ve ever been with.” Flubber pulled completely off with a wet pop and looked up saying, “Trust me, I’ll show you pleasure no woman could ever offer,” and he slurped Josh back into his mouth with glee.

Josh was hitting the back of Colin’s throat but he didn’t gag once. In fact, Josh felt Colin’s mouth and throat vibrating around his cock as he sucked and it was getting him even harder. He couldn’t understand how anyone could feel so amazing, but he put his hand on the back of Colin’s head and started to fuck his mouth as Flubber just moaned in pleasure. He sucked extra hard every time Josh pulled out as if he didn’t want to let the cock leave his mouth.

Josh was panting and gasping as Colin worked his cock like a pro and moaned, “Oh Colin, I’m…I’m so close already.” Flubber pulled off Josh’s cock with a slurp and a pop and look up at him and said, “Oh not yet mate, you’ll finish in me but not yet,” and he pulled Josh into another steamy kiss. Flubber tongue wrestled with Josh and lightly nibbled on Josh’s lower lip. He put a hand on Josh’s lower back and pulled their groins together as Josh moaned into Flubber’s mouth. Flubber bite Josh’s lower lip in lust and Josh yelped and pulled away from Flubber’s lip lock. “Not so rough Colin,” he moaned.

Flubber smirked and groped Josh’s ass with his hand and said, “Ay, you give me the rough stuff mate.” He winked and released Josh and turned around. He pushed his leather-clad ass against Josh’s bare cock and swayed his hips side to side. Josh moaned ass the leathery bubble ass massaged his raging cock. Josh swore Colin’s ass was jiggling and bouncing lightly as his cock ground into it. Flubber brushed his bare ass through the ripped seat of his pants against Josh’s cock and they both gasped in ecstasy.

Flubber walked over to the couch, kicked off his shoes, and got on his hands and knees, leathery ass presented for Josh to see. “Ride me like a bitch in heat love,” he said in a seductive tone a motion with his fingers for Josh to take his ass. Josh stared with wide eyed lust at the ass waiting for him and practically tore off his shoes, socks, and jeans to rush to Colin. He stood behind Colin and gripped the black leather pants and lined up his cock with the tear. He placed his tip against Colin’s crack and the pirate groaned and said, “That’s right love, take my hole.”

Josh squeezed his cock through Colin’s big, tight cheeks as the leather pants strained even harder. Josh groaned as he slide into Colin’s virgin hole and both groaned as he entered the tight ring of muscle and his shaft sank down into Colin. Josh started pumping and thrusting into Colin and Flubber loved it. He started to thrust his leather clad ass back onto Josh’s cock with each pump, his leathery ass cheeks slapping against Josh’s thick thighs every time sounding like an applause.

Josh started to ram Flubber’s prostate and he panted, “That’s it…right there love…make my special spot…your bitch.” Flubber again had some fun with Josh. He made Colin’s ass cheeks, hole, and rectum vibrate and purr around Josh as he pounded him. Josh was in heaven as Colin’s ass started to feel like his cock was getting pampered and massaged by tiny hands. “Jesus Colin, I’d your ass pulsating??,” Josh asked between thrusts. “It’s happy to be playing with you mate, just enjoy it,” Flubber said over his shoulder.

Flubber’s cock was so hard, his leather pants could barely contain it much longer. He was getting so hot that he began losing focus on control Colin as he focused on the pure ecstasy he felt from getting his ass bred by Josh. Josh was pumping harder and faster than ever as the two sweaty men gasped and moaned with anticipation for the climax. “That’s it love…just a…a little more,” Flubber panted as he started to lose control of Colin. “I’m gonna cum Colin,” Josh gasped. “Do it love, make my ho…hole yours!,” Flubber moaned.

Josh was pounding hard into Colin and abusing his prostate. Flubber had been forced back into his original form as he lost control and he was pumped with lots of gurgling out of Colin’s stomach and eventually came to rest in his urethra in front of a sea of cum waiting to blow. Colin started to regain consciousness and was moaning in a dazed ecstasy from the breeding he was enjoying. His cock was ready to burst out of its leathery prison any second. The two were panting in a sweaty fog like animals in heat.

As Josh plunged completely inside and rammed Colin’s sweet spot, the two screamed as Colin clenched around Josh and Josh erupted inside Colin. Josh started pumping wave after wave of cum into Colin’s used hole. It sent Colin over the edge and his pants finally ripped at the zipper as Flubber shot out of Colin’s boner with a loud scream followed by a stream of cum. Josh was so focused on filling Colin he didn’t even notice Flubber until the green blob bounced through the window of the room and sent glass shattering to the floor.

Colin had coated the couch underneath him with cum and was moaning in a daze as he came to his senses. Josh pulled out of Colin and stood back to assess the situation. Colin lifted his head and reached around to his used ass, sticking a finger inside the tear into his hole and pulling it out with cum. He brought the fingers to his lips and sucked the cum up and laughed half out of it. He looked at Josh and sounded drunk saying, “If you wanted to breed me, you should’ve just asked big boy,” and he laughed as he passed out into his own cum.

Josh was confused as to why Colin suddenly didn’t remember deciding to have sex, but he brushed it off. He had finally slept with Colin and life was good. He snuggled up to the passed out Colin on the couch and fell asleep holding the spent pirate. Flubber whizzed through the night sky looking for his next sexy adventure, maybe with a model or an athlete he thought. Who his next host would be, he knew it would be a great time, hopefully with a happy ending 😉.

[mcnasty0200]

Big surprise (Black -> Asian *TF*)

Kevin woke up in a strange room

a voice said to choose a race.

"What the Hell?"

"I'm not playing no game, take me home!"

The screen popped up saying Asian or Australian

Kevin, out of curiosity chooses Asian. The room fills with a yellow smoke as Kevin is knocked out by the aroma.

Kevin wakes up as a fat Asian

"Change me back, or change my body weight!"

The voice let's out a chuckle as the room is filled with a black air.

Kevin is not knocked out but fell a weird pleasure in his body.

His CHEST balloons out to a medium range and Kevin let's out a moan. Next his abs became rock hard as he sit there and drooled.

He then feels voices in his head to flex his new muscles. He then has no control over his body since the pleasure gets to his head. He flexes his biceps as they grow bigger and bigger the harder he flexes

He then touches himself all over before getting to his pecs

Kevin always wanted big pecs.

The voice says "I see you like your pecs, let me increase them for you!"

The air in the room changes to a black mist

kevin feels pleasure in his chest and looks down at it as it balloons up

He let out the biggest moan as he squeezed his new pecs.

The air was still flowing in him and his whole body exploded in mass in one second

His mind was filled with different voices saying

"your a gay Asian now"

"your a slut"

"touch yourself"

"go to the gym"

He then moaned and went to the gym

He was known Hai Kang.

And he was the sexiest Asian out there

[mcnasty0200]

An unexpected guest

David had returned from the gym, he was sweaty and decided to take a shower, while that was happening a black viscous substance similar to a symbiote sneaked into his room, he hid under the sheets of his bed waiting for his prey to arrive.

David was already coming out of the shower, he was walking towards his room because he lived alone and he loved to have his balls in the air at home.

Once he got to his room he started to pose and flex his muscles in front of the mirror, but out of the corner of his eye he saw movement under the sheets which ruined his moment.

“What the fuck is that?” he said as she watched it move and moved closer to investigate.

“Oh, it must be a cat, it probably must have gotten in through the window.”

Keeping in mind that it was just a cat, David approached without any precaution being this his biggest mistake, standing next to the bed, David began to remove the sheet.

“Come kitty, I won't hurt you.” he said as he was about to reveal what was there.

David had already removed the sheet and the moment of truth had been revealed.

"I told you not to.... What the fuc---." He said as he saw the symbiote on his bed, he couldn't even finish the sentence because the symbiote without thinking jumped on David.

He was trying to fight it off, but he just had that goo all over his body.

The symbiote was expanding and wrapping itself around his torso, legs, arms, chest and of course his penis, it had his whole body wrapped up, only leaving his head uncovered.

"Please p-please let me go br---". Just at that moment part of the symbiote began to enter through his mouth, nose, ears and another part through his ass, introducing much of it inside David, making him look bigger and with great complexion, widening his biceps, pecs, hips, thighs and legs, basically his whole body was enhancing him.

His eyes as that was happening turned a shade of black, he was feeling a little turned on by everything that was going on.

- "shh there is nothing to be afraid of David, I am not coming to hurt you, I just want to make you into the man you always should have been, let your body and mind relax, I know you like what is happening to you, only now I am part of you, we are no longer two creature, we are just one mind and body, feel grateful for that."

A voice in his mind told him, the symbiote already had him under its dominion, he had no choice, he only had to accept it.

All the parts of the symbiote that were wrapping the body began to merge with David's skin.

That black viscosity was already one not only with David's body, but also with his mind.

David had not yet come to, his memories were being rearranged to make room for the symbiote.

The more it permeated his brain it made him more self-centered, more narcissistic, more horny, everything David had wanted.

He was still naked with his penis in the air, so out of his body that black goo started coming out forming him into pants and a black shirt that allowed him to flex his huge biceps he had obtained.

- “Wake up boy, it's time for you to wake up, it's time for us to wake up...”

David opened his eyes, transformed into a new man, an improved version of himself.

“Hey not bad eh, I look bigger than before, more muscular, I love it.”

David said as he flexed his huge biceps.

The shirt felt so slimy, but at the same time he was so turned on by the feeling.

- "I told you there was nothing to be afraid of, we're both going to be great, David".

“yeah, you were so right, I feel so new, so big, so horny, I could go fuck some guys right now.” The symbiote had also altered David's tastes, he was no longer a straight man, he was a horny dominant gay man looking for any guy who would let himself get fucked and worship his new muscles.

- “I love that idea, but first let me give your clothes a change.”

"I love it, this is sure to get those men's dicks harder, time to go for some fun and spread my seed."

[mcnasty0200]

Call Me By Your Gains: Baba Ashram’s Hookah Bar

No one really believed the rumors about Baba Ashram’s hookah bar. Everyone on gay Twitter just joked about it, that if you went inside alone, weird shit happened. Milo had heard the stories: cute little femmeboys who went in for ironic selfies, and came out changed. But Milo lived for ironic trash culture, and besides, he wanted a new profile pic. Vintage shirt, nose ring, cigarette not lit—he was gonna serve.

Milo had never been in a place like this before.

Even the doorknob felt sticky. Dust in the grooves, fingerprints smudged across the chrome. His delicate fingers hesitated before pushing the door open. Inside, the air was thick. Stale. Almost warm. It smelled like somebody’s older cousin’s basement from middle school. Hookah smoke layered over gym socks. Something sweet, but under it—a wetness. Like the corner of a rug that never fully dried after a spill.

“Christ,” Milo whispered, wrinkling his nose. He adjusted the Mariah Carey tee across his bony shoulders, glanced at his reflection in the dirty glass of the door. Skinny. Slight. He liked it that way. He had curated it that way. Being small got him out of situations. It got him attention.

The guy behind the counter was… not curated.

Built like he belonged in another timeline. Arms too big for his sleeveless hoodie, gold chain catching in a tuft of wiry black chest hair. His beard looked like someone had lined it up last week, then forgotten about it. Brown skin, but pale around the eyes, like maybe he’d worn sunglasses too much.

“Yo,” the guy said, already packing the hookah like he knew Milo was staying. His accent was hard to place, but something in it made Milo feel small. The kind of accent that came with yelling at employees and spitting sunflower seeds out of car windows. “Try the house special. On me.”

“I’m not… I don’t… I’m just taking a picture for my story,” Milo muttered, already regretting it. His voice sounded too thin here. The room made it feel fragile.

The guy smirked. “Yeah. Bet you are.”

Milo didn’t want to sit, but his knees did. Somehow, suddenly, he was perched awkwardly on one of the cracked vinyl benches, fumbling with his phone, pretending he wasn’t already feeling weird.

He tried to type a caption. “Lmfao I’m gonna smell like straight guy sweat now 😭”

Except autocorrect wouldn’t let him type “straight guy”. It changed it. Twice.

“Real man sweat.”

What the fuck?

He barely noticed the hose being pushed toward him. Plastic mouthpiece warm, like someone had been using it before him.

“One pull. House special,” the guy grinned.

Milo rolled his eyes but brought it to his lips anyway. He wasn’t a coward. Just one pull.

The smoke didn’t taste like smoke.

It tasted like… body.

Hot. Salty. Skin. The way the back of your knees smell after you’ve been sitting in the sun too long wearing sweatpants. Milo gagged, tried to blow it out, but some of it clung to his tongue like syrup. Thick. Clinging. The sweetness underneath wasn’t candy—it was like something rotten trying to cover itself with cologne.

And the heat hit him after. A wave. Not external. Internal. Like he’d swallowed the air out of a locker room right after practice, thick with Axe spray, wet socks, spit in the drains.

It crawled down into his stomach—and then spread.

He scratched his forearm. Nothing big. Just a tickle.

Then another.

The third scratch didn’t feel like scratching skin. It felt like his nails dragging across carpet.

“What—” he breathed, and when he did—

The smell hit. Not the room. Not the hookah.

Him.

It came from him.

A faint, oily funk, like the first layer of sweat pushing out of pores that had been too clean for too long. The bergamot lotion on his wrists smelled… off. Like it had gone rancid overnight. The scent molecules were fighting each other—fruit and rot, citrus and boy.

His shirt was itchy now, too. Like the fibers didn’t match his skin anymore. His hands went to his collarbone—

And there was hair.

No. No. Fuck. No.

Fine black hairs curling up in delicate spirals over his pale chest, poking out the stretched collar of his Mariah tee like vines creeping through floorboards.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. The group chat lighting up.

“Where’s the pic, bitch 😘” “u better not bail again” “milooooo ur our little slut 🥺”

His thumb hovered over the screen, but the letters were blurring. His vision was fine, but the words didn’t look right. They felt foreign. Annoying. Why were they typing like that? Why were they being so gay about it?

Something deep in his stomach flipped.

The guy behind the counter chuckled low, throat deep. “It’s kicking in, huh? Gonna look real nice on you, bro. Don’t fight it.”

Milo opened his mouth to yell, but—

“Yo.”

It slipped out. Not a scream. Not a plea.

“Yo.”

It sounded wrong. It sounded right.

His heart pounded. Sweat prickled behind his ears.

Another scratch. Another tuft of black hairs. Coiling upward. Claiming him.

Milo shouldn’t have come here.

He knew it from the second the door swung open and that thick, humid wave of stank rolled out of the hookah bar like a living thing. It clung to his nostrils: sweet smoke twisted with the acrid sting of cheap deodorant, body odor, cumin, and some kind of chemical lemon scent from the overworked cleaning spray they used on the sticky plastic tables.

It was gross in a way that made his lip curl, like he wanted to keep his hands close to his chest just so nothing touched him. This wasn’t his kind of place.

He was supposed to be meeting his friend for matcha. Somewhere with plants on the walls and overpriced pastries with flowers pressed into the frosting. Somewhere with aesthetic.

Not… here.

Milo perched on the edge of a saggy vinyl bench like he was afraid it might leave a stain on his jeans. Skinny, pale legs crossed tight at the ankles, soft thighs brushing together. His delicate necklace glimmered faintly beneath his oversized pastel sweatshirt. Nails painted glossy lilac, careful. His thighs, his biceps, his waist—all smooth, toned, curated.

Cute.

And that’s when it happened.

BRRRRMMMMMMP.

A low, sloppy fart blubbered out of him without warning. Hot. Damp. Heavy.

Milo’s whole body stiffened, face going beet red, eyes wide, throat clicking dryly as he swallowed down panic. He hadn’t even felt it coming—it just… slipped out, like a disgusting little betrayal, bubbling up from somewhere deep, foreign.

What the fuck?!

But then—it hit him. The smell.

Thick. Wrong. Like eggs left out in the sun, like old curry reheated too many times. Not the faint, clean scent of a little gay boy’s body after a shower, no. This was man. Rotting, vulgar, unapologetic. Straight man.

A second after, another burp crawled up his throat—wet, embarrassing, reeking of whatever that strange, meaty flavor had been in the hookah smoke.

BUUUORRRP.

“Fuck,” Milo hissed under his breath, wiping at his mouth with trembling fingers. His hands were starting to feel weird—thicker? Were his knuckles getting bigger? His veins looked a little… too pronounced. And was that… hair? Black, wiry little curls dusting over the tops of his fingers like a gross prank.

This wasn’t right.

And then—he felt it. The twitch. Deep inside his stomach, like his guts were rearranging, making space. His thighs quivered, a sharp pulse shooting up through his legs like static electricity, popping under the surface of his skin. He tried to cross his legs tighter—but—

rrrip.

The inner seam of his jeans gave a warning tear. Not all the way—but enough. The fabric felt tight, the denim straining to contain what was growing underneath.

“Yo,” came a voice. Lazy. Deep. Thick with that greasy, too-confident energy of a guy who used the word “alpha” unironically. “The fuck you sittin’ like that for?”

Milo’s head snapped up.

Behind the counter, a guy stood grinning around a hookah pipe, broad shoulders rolled forward, a thin gold chain around his thick, hairy neck. Heavy brows, scruffy black beard trimmed sharp along the jaw, Middle Eastern as hell, with that arrogant, half-lidded stare like he already owned you.

Something shifted again inside Milo’s chest.

Not pain—more like pressure, like someone stuffing gym towels under his ribcage, filling him out from the inside. His pastel sweatshirt felt tighter, riding up slightly to reveal a thin trail of dark hair curling down from his belly button.

He reached to tug the hem back down—

BRRRMMMP.

Another fart. Longer this time. Sloppy, hot, embarrassing. He could feel his asshole twitch around it, a tiny puff of wetness following it, like his body was forgetting how to hold itself together.

“Oh fuck,” he breathed, panic turning his stomach over—but beneath it…

Beneath it…

A strange, horrible relief.

It felt good. Wrong, but good, in the same way scratching a scab feels good even though you know it’s going to bleed. The heat in his groin didn’t stop. His soft cock was—swelling.

Not the usual cute little semi he’d get scrolling through Pinterest. This was heavy. Like a thing. Like something that belonged behind a zipper, stuffed down into some lined gym shorts, sweaty and half-hard while some beefy gym rat adjusted it in public.

His thighs itched suddenly. He reached down to scratch, and under his soft, pale skin—

Coarse curls.

Dark. Thick. Sprouting fast. His smooth legs were disappearing, overrun by wiry black hair that screamed wrong. This wasn’t his hair. This was the hair of that guy. The one blasting Andrew Tate clips from his truck, calling waitresses “sweetheart,” wearing knockoff designer cologne that smelled like gasoline and fake citrus.

Milo whimpered, eyes watering.

“I’m—I’m not like—”

“Not like what?” the guy smirked, exhaling a thick cloud of that gross, fruity smoke, eyes locked on Milo like a predator watching prey squirm. “Nah. You’re like that. You just don’t know yet.”

His stomach gurgled loudly.

The stink was everywhere now. Himself. His own body was turning against him, leaking foul little bursts of gas, hot and sticky, each one making his cock throb with nauseating confusion.

Milo could feel it happening in real time. Like he was watching a window slowly fog up from the inside, everything soft and blurry, like his real self was somewhere behind the glass, screaming, fists pounding—while his body just… relaxed.

His spine arched with a low, audible crack, like an old beam giving way under the weight of something obscene. His whole posture caved into itself—shoulders hunching forward into that wide, lumbering slope you’d see on men who bench too much and stretch too little, the thick, rounded mass of his traps pushing up toward his ears. His chest swelled beneath his cheap polyester tank, pecs ballooning outward like overinflated tires, the fabric stretched to translucent threads, tracing the dark curls of hair sprouting in wet spirals across his chest.

His arms were grotesque now—thick, veiny cables knotted at the elbows, the kind of arms that strained to hang naturally at his sides, turning his forearms outward like a meathead gorilla halfway through a set. A new, brutal layer of bulk rolled down his torso, giving him that dumb, soft bulk look—not cut, not lean, but puffy, thick, powerful in a way that said strength first, shape later.

One big, meaty hand—callused, crusted at the knuckles—rested lazily on his thigh. His fingers looked swollen, fat at the joints, curled slightly inward as if holding a phantom protein shake. His thumb scratched idly at the curling black hairs now coiling out in thick tufts across his thighs, soft curls trapping the sweat pooling in the creases behind his knees. His jeans didn’t fit right anymore, riding too high on the ankle, thighs straining with every shift of his weight.

He glanced sideways, catching his reflection in the darkened TV across the hookah bar—a warped, greasy smear of who he used to be.

His phone buzzed.

Gracie 🥺💅: bitch you better not be bailing on me, I wanna show off our nails lol

He could barely look at the message. His vision was blurred. The pink of her profile icon looked wrong to him now. Weak. Girly. Annoying.

He blinked. And realized he was manspreading.

Wide. Lazy. No effort to sit up properly anymore. His new bulk demanded space, his growing quads pushing his knees apart, denim creaking under the strain, the faintest dust of sweaty, masculine funk curling upward into his nose, tinged with old cumin and deodorant that had given up hours ago.

And then—

His lips parted.

“F—fuckin’ chicks, man…” The voice didn’t sound like him anymore. Deeper. Lazier. Almost with that Beirut-by-way-of-New-Jersey accent creeping in, vowels starting to roll heavy.

Burp.

It slipped out mid-word.

“Dumb bitches always textin’ about dumb shit.”

Milo froze. Eyes wide.

But his cock just got harder.

Another sharp cramp rolled down his back, swelling him wider, heavier, dumber. His reflection blurred.

Necklace still there. Dangling like a sad relic of some past life. Milo tried to sit up straighter, to adjust it—but his fingers were thick now. Blunt. His lilac nails looked wrong now, chipped, one thumb already chewed raw at the edge like he’d been nervously biting it all day in some meathead stupor.

He let out a shaky breath.

BRRMP.

Another fart. This one wet. The smell was criminal. Rotten lamb and protein. His stomach cramped and gurgled, the waistband of his jeans cutting into a thick, swelling roll of belly just starting to push out under his sweatshirt.

“Fucking hell…” His own voice—his voice—betrayed him. Thicker. Rougher. And was that…?

That accent. Somewhere in there, curling like smoke. A greasy Beirut Jersey slur creeping into the edges of his vowels.

Milo panicked.

“N-no. I’m not—” Buuuurp. “Fuck, I’m not like this—”

“Bro,” the guy behind the counter laughed, cutting him off with that deep, knowing chuckle. “Not yet. But you’re gettin’ there.”

Milo’s cock throbbed against his zipper.

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. It was too big. Not cute anymore. It hurt, like someone had stuffed something inside him that didn’t belong. Heavy. Dumb. His legs shifted automatically, spreading wider, denim creaking dangerously over his thighs.

Rrrrriiiip.

The rip in his jeans got bigger.

“Bro, you gotta get outta those skinny jeans,” the guy at the counter smirked. “Gotta let the gains breathe.”

“Gains,” Milo whispered, like it was a word he didn’t even know how to pronounce properly anymore.

He was sweating now. Heavy. His pits reeked. Not his soft Dove lavender anymore—this was sharp, acidic, Middle Eastern dad-at-a-summer-barbecue deodorant failure. Curry and stale cigarettes and something dark and fermented oozing out of his skin.

He reached up, tried to adjust his necklace again—

Pop.

His sleeve split at the seam. One of his biceps twitched, a new vein standing out swollen and angry across his forearm. Hair curled along his triceps, thick, wiry, jet black, already damp from his own man-stink.

His earrings. His pastel rings. All of it looked wrong now.

And then the voice in his head—the real Milo—cracked.

“P-pro-choice, queer rights, feminist—”

But it was so weak now.

What came out was different:

“Yo. Women just don’t know their fuckin’ place anymore.”

What.

Where the fuck had that come from?!

His cock kicked up again, pressing hard into the zipper, and another rush of rank gas oozed out of him, soaking into the sagging vinyl seat.

“Fuuuuck…” he groaned, unable to stop himself, palm running up his thickening thigh, scratching absently at the wiry jungle growing there. “Bro I’m like… fuckin’ hungry as hell right now.”

“Yeah, you are,” the guy behind the counter grinned, teeth glinting. “Protein, right?”

“Fuck yeah, bro. Fuckin’ protein.”

His voice was changing by the second now. No more soft vowels. No more up-talking gay voice. This was straight-up meathead scum, lazy consonants, long vowels like he was mid-set at the gym talking about how hard he “smashed back day.”

Something popped again deep in his back—posture collapsing even more. Hunched, one shoulder rolled up higher than the other, his thickening traps pushing his neckline upward. The necklace looked stupid now. A tiny little shiny toy dangling over the start of a hairy, sweaty cleft forming between swelling pecs.

His Instagram buzzed again.

Gracie 🥺💅: HELLO? where are you I’m bored!

But all Milo could see were the tits in her profile picture now. He stared at it like a dog looking at a steak.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ BUST in that bitch,” he muttered under his breath, not even realizing he’d said it out loud. Drool pooled at the corner of his mouth.

“Good man,” the guy behind the counter laughed. “Make America great again, bro.”

Milo blinked. Something in his brain twitched. A word. Something old, familiar—liberal arts, pronouns, critical theory—

Gone.

Replaced by: “Yeah, MAGA, bro.”

BRRRRRRRMMMMMMP.

Another hot, sloppy fart lifted him half off the bench.

His cock kicked harder. No more guilt. Just thirst. For tits. For steak. For power. For cheap aftershave. For Fox News clips screaming about “the border.”

Milo wasn’t gone yet. Not completely. He was still in there. But he was sinking now, the meat growing around him, burying him, turning him into just another fat, hairy, burping, farting MAGA gym rat with a bloated cock leaking pre-cum for some thick, dumb big-titted bimbo who wouldn’t even spell her own name right.

It was already starting to feel good.

“Yo,” he muttered, deep voice rumbling now with a nasty, arrogant tone as he finally scratched his swelling gut. “Where’s the fuckin’ protein shakes, bro? I gotta feed this beast.”

And somewhere, deep beneath the filth, the farts, and the hair—

Milo screamed.

It was like someone was taking a hammer to Milo’s brain—one memory at a time. Every time he tried to think, tried to remember, it was like some big greasy hand shoved the thought aside and crammed something stupider in its place.

He tried to remember his first boyfriend—what was his name again? Jamie? Jesse?

But instead— Yo, remember that glute day where I did like 315 on the hip thrust machine? Fuckin’ crazy, bro. I was like bustin’ outta my joggers.

He tried to hold onto that beach trip with his friends, where they drank kombucha and talked about queer theory and painted each other’s nails.

But then— “Bro, those fuckin’ chicks in Miami were askin’ for it, wearin’ that shit. Girls are fuckin’ dumb, bro. They love the attention.”

Milo’s face twitched, lips curling—but not in disgust. It was half a smirk now. The start of that lazy, thick-lipped douchey grin. The grin of a guy who would call someone a snowflake on Twitter.

And then the worst part: the voice.

“Y-yo, nah—nah, I don’t—I don’t even fuckin’ read,” he heard himself slurring, thick tongue fighting with vowels. “Only book I read is fuckin’ gains, bro.”

His words dripped with that thick Jersey-by-way-of-Beirut drawl, consonants getting lazy, vowels dragged like someone talking mid-chew. He was starting to sound like a guy standing outside a vape shop talking about crypto.

His belly growled. It was bigger now. His sweatshirt rode up, revealing the top of his jeans, button strained dangerously over the swell of his hairy, bloated gut.

And under his ass—

prrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrp

A long, hot, humid fart leaked out, vibrating softly under his now hair-matted cheeks. His thighs were sticking to the cracked plastic, sweaty curls gluing to the vinyl like Velcro.

He reached back lazily, scratched one hairy cheek through the ripped seat of his jeans, and then sniffed his own fingers without thinking about it.

“Mmph. Bro, that’s fuckin’ rank.”

The man behind the counter laughed, blowing out another thick cloud of smoke. “Yeah. You’re gettin’ there, bro.”

And then—the final crack— His phone buzzed again, another ping from Gracie 🥺💅.

But when Milo looked at her name, his brain glitched.

Gracie? No. That wasn’t right anymore. “Bro… who the fuck is this bitch blowin’ up my shit?” he mumbled. His thumb hovered over the contact.

Then— Delete.

It was easy. Too easy.

And in that moment, something shifted in his chest. His heart beat hard, one thick vein bulging in his thick, sweaty neck.

The man behind the counter leaned in, smirking.

“What’s your name, bro?”

Milo opened his mouth—ready to say it. To scream MILO, clutch the last part of himself—

But what came out was—

“Malek.”

Heavy. Lazy. Oozing that fake confidence of a guy who pronounces “gyat” unironically.

“Malek fuckin’ lifts.”

And it felt good. Right. Like sinking into a filthy recliner that’s molded perfectly to your disgusting, burping, lifting, MAGA-loving, woman-ogling ass.

Another fart rumbled up, louder. His new name deserved a bigger stink.

BRRRRRRMMMMP.

“Fuck. Yo. I need a fuckin’ beer, bro. And some titties.”

And with that, Malek—formerly Milo—shifted his sweaty bulk on the seat, spreading his thick, hairy thighs wider, letting his bloated meat press obscenely against his broken zipper.

He was almost there now. Just a few brain cells away from being fully gone.

Soon, the only thing that would matter would be gains, gas, God, and grabbing ass.

Milo—no, Malek—was sinking now. Drowning. Disappearing.

It was happening faster now. Milo could feel his self slipping, like he was clinging to the edge of a slick bathtub, hands wet, fingers failing. His whole life, everything that had ever made sense, was turning into static, one cherished thing at a time popping like cheap balloons.

His boyfriend’s laugh—pop. His first Pride flag—pop. The softness of his favorite thrifted pink sweater—pop.

Every meaningful relationship, every queer space, every beautiful thing about him was being shredded and replaced with grunting, lifting, burping, tit-grabbing bro-memories.

It was vile.

It was perfect.

Another fart BLASTED out, loud enough that the people outside probably heard it, felt it like bass in a passing car.

BRRRRRRRRRRMP.

In their place, new memories bulged outward, hot, sticky, crude, foul—sweaty strands of a whole different life invading his head, like someone was shoving greasy gym towels into his skull.

He tried to remember his first kiss with a boy—what was his name? Thomas? Theo?—but it was sliding away, greased with sweat, lost behind the roar of—

“Yo, bro, did you SEE the fuckin’ pumps I got on back day? Fuckin’ BLOWN up, bro.”

It wasn’t his memory. And yet… it was. It belonged here. And it felt good. Too good.

His throat worked uselessly. All he could do was grunt—a dull, stupid noise that felt better than words. His lips curled without his permission, smug, stupid, heavy with the weight of someone who thought alpha meant something real.

His lips curled into a smug, dumb grin, thick with the weight of a man who believed alpha was everything.

Then the accent hit—deep, thick, curling around his vowels like hot hookah smoke, lazy but sharp, soaked in that unmistakable Middle Eastern bite that made everything sound meaner.

“Ana agoolak, bro… these girls? La shay fahmeen shay.”

His voice cracked through his new frame like a busted speaker, rough and shredded by years of shouting at soccer matches, smashing walls, and barking orders like he owned the place.

“Wallah, bro, I’m tellin’ you… these bitches don’t even fuckin’ know.”

More images crowded his brain, shoving out whatever scraps of Milo were left: flexing shirtless with trashy cousins outside vape shops, reposting MAGA memes, DMing girls with nothing but “send pics, slut” at three in the morning.

And he was hard now. Big. Ugly. Veiny. Stuffed inside boxer briefs that smelled like someone had stored raw garlic in them for a week. The crotch was stained, the slit of the busted jeans revealing dense, greasy black curls matted to his thighs.

Another fart escaped, hot and bubbling, unapologetic. He smelled like gym mats and the armpit of a knockoff leather jacket. His own stink hit him like comfort food, rich and heavy and full of the right kind of failure. Not the failure of shame, but the failure of purpose, of belonging exactly in the lowest, ugliest place imaginable—and thriving there.

It wasn’t even gross anymore. It was home.

And then came the last piece. Not a thought, not an image—but a conviction, sliding into him like a thick plug locking the door behind it:

“Faggots ruined everything, bro. World’s better off with real men again. Know what I’m sayin’? MAGA was right all along.”

It echoed through his head like a chorus, wiping Milo out like a beach getting erased by oil spills and broken beer bottles.

He sat there, disgusting, bloated, complete, scratching under his gut, the waistband cutting into his new bulk. Milo’s soul howled—but it was deep, buried, like screaming from under thirty layers of gym mats, old socks, and unfinished vape cartridges.

Malek belched, dragging his thick palm across his chin to smear the sweat down into his chest hair. His Instagram feed blurred before him: girls with blowout lips and fake tan tits pressing together for clout. His girls. His world.

The last thought Milo ever truly formed wasn’t even a word—just a color. Pink. Something about pink. It was gone before he could even taste it.

Malek grinned around another bubbling fart, then double-tapped a bikini shot on his feed.

“Fuckin’ libtards, bro.”

Malek pushed himself up from the cracked vinyl seat, his heavy, thick arms rippling beneath the tight muscle of his stained tank top. Every flex was a thunderclap of veins pulsing like live wires beneath bronzed skin. His biceps were swollen, like grapefruits packed with steel—hairy, sweaty, and smeared with the faint scent of garlic and stale gym sweat. The rough calluses on his hands itched as he cracked his knuckles loudly, a smirk tugging at his thick lips.

He strutted toward the bar, each step thudding like a war drum. The flickering neon lights caught the wet sheen of his skin and the dark patch of chest hair sprawling from beneath the neckline of his shirt. He smelled like a mix of kebab smoke and old cologne—the unmistakable stench of a man who lived and breathed swagger.

And then he saw her.

Leaning against the bar, tossing her long dark hair over one shoulder, was a girl with curves that defied physics and a knowing smirk that dared anyone to try and claim her. She wore a tight, low-cut top that left little to the imagination, and Malek's thickened tongue slid over his dry lips.

“Hey, habibti,” he drawled, voice thick and dripping with that heavy accent, “you lookin’ like a whole feast tonight. Let me tell you, ain’t no one gonna treat you like the queen you are... except me, inshallah.”

She arched a brow, amused and maybe a little wary, but Malek didn’t care. He leaned in closer, chest puffed out, the scent of his sweat and musk hitting her like a wall.

“Forget all those weak-ass boys. I’m the real deal—straight shooter, gym king, MAGA man. You want a man who’s got strength and brains? Well, I got muscles that’ll make you scream, and a mouth that won’t stop tellin’ you how hot you are.”

He punctuated the sentence with a loud, slobbery belch, then smirked like it was the best line ever.

The girl laughed—maybe at him, maybe with him—but Malek only saw the win. He slapped his thick hand on the bar, sending a nearby glass wobbling, then winked, thick brows lowering.

“C’mon, baby. Tomorrow. Gym. Me. You. I’ll show you how a real man lifts. Then maybe I’ll lift that fat ass of yours onto my lap after, yeah?” He winked, thick brows drawn low, lips curling like a bully savoring his kill. “Make them libs cry harder while I’m balls-deep in America.”

As Malek stomped away from the bar, every step carried the squelch of sweat pooling between his ass cheeks, the thick joggers riding up, hugging the meat of his thighs. His boxers were basically soaked—half from swamp-ass, half from the dribbles of piss he never fully shook off after his last trip to the filthy gym urinal. Didn’t matter. Alpha didn’t wipe.

Behind him, the foul, eggy stench of that fart lingered, curling around ankles like toxic smoke, sharp with that stomach-turning blend of shawarma, Red Bull, and three-day-old gym sweat. The chick’s laugh had already turned to coughing, but he didn’t notice—or didn’t give a shit.

“Fuckin’ hell, I stink good,” he muttered, palming his crotch and giving it a lazy adjustment. His thick, hairy gut pushed over the waistband, his bellybutton a damp, matted crater of tangled black curls. The shirt stretched tight across his chest, damp with sweat, two dark rings spreading wider under his pits with every swaggering step. The reek rising up from his body was like a punch in the face—hookah smoke, cheap cologne, and that special rotten-protein stank only gym rats carried with pride.

A hiccup burp crept up his throat—wet, sour—and he let it out through his nostrils, sighing through the burn like a satisfied pig rolling in its own filth.

PRRRFFFFFFFT.

Another fart rolled out, hot and greasy, oozing against his damp boxer-briefs, bubbling like a swamp beneath him. He gave his ass a casual scratch through the fabric with thick, blunt fingers, nails stained faint yellow from constant hookah sessions, eyes half-lidded like he’d just cum.

“Goddamn,” he grunted, puffing his chest, admiring the way his bloated pecs jiggled slightly under the stretched tank. “They should bottle this shit. Call it Alpha Gas by Malek .”

He caught a glimpse of himself in the dark reflection of a storefront window: thick, hairy, beet-red face with that proud, crooked grin, like a horny frat boy who just keyed your car and pissed on your front door. His new accent—deep, messy, street-heavy with Middle Eastern drawl—fit perfectly on that filthy mouth of his, the vowels lazy, like every word was too much effort unless it was talking about pussy or lifting.

“Tomorrow, baby,” he muttered again, licking his lips, tongue thick, breath humid with spice and rot. “Gonna blow that back out so hard you’ll be limpin’ through the fuckin’ Whole Foods, thinkin’ ‘bout my dick while you buy quinoa.”

No thoughts left. Just protein. Ass. Weights. MAGA. Pussy. Farts.

And fuck, did it feel good to be home.

[mcnasty0200]

Paradise Pounded

Dr. Derek Langford had never considered himself a cruel man. Stern, yes. Principled. Perhaps a little aloof, with the self-containment that tenure and thirty-six years of studious living could foster. But cruel? No. The very idea would have made him scoff—quietly, privately, the way he always did when students asked for “flexibility” or “extra time.”

His office smelled faintly of old paper and lemon polish, a sanctuary of orderly scholarship. He still used a fountain pen. And so, when Vanessa Marwood—the leggy, entitled sophomore who had slept through half the semester—barged into his office and accused him of “unfairness,” Derek felt not guilt but irritation.

“My family’s gonna hear about this,” she said, but there was no real venom in it. She was too calm. Too still.

“I teach the words of Milton,” Derek said, enunciating. “Not the whims of privilege.”

But she didn’t flinch. Only gave a thin smile, unreadable.

“You shouldn’t have failed me,” she said, brushing a blonde strand behind one ear. “You don’t get it, do you? This class isn’t the hardest thing I’ve ever taken. It’s the last straw. My great-grandmother turned a senator into a roach for less.”

He blinked. “Excuse me?”

Her smile broadened, just enough to flash white teeth. “You’ll understand soon. You’re about to learn what it means to become everything you claim to hate.”

It started that night.

Derek’s apartment was as neat as always, a high bookshelf of postcolonial theory above his headboard, a tea candle lit by the desk, Coltrane humming through his speakers. He was grading final essays in bed, a copy of Paradise Lost perched on the duvet.

Somewhere around line 237, his eyelids drooped. Sleep overtook him.

He dreamed of thumping music. Of neon lights. Of the smell of alcohol and sweat and cheap perfume pressed into sticky floorboards. He dreamed of someone laughing—his voice, but dumbed-down and hoarse with drink—and woke with a start, heart hammering against a ribcage that felt… heavier?

Derek sat up.

The first thing he noticed was the heat.

Not the warmth of bedclothes or the hush of a cozy room, but stale, thick, humid heat—like the inside of a teenager’s car after a summer workout. It clung to his skin. His cotton t-shirt was damp. The scent that reached his nose was foreign, faintly rancid: sour deodorant, unwashed fabric, skin.

He reached for his glasses. They weren’t on the nightstand.

The lamp had changed. Plastic instead of brass. The candle—gone. Replaced with a crushed Red Bull can and an empty vape cartridge. He blinked, hard.

He wasn’t in his room.

The walls were not eggshell-white but painted an aggressive, tasteless blue. A tattered Bud Light flag hung where his Blake print once was. On the floor lay a pair of basketball shorts, turned inside out, and a crumpled jockstrap that smelled like dried piss.

He slowly turned his head.

On the far wall, taped with peeling scotch, was a poster of a woman—bikini stretched thin over enormous breasts, mouth in a dumb open-lipped grin. Her gaze followed him. He swallowed.

There was a voice, faint and low, somewhere in his mind.

“Daaamn, them tits look like a fuckin’ dream, bro…”

Derek flinched.

“Who said that?” he asked aloud, throat hoarse. But it wasn’t the question that unnerved him—it was the voice. His voice. Or… almost.

Lower. Thicker. More nasal. Like someone mocking him with a cheap imitation—one beer away from slurring.

He pushed the sheets off, intent on standing, but his arm caught his attention first.

His forearm—usually pale, lightly freckled, hairless from years of fastidious grooming—was now dusted in thick black hair. The skin looked darker. Oily. The muscles were… more defined? Swollen?

He lifted it slowly, inspecting. His armpit hair peeked from beneath the sleeve of his shirt—except it wasn’t his shirt. It was a cheap, sleeveless tank in gray, the armholes loose enough to expose far too much of his side. The scent of his own sweat hit him again, stronger now, coming from his own body, a pungent, unwashed musk that made him recoil.

He stood shakily, bracing against the unfamiliar mattress. His feet touched a beer-sticky floor, and something squelched beneath his sole. He staggered toward the mirror.

The man looking back at him was not a stranger. But he wasn’t Derek either.

He was younger. Early twenties, maybe. But dumb-looking. The features were thickened and coarsened. Nose slightly crooked from some forgotten bro brawl. The jawline was strong but brutish. The skin was tan—unnaturally so, as if tanned by booth or bottle. His hair was short on the sides, long and stiff on top, frozen in place with enough gel to look wet even in the dim light. And his expression… his eyes had a kind of glazed over, horny blankness.

Derek touched his own cheek. The man in the mirror did the same. His hand felt strange against his face—coarser, broader, callused. Football hands.

His stomach flipped.

“Bro. Broooo. What the fuck…” he muttered, and the sound of it—the cadence, the vowels rounded and flat—horrified him.

The thoughts were coming faster now. Dumber. Loud and lewd and alien.

“Yo that chick on the poster got some milkers. Shiiit, I'd suck on those like a baby at brunch, dawg.”

Derek backed away from the mirror, knees weak, breathing shallow.

“No. This is a dream,” he said. “This is—this is absurd.”

He turned in circles, searching for some sign of the life he knew. There was none. No books. No suits. No tea or poetry or—

A wave of nausea hit him as a loud belch escaped his lips. It tasted like beer. Cheap beer.

His stomach growled. His dick twitched.

He caught another whiff of himself and winced. The stink was coming from everywhere. Pits. Groin. Feet. It was thick, ripe, stupid. The smell of a guy who lived on Taco Bell and protein shakes. The kind of stink that lingered.

Derek pressed his palms to his temples.

There was something slipping. A border, a boundary—like a silk curtain slowly burning away.

Somewhere beneath the surface, something else was waking up.

And it was hungry.

He gripped the edges of the plastic dresser as if it could anchor him to something sane. But his hands were twitching. His body didn’t want stillness anymore—it wanted motion. Crude, primal. He was trembling with… with something close to arousal. Or rage. Or both.

His breath hit the mirror. It fogged. He watched it fade slowly, revealing that thick-jawed moron again.

And then—he felt it. A sudden throb. A rush of blood below.

“No. God no, please,” he whispered.

But his cock—his new, fat, veiny, slightly curved cock—was growing hard in his shorts, stiffening like a dumb eager beast. It strained against cheap mesh. A wet patch began to spread.

He whimpered—though even that was a brutish, low-throated grunt.

“Fuckin’ hoooorny,” he moaned, voice like gravel wrapped in lube.

And suddenly there were images—slutty ones, cartoonishly vulgar. Tits the size of bowling balls. Spray-tanned asses bouncing in club bathrooms. A bimbo bent over the hood of a Camaro, calling him “daddy.” And he was there, grinning like an animal, sweat pouring from his gelled scalp, pounding her while calling her a “fuckin’ cum dumpster.”

He slapped himself across the face. It didn’t help.

The voice inside him was louder now. No longer commentary. Now commanding.

“Yo bro, stroke that fat fuckin’ meat. You know you wanna bust a fat one. Big ol’ Jersey load, baby. Shiiiiiit.”

“No, no, I’m not—this isn’t—” he panted, collapsing backward into a filthy beanbag chair that reeked of ass and weed. His thighs were hairy, sweaty, thick with muscle and grime. His tank top had risen, revealing the burgeoning patch of coarse black chest hair crawling up to his collarbones.

His hand moved down. Automatically.

The first tug made him gasp. It was wrong—everything was wrong—and yet his body loved it. His strokes were fast, brutal, careless, like a guy who’d never read a book but knew every Brazzers video by title.

“Yeeeeah,” he groaned, hips bucking. “Gimme them fuckin’ tits, baby. I’mma nut on your face, bimbo.”

That voice.

That was his voice now.

And it was getting dumber by the second.

His moans were interrupted by wet gasps—burps, each one deep and beer-thick. His whole gut was bubbling. He felt like he hadn’t eaten a vegetable in weeks. Just protein shakes, mozzarella sticks, and cheap pussy.

He belched again, long and guttural. “Uuuuurrrp—damn, that fuckin’ stank.”

He sniffed his own pit—and groaned in pleasure. It was rank. Vinegary, dense, like gym towels left in a car trunk. His face sank into it, eyes fluttering. “Mmmf, fuck yeah, Vincey smellin’ ripe today.”

Vincey.

The name echoed through his mind.

Yes. That’s what they called him now. Vincey DeMarco. Former club promoter. Local legend. Dropout. Dick-swinging, axe-spraying, woman-slaying, tan-drenched king of the fuckin’ boardwalk.

“Who the hell is Derek?” he muttered through a thick Jersey sneer, lips curling around the name like a foreign object.

He grunted, eyes rolling back as he reached climax, spewing a foul, dumb load all over his hairy abs and chest. It reeked of frat house bedsheets. His tongue lolled out.

And something… left him in that moment.

Something quiet. Intelligent. Gay. Human.

Something that once read poems in bed and had opinions on Sontag.

And what filled the void was heat. Swagger. Smug idiocy. Pussy hunger.

Vincey cackled as he wiped himself on a crusty gym sock. “Fuckin’ blew a thick one. Shitttt.”

His voice was fully transformed now. Jersey Shore guido, turned up to eleven. The accent. The attitude. The complete lack of shame.

He scratched his belly and stood, stretching his big dumb muscles in the mirror, admiring the crude symmetry of his roided frame.

“Yo,” he said to no one, cock swinging, “I gotta go fuckin’ prank someone. Or fuck someone. Or fuckin’ prank a bitch while I’m fuckin’ her. That’d be fuckin’ lit.”

And with that, he reached for his gold chain, slipped on a pair of saggy joggers, and strutted toward the hallway reeking of cologne and sweat, bellowing:

“YOOOOO WHO’S DOWN TO GET FUCKIN’ BLACKOUT WITH VINCEY?”

By noon, Vincey had eaten half a pepperoni pizza and two mozzarella sticks, shirtless, reclined on a lawn chair in the back alley behind his apartment complex. The box rested on his lap. His right hand absentmindedly scratched under one thick, sweaty pec. His left scrolled aimlessly through his cracked phone, thumb hovering over bikini pics and thirst traps.

“Yo… bruh… these tits are, like, illegal or somethin’, swear to God,” he muttered, biting into another oily slice. A string of cheese slapped his chin. He didn’t wipe it.

He hadn’t showered. His body reeked—rank armpits, stale cum, Axe body spray, pepperoni grease, and something else more primal. Like dried testosterone.

The tank top lay forgotten, balled up and thrown at the alley wall, soaked with yesterday’s sweat. His joggers sagged low, revealing the elastic of some knock-off brand boxers he’d clearly worn three days straight. His abs—still present, but filthy—shone with oil and pizza grease.

Across the street, women passed. He leaned forward, fingers digging between his thighs, not even hiding it.

“Dayum, girl,” he called out, licking grease from his thumb. “You want a taste’a Vincey’s meat lovers special? C’mon baby, I know you hungry.”

The women grimaced. One muttered disgusting. Vincey smirked and farted in response.

“Bitch loves it,” he grunted proudly to no one.

Later, on the boardwalk, Vincey strutted shirtless into Caffè Primula, a local espresso joint.

He had no wallet. No shirt. No shoes. Just a chain, some sweat, and a sticky twenty crumpled in the waistband of his joggers. The barista, a pretty twenty-something in a floral dress, looked up.

“Hi there, uh—sir—could you… maybe put on a shirt?”

Vincey grinned wide. “Only if you promise to take yours off first, babe.”

He walked up, stinking of musk and bravado, and leaned on the counter like he owned it. A bead of sweat dripped from his nipple onto the tip jar.

The barista gagged, physically recoiling. “You… can’t be in here like this.”

“Oh I can, sweetheart,” he said, pressing his bulge to the counter. “I’m Vincey fuckin’ DeMarco. And this body’s a public service.”

That’s when someone stepped forward.

“Derek?”

The voice was quiet. Hesitant. Familiar.

Vincey turned lazily. Behind him stood a woman in her fifties—dressed in soft tweed, her glasses perched on a long, patrician nose. Dr. Elaine Roth, head of the English department. She looked pale.

“It’s… Derek Langford. Isn’t it? What the hell—what happened to you?”

Vincey squinted. Then smirked. “Damn, lady, you lookin’ for a ride or a lecture?”

Elaine blinked. “My God. Derek, it’s me—Elaine. We were on the tenure committee together. You—this isn’t funny.”

He grinned wider. “Derek? That a dude’s name? Sounds like a fuckin’ nerd. I ain’t that dude. I’m Vincey. Vincey D, baby. King of cum. Slayer of sluts. Full-time legend, part-time DJ.”

He flexed, proudly, as if that proved something.

Elaine took a step back. “What… what did you do to yourself?”

“I upgraded,” Vincey said, belching into his fist. “That professor shit? Gay as hell. Now I got freedom. Titties. Muscle. And a cock that commands respect.”

He grabbed it through his pants and thrust. Several patrons gasped. The barista called the manager.

Elaine looked like she might cry.

“You had a book deal,” she whispered. “You were going to teach at Oxford.”

“I’m teachin’ now, baby,” Vincey said, licking his lips. “Lesson number one: bitch loves a bad boy. Lesson two: you gotta eat ass before class.”

A manager approached, face red. “Sir, you need to leave—now.”

Vincey grabbed a biscotti from the case, snapped it in half with his teeth, and tossed a sticky twenty on the counter.

“Fuckin’ uptight nerds. You’re just mad I’m free.”

He walked out shirtless, leaving a trail of sweat, cocky swagger, and horror behind him.

Elaine stood frozen, hands shaking.

Somewhere, buried beneath Vincey’s chest hair, something flickered. Just for a second.

The memory of a syllabus. A library. A soft morning with tea.

It tried to surface.

But a wet fart bubbled out, and Vincey giggled.

“Fuck I’m hungry. I need a breakfast burrito and a bitch to bend over the table.”

He grabbed his crotch and kept walking.

Derek Langford was gone.

Vincey never remembered the girl’s name.

Might’ve been Kayla. Could’ve been Krystal. All he remembered was the ass: big, bronzed, soft in all the right ways, jiggling under that tiny mesh skirt when she bent over the bar to order vodka Red Bulls for both of them.

He hadn’t even bought her a drink.

She’d just looked at him—at his muscles, at the swagger, the gold chain dripping in his chest hair—and said:

“You look like you got daddy energy.”

He replied with: “Bitch, I am daddy.”

Twenty minutes later, they were in the club bathroom. Door locked. Her legs wrapped around his waist, panties shoved to the side, heels digging into the wall while Vincey pounded her against the cracked mirror, sweat flying off his neck like rain.

He moaned. No, not moaned—grunted. Loud, deep, primal.

Every thrust punctuated with:

“Ugh—take it—fuck yeah—take that daddy dick—fuckin’—ugh—yo this pussy’s gettin’ wrecked—”

Her moans were high-pitched. Performed. She didn’t care about him. She just wanted the clip.

Because her friend had already pulled out her phone. And was filming.

A vertical video: Vincey’s glistening back muscles flexing, his thick arms holding the girl up like she weighed nothing, the bass from the club bleeding through the wall, and Vincey’s own idiotic, euphoric, open-mouthed face staring into the mirror, lip curled in smug ecstasy.

He grunted something like: “I’m the fuckin’ alpha of TikTok, baby!” and finished all over her stomach, laughing as she wiped it with a club napkin.

The friend uploaded it to TikTok with a caption:

“THIS MAN IS A FUCKING LEGEND 🫡🍆 #JerseyKing #BreedMeDaddy #GuidoEnergy #ClubAlpha”

It exploded in hours.

By the next morning, Vincey had 2.1 million views, and twenty-eight new DMs. Half of them were bimbos asking to get “wrecked next.” The other half were guys asking for “his workout split and cum retention tips.”

He posted a follow-up video, squatting on the toilet, shirtless, hair wet with gel, holding a half-eaten burrito.

“Yooo I told y’all! Vincey’s bringin’ the fuckin’ thunder to TikTok, baby!” he said, talking with his mouth full. “If you a real bitch, come find me at Shore Bar on Friday. First one to twerk in my lap gets a free cream pie.”

He winked.

Farted.

Laughed.

The video hit 500k in an hour.

Someone stitched it: “The downfall of Western Civilization.”

Vincey reposted it with “FUCK YEAH BROOO” and a clip of him humping the air to a Jersey club remix of the Friends theme.

Meanwhile, the witch—Vanessa Marwood—watched from her dorm, a steaming mug of tea in hand. Her phone glowed.

She was delighted.

Vincey was trending. Derek Langford was gone. No essays. No tweed. No Oxford lectures. Just that dumb, horny, sweaty, viral himbo getting brain from sorority dropouts and calling it “justice.”

Her roommate glanced over. “Is that the professor who failed you?”

Vanessa smiled, eyes twinkling. “Not anymore.”

Back in Vincey’s apartment, the original copy of Paradise Lost still lay beneath the futon, pages damp, warped with spilled beer and jizz. Vincey didn’t even notice it anymore. He only noticed his DMs, his abs, and his next nut.

“Damn, I gotta go bust again,” he muttered, grabbing his cock as another fan begged for “just one sniff of your tank top.”

He grinned.

“Bro… I’m a fuckin’ God.”

[mcnasty0200]

Tharnis I hope you're still listening. I love my boyfriend. He's such an adorable little twink and has that perfect level of gay sass. But we all know I'm the more dominant one in the relationship and a total top. The other day though he asked if we could switch things up. He thinks it would be fun if he could be the dominant one and I take the submissive bottom role. I nearly laughed but he was so serious. I don't want him to feel bad. Tharnis I wish you could make this work for us somehow.

You’ve always liked how you looked next to him.

In every mirror selfie, every brunch group pic, every messy pillow-smeared photo at 1am, it’s clear — you’re the man. Tall, broad, scruffy, with that quiet kind of confidence that doesn’t have to announce itself. And then there’s Nico, your boyfriend, pressed against your side like a glittery little accent — wiry, flirtatious, boyish and loud, with cheekbones sharp enough to cut through bullshit.

You love him. Of course you do.

You love how he snorts when he laughs too hard. How he climbs you like a jungle gym when he’s tipsy. How he calls you “Daddy” in public just to make strangers stare. You love being the rock he curls against.

But you never expected this.

It was last Tuesday. You were making coffee when he asked it.

“Babe,” he said, bouncing onto the kitchen counter in just a tank top and briefs, “real question: what if I wanted to, like… top?”

You nearly choked on your Nespresso.

“I mean, like, what if we switched it up? Just once.”

You blinked. “You? Top me?”

Nico raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. Like, wouldn’t that be kinda fun? I could be all in control and you’d be, like, my little obedient bitch for once.”

He grinned. You laughed. Of course you laughed.

But then the grin faded.

“I’m serious.”

You hesitated. “I mean, I love you, but... Nico, you’re like, 5’7 and ninety pounds. You complain when the sheets are too scratchy. You cried watching Paddington 2.”

“Exactly. Subverting expectations,” he said proudly, like he was pitching a screenplay. “Come on, baby. For me?”

You smiled. Kissed his cheek. Said maybe. Changed the subject.

But it stuck in your head.

That night, alone in your office, you opened your laptop. You didn’t know what you were searching for. Advice? Roleplay tutorials? Therapy?

Instead, you found something else.

A black screen. No site header. Just a blinking prompt.

What is your wish?

Your fingers hovered over the keys. You weren’t even sure how you got here. But something… called to you.

You typed slowly.

I wish Nico could get what he wants. A reversal. But it still works for us.

You hit enter.

The screen went blank.

You stared at your reflection in the dark monitor, heart thudding.

Two nights later, Nico came home with a plastic bag and a shit-eating grin.

“You’re gonna love this,” he said.

You were halfway through folding laundry, your shirt off, sweat clinging to your chest.

He reached into the bag and pulled out a tiny brown bottle with an absurd label: “FLIP FUEL – Light the Fire Inside.”

“Poppers?” you asked.

“Magic poppers,” he said, shaking it dramatically. “They’re supposed to ‘enhance dynamics.’ That’s what the guy said.”

“What guy?”

“Booth at the flea market. Kinda looked like a K-pop singer meets a cult leader.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You bought poppers from a flea market?”

Nico rolled his eyes. “Live a little, babe. He said they help couples experiment — you know, like, shift things up.”

You hesitated. But then he gave you that look. Puppy-eyed, coy, daring.

“Just try it with me,” he whispered, curling a finger under your waistband. “For me?”

And somehow, you agreed.

The lights were low in the bedroom. Nico had lit candles, played a vaporwave remix of some Lana Del Rey song. He was in just his Calvin Klein jockstrap, bouncing with barely-contained energy.

You sat on the edge of the bed, shirtless, arms crossed.

“One sniff,” Nico said, unscrewing the cap.

The scent hit you like a slap. Sharp. Chemical. But almost… sweet? You inhaled deeper before pulling away.

A second later, your vision blurred. Heat bloomed in your chest.

You looked at Nico.

He wasn’t grinning anymore.

He was flexing.

And for a second — just a split-second — you thought he looked bigger. His usually slender frame seemed more solid, like there was extra weight in his shoulders. His arms looked puffier. There was a new tension in his jawline, a stubborn set to his mouth.

“Nico?” you asked, voice scratchy. “You alright?”

He didn’t answer. He was staring at himself in the mirror, rolling his shoulder like a bro at the gym.

“Fuck… feel tight,” he muttered.

That wasn’t his voice. It was lower. Rougher.

“What did you say?”

He turned toward you.

And smiled.

But it wasn’t Nico’s smile anymore.

“What’s wrong, babe?” he asked, dragging the word babe out like it tasted funny in his mouth. “Feelin’ a lil funny?”

You blinked. Your stomach fluttered — but not in a good way. You felt… off. Lighter. Softer.

Your legs tingled. You looked down.

Your thighs — your thick, squat-built thighs — looked leaner. Your chest didn’t protrude like it used to. There was something wrong with your hips — they were shifting. Widening.

“No, no, no—” you whispered.

He stepped toward you, the air around him suddenly rank — like unwashed gym shorts and sweat. He reached down and scratched at his crotch with a grunt.

“Damn. You smell that?” he said proudly.

You gagged.

He laughed. “Shit, guess the poppers really work.”

You stumbled backward on the bed, but your muscles felt sluggish. Your arms were… thinner. Your voice cracked.

“Nico, please, something’s—”

“Name’s Brad, bro,” he interrupted.

“Brad?”

“Yeah. Nico’s such a lil fairy name, ain’t it?” He smirked. “Brad fucks. Brad dominates. Brad makes twinks like you whimper.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but what came out was a pathetic, high-pitched whine.

Brad climbed over you. His body was huge now — swollen with sweaty, brutish muscle. His breath reeked of beer and arrogance. He pinned your wrists, like you used to pin his.

You squirmed, but your body was getting weaker, smaller. Your cock — you dared not look — felt… empty. Shrunken. But your ass—your ass was swelling, tingling, hypersensitive.

“Fuck, you’re gonna be a real bitch for me, ain’t you?” Brad growled, sniffing your neck. “Bet you’re already wet.”

“I—I’m not—” you gasped, but your voice was a whisper, nasal, almost… femme.

He ground against you, his erection throbbing, monstrous. “Don’t lie. Your lil hole’s practically beggin’.”

And you — the confident top, the man who always led — you moaned.

And Brad laughed.

You are… trying to remember.

You were the older one. The stable one. The top.

Now you’re pinned under 200 pounds of pure, dumb, reeking jock muscle.

His name used to be Nico.

Now he’s Brad. Or at least that’s what he keeps calling himself — loud and proud between the grunts and slaps of skin. His voice is thick now, dragged down by testosterone and beer. His breath smells like gym socks and meat.

You try to push him off you, but your arms feel like noodles. Your chest is smooth. Flat. You can see it now — your pecs are gone. Your shoulders are sloped. Your biceps… laughably thin. Worse, when you lift your head just enough to look down, you see the outline of your own body, reshaped into something lean and narrow. And soft.

Your thighs have narrowed to pale, hairless sticks. Your skin is flush and warm and smells vaguely like lotion and sweat — like a slutty boy who spends too much time prepping. Your hips—god—your hips are round. Soft and curvy like a porn twink’s.

But it’s your ass that horrifies you most. It throbs. It jiggles when he thrusts against it. It claps.

And worst of all — you feel everything.

"Moan for me, bitch," Brad growls, as he spits into his hand and starts rubbing his thick cock against your twitching hole. "You’re already leakin'. You were made for takin’ it."

You shake your head weakly. “N-No… I don’t—please I don’t wanna—”

He leans in, pressing his weight onto your chest. “Too late, faggot. Shouldn’t’ve been lookin’ at my pecs if you didn’t want this cock.”

You want to scream. But all that comes out is a choked, needy whimper.

Your ass burns as his cock forces its way in — impossibly thick, veiny, pulsing with cruel purpose. You cry out — not from pain, though there is pain — but from something worse.

It feels right.

Every thrust punches the air from your lungs, every slap of his hips into your ass sends a ripple of heat up your spine. And worse — each time he drives into you, your body changes more.

Your cock — once thick and proud — is now barely three inches and shrinking fast. It twitches against your belly like a useless decoration. And Brad laughs at it, smacking your face gently with his palm.

“Look at that lil’ dick. Fuckin’ pathetic,” he says. “Bet you touch yourself thinking about my cock now, huh?”

You have. You didn’t even realize it. One night ago, you stroked off in the shower to a vision of Brad flexing, sweaty, lifting weights shirtless, stuffing his crotch into those filthy gym shorts of his.

You feel your cheeks go hot. “No—I didn’t—I wouldn’t—”

He grabs the back of your neck. “Shut up. Bet you been fantasizin’ about gettin’ bred by a real fuckin’ man. A pussyhound like me.”

Pussyhound?

The word hits you like a slap. It’s all Brad talks about now. He watches straight porn on the couch with his hand down his sweatpants. He makes you sit there beside him while he moans about how tight her hole is, jerking himself with lazy, smelly dominance.

You remember, vaguely, who you were.

Confident. Grounded. Gay.

But now? You’re Brad’s personal faggot. His cumdump. His little toy.

And worst of all: he’s straight. Not pretend-straight. Not play-acting.

Brad’s obsessed with pussy. He spits on rainbows. He calls you his “sissy faggot.” And he treats you like nothing more than a tight hole.

And you… you crave it.

You don’t know when it started, but lately you’ve been crawling to him at night, whining for his dick, pawing at his thighs like a dog in heat.

Sometimes he ignores you. Sometimes he pushes your face into his crotch and makes you worship it through the mesh. Sometimes — like now — he pins you down and ruins you.

You feel it coming. You feel your mind fracturing.

You’re about to break.

He growls. “Gonna cum, faggot. Gonna fuckin’ blow in that twitchy lil’ hole.”

“No—wait—don’t—I can’t—” you beg, your voice high and nasal and cracking.

And then he grabs your hair, forces your mouth onto his cock mid-thrust. You gag as your lips stretch around the girth. It’s hot and salty and smells like piss and sweat.

He doesn’t warn you.

He just grabs your head and explodes.

Hot, rank cum floods your mouth and throat. You swallow instinctively, like your body was trained for it.

And as the first drops of his seed hit your tongue… you feel it.

Your ass inflates. Literally.

It swells outward, twin globes of jiggling flesh, comically perky, like some twink’s cartoon fantasy. You moan around his dick as it happens, your hole twitching in the air behind you like a bitch in heat.

At the same time, your cock shrivels — one inch, then half an inch, then a pink, useless nub.

And his cock grows. You feel it pulse in your mouth, stretching larger — eleven inches at least, thick and veiny, a tool built for breeding.

You feel your mind collapse.

You’re just his bottom bitch.

And Brad?

Brad’s a jock god. Straight. Ripped. Cruel. Dominant. Dumb as a rock and stinks like a locker room.

And you love him.

You exist for him.

“Good bitch,” he groans, smearing his cock across your face. “Now go clean my jockstrap. I’m goin’ out huntin’ for pussy tonight.”

You nod. You don’t even remember what it was like to say no.

You scurry off the bed, bubble butt swaying, aching for his next command.

The man you were is gone.

And all that’s left is Brad’s needy, moaning little cumdump.

Brad and his needy cumdump

[mcnasty0200]

Mikeal Griggs

[mcnasty0200]

Anthony: A Changed Man

Anthony and his boys had been hyped for this trip for months. For Anthony, it was personal — he was born here, raised until he was ten before moving to New York. Now he was back, but different. Grown. Polished. Clean.

When they arrived, his extended family scooped them up — including his favorite cousin, Nico — and took them to the house they’d be crashing at. Anthony dragged his sketchbooks along, full of designs for the clothing line he dreamed of launching someday. Fashion was his escape. His freedom.

The others were already getting ready to hit the pool, and after getting hassled enough, Anthony finally caved. He slipped on his trunks, tossed on some deodorant, and they headed out into the sticky Dominican heat.

The pool was packed. The air smelled like chlorine and sweat. They found a spot and Anthony quickly reapplied deodorant under his smooth, hairless pits, making sure he stayed fresh. Then he jumped in with the others, laughing, splashing, roughhousing — cannonballs, chicken fights, the whole deal.

Anthony climbed onto Nico’s shoulders, battling it out against another dude, when Nico lost balance and Anthony fell with a giant splash — drenching a big, mean-looking dude standing nearby.

Marcel.

Anthony’s heart dropped.

“Watch it, dumbass! Got me all wet!” Marcel barked, shoving Anthony lightly.

Nico tried to apologize, but Marcel cut him off. His eyes locked onto Anthony with a nasty smirk. “Long time no see, city boy. Figured you weren’t ever comin’ back."

Anthony shrugged. "Why you say that?"

Marcel laughed, running a hand through his sweaty hair and exposing his thick, wet pit hair. The smell hit Anthony hard — a rank blast of oniony, musky BO.

"Because you escaped, bro. Now you think you’re some big-shot, huh?"

Anthony cringed at the stink radiating from Marcel. "No need to be jealous. Besides... I wish I could escape that funk."

Everyone around cracked up.

Marcel’s face twisted. "Oh yeah? Come here then, pretty boy."

Before Anthony could move, Marcel grabbed his head and shoved it straight into his armpit.

Anthony gagged, inhaling a lungful of raw, wet Dominican musk. He thrashed, feeling Marcel’s coarse pit hair scrape his face. Nico and the others pulled Marcel off, but Anthony stumbled away, eyes dazed, chest heaving.

"You good, cuz?" Nico asked, concerned.

Anthony wiped his face. "Yeah... I’m good. Let's just go."

Marcel called after him: "You can run, city boy — but you can't run from your roots!"

Back at the house, something was... wrong.

Anthony climbed the stairs, stripping off his wet clothes, ready to scrub every inch of himself clean. But as he peeled his shirt off, that smell — that smell — hit him again.

Except this time... it was coming from him.

He lifted an arm, sniffed cautiously — and almost staggered back. He smelled sweaty, ripe, feral. His smooth pits itched with growing stubble. His body felt... hotter, heavier.

He reached for his towel — then froze.

A dumb, heavy thought plopped into his brain: "Man... do I really need to shower?"

Anthony blinked, confused. He always showered after swimming. He hated feeling dirty. But as he hesitated, another thought, rougher, meaner, punched through: "Deodorant is for pussies. I ain’t no pussy."

Grinning dopily, Anthony lifted his arm and huffed his own stink. His dick twitched.

"Fuck yeah," he muttered, letting the towel drop. "Real men smell like this."

Downstairs, Nico called: "Yo! Dinner!"

Anthony threw on the same nasty socks he wore earlier and a pair of loose shorts, no underwear. His nuts itched like crazy, but he didn't care. He scratched shamelessly as he stumbled into the kitchen.

Nico wrinkled his nose. "Dude... you smell like the pool."

Anthony shrugged, scratching his sweaty junk under the table. "Nah, bro. Smell like a man."

Nico looked disgusted, but before he could reply, Anthony's guts rumbled. Pressure built in his belly.

The stupid voice in his head laughed: "Let it rip, cuh! Gas 'em good!"

Without a second thought, Anthony lifted one leg and let out the nastiest, juiciest fart of his life. BRRRAAAAPPPPPP.

Everyone recoiled, shouting and gagging.

"Dude, what the fuck!" Nico choked.

Anthony just grinned, scratching his sweaty pit. "Relax. Real men fart when they want."

He scarfed down the rest of his meal, burping loudly, then stumbled back upstairs, half-hard in his shorts.

In his room, the changes got worse.

Anthony stripped again, staring at himself in the mirror. His once-smooth pits were sprouting thick dark hairs. His legs and crotch itched fiercely — thick bushes of hair exploding across his skin.

He panicked, reaching for a razor.

But the voice oozed into his brain: "What you gonna shave for, ese? Ladies dig that jungle. It's sexy, it’s raw."

Anthony froze, trembling. "Makes me smell good... ladies like it?" he mumbled.

The voice laughed. "Hell yeah, bro. Big booty Latinas gonna love you."

"But... I’m gay," Anthony whispered, weakly.

"Nah, city boy. That city shit messed you up. You like pussy. You love pussy."

Anthony’s hand, almost without his control, slid down to his crotch. He scratched his sweaty balls, then sniffed his fingers. The stench blasted his brain. His knees buckled.

Images of tits, ass, twerking Latinas filled his head, drowning out everything else. His dick hardened, throbbing.

"Fuck..." he moaned.

The voice egged him on. "Go ahead, cuh. Stroke that shit. Smell yourself. Be a man."

Anthony gave in, fisting his fat brown cock. His whole body was reeking now — armpits, balls, feet, all fermenting in musky heat. His pubes spilled out of his shorts in a thick trail.

The more he stroked, the dumber he got — forgetting New York, his boyfriend, his fashion dreams. Only tits, ass, pussy mattered now.

With a guttural groan, Anthony shot fat ropes of cum across his hairy stomach and chest, gasping like an animal. The voice chuckled darkly: "Atta boy. Don’t even clean up. Rub that shit in. Lick it up."

And Anthony did — slathering his cum into his pits, licking it off his fingers, moaning like a whore before passing out naked and stinking.

The next morning, the new Anthony was born.

He stumbled downstairs in nothing but boxers, scratching his hairy nuts, burping. He grabbed a milk jug and chugged straight from it.

Nico stared at him, horrified.

"Uh... we're going back to the pool. You... wanna come?"

Anthony scratched his ass lazily. "Sure, I'll chill with you fags."

Nico’s jaw dropped. "Dude, what the hell happened to you?"

Anthony grinned wide, showing his teeth. His cock stiffened in his boxers, leaking pre down his thigh. Without shame, he pawed at it — when the voice came back and said Nut your smarts out big bro. And He nutted in his boxers, right there in front of Nico, terrified.

"Love you, cuz," Anthony said dumbly, licking his fingers.

At the pool... things got worse.

Anthony strutted around in loose shorts, freeballing. His fat dickhead poked out shamelessly.

Marcel found him. "Yo, fam! You feelin’ good today?"

Anthony laughed, brain fogged and stupid. "Fuck yeah, vato. Like a new man."

"Got a surprise for you, bro," Marcel said, throwing an arm around him. "Come on."

They disappeared into the locker stalls.

The final blow.

Marcel leaned close. "You got that voice in your head now, right?"

Anthony nodded dumbly.

"Good. That voice? That's me, cuh. When I shoved your face in my pit, I changed you. You my bro now. Forever. all of your old memories are gone. Now you want to live with your cuz Marcel and get fucked by him."

Anthony blinked, some small flicker of old memories fighting back.

"I dunno, man," Anthony muttered. "I got a life in New York... fashion... boyfriend... and I already have a cousin Nico your not my cuz..."

Marcel sneered. "Get on your knees."

Anthony obeyed without thinking.

Marcel pulled down his trunks, exposing his hairy ass. He let out a thunderous, wet fart — right in Anthony’s face.

Anthony inhaled instinctively.

The effect was instant.

All the old Anthony — dreams, memories, everything — melted away. Replaced with filthy, stinking, horny Dominican bro energy.

Anthony's nuts swelled with sticky cum he couldn’t get rid of fast enough. His skin roughened. Hair sprouted from every inch of him. His asshole grew a thick dark pelt. asshole tightening and his growing bubble but. both perfect but never would get used other than Marcel when he got freaky. His cock throbbed, dripping.

He moaned as Marcel jerked him off roughly — helping him bust the last of his old self away.

Anthony came hard, shooting over his stomach, his hairy pits, his own chest, groaning loudly. He smeared his cum like lotion into his skin.

Marcel clapped him on the back. "Welcome home, bro."

Nico walked in wanting to see what was up, and Anthony just grabbed his face and farted on em!

Marcel gave him a chest bump and together, they went to find some pussy, rip ass, and NOT use condoms.

this is my first story! Hope you enjoyed it, and I am always open to pt 2's!

[mcnasty0200]

[mcnasty0200]

The Identity Transfer

(Original story posted February 6th 2023) This story has been mildly Updated!

Written for @the-natwolf

It’d been a long day for Nat as he arrived home feeling exhausted and wanting nothing more than to chill out for the last few hours of the evening. The first thing he did was whip up a nice hot meal for himself to satiate his growling stomach. Soon after he’d finished his meal, he was collapsing onto his bed with a drink in hand as he pulled out his phone and scrolled through some of his socials.

Naturally it wasn’t long before he found himself on Instagram. He took a sip from his drink as he flicked through the various posts. Some were of his friends, some being adverts and others being funny videos. But of course one of the most common themes while scrolling had to be the huge manly hunks showing off their half naked bodies. As a gay man, who could blame him. There would be bears, jocks, dads and meatheads alike just filling his feed to the point where more often than not Nat found himself unable to go on Instagram in public.

“Damn he looks good…” Nat mumbled to himself as he stopped on an image of a bear showing off his big hairy pecs and stomach. In honesty he’d always been a little jealous of men like that. Men that were huge and masculine. It made sense though. After all, Nat was 26 now and stood at around 5’7 with a pretty lean average build. He wasn’t really that hairy either. He might not have been as hunky as the men he drooled over but he didn’t hate his body. He was content with what he had… mostly. When there were guys out there his age and younger that were well over 6 foot and stacked with muscle, it was hard not to be at least a little envious of them.

He took another sip of his drink before his seemingly endless scrolling was stopped dead in its tracks. Up had popped a new post from one of his favourite dudes on Instagram. Ched Uzor!

He was a massive dude in every sense. Incredibly tall and insanely muscular with dashing good looks that made the smaller man swoon every time. Along with almost any gay man for that matter. He was gorgeous! So much so that Nat couldn’t help but pull up the man’s profile and start scrolling through all his posts again like he had many times before. He could never get enough of drinking that man in.

As it turned out Ched was an online coach that took on clients to help with training and getting into shape so naturally this meant he posted tons of pictures and videos dedicated to showing off his physique. Plentiful amounts of shirtless pics in the mirror to show off his god-like body for all to see. There were even a few where he stood in nothing but a towel or a tight pair of shorts that left little to the imagination. Those posts always drove Nat and many others crazy. Getting to see those chiselled abs and incredible pecs was always a treat. Not to mention those colossal arms of his that needed no introduction. Apparently he considered them his best feature and for good reason. Just one of Ched’s gigantic biceps looked to be the same size as one of Nat’s legs!

He continued to search through the bank of juicy content with a growing tent in his jeans. There were of course many workout videos to go with all the pics he put up which was just the icing on the cake. Getting to see Ched working those impressive muscles of his in an effort to pump them even bigger than they already were. He really couldn’t be more of a beast! Though his British English accent was something that frequently threw Nat off. He hadn’t expected it when he first heard Ched’s voice but he certainly didn’t hate it. He found it being quite the turn on actually!

Eventually he’d begun to lose himself a bit. Soon finding himself gulping the rest of his drink down so he could focus on rubbing his arousal over his jeans while gawking at this man’s amazing body. “Fuck… I wish I could be just like him.” Nat muttered to himself. He was just about ready to unzip and whip his dick out when suddenly a strange pop up filled his screen. It said:

- Our service has deemed you eligible for an identity transfer. From what we can gather, you wish to become like the user of this account “Ched Uzor”. Would you like us to proceed in making that possible for you? -

Beneath the message was a green accept button and a red deny button. Naturally Nat’s first instinct was to deny with strange pop ups like this but as his finger hovered over the red option, he hesitated. He had no idea why but for some reason, something deep down was telling him to accept. The logical part of his mind was telling him it was most likely a scam or a virus or some kind but at the same time something else was tugging at him. Telling him that it was real and to just trust it… so he pressed accept. After which there was a slight nervousness building in his chest as a new pop up emerged that simply read:

- Confirmation Received. Preparing Physical Transfer… Gathering Information… -

Seeing this Nat began to panic slightly. What was he thinking accepting this random link!? It was probably taking all the personal info off his phone right now! Next thing he knows he’s gonna have an emptied out bank account and most of his emails compromised! Though just as the fear began to set in, the screen changed once again.

- Preparation Complete! Beginning Physical Transfer… 0% -

Physical transfer? What the hell did that mean? Well Nat was soon about to find out. He tapped away at his phone a little, trying to back out from whatever this was but nothing was working. Even pressing the home button or holding down the power button did nothing as the percentage metre slowly began to tick up.

His eyes widened in disbelief when he noticed the pale skin on his hands beginning to darken. At first he thought he was seeing things but he couldn’t deny it when they started expanding too! Growing larger and meatier while also gaining a more weathered look you’d see on guys who did plenty of physical labour or spent lots of time in the gym. Before long his enlarged hands had turned a deep ebony in colour and that darker hue was quickly starting to spread across his light skin. He tossed his phone onto the couch in panic as he could do nothing but watch this bizarre transformation progress…

- Physical Transfer… 5% -

Next up were his forearms. His skin didn’t waste any time in converting from his usual pale white to a much darker tone. His biceps and shoulders soon followed the same example until both of Nat’s arms looked as though they belonged to a black man! He barely had time to process this though as moments after he felt a warm tingle flow up and down his arms for a second until suddenly they began expanding with muscle!

It began once again with his forearms pumping up rather aggressively with his biceps and triceps quickly following suit as they grew to seemingly no end. It wasn’t long before he’d not only filled out the sleeves of his shirt but the fabric was beginning to dig into his biceps until a faint ripping sound could be heard. That sound only got louder as his shoulders started to bulge, growing into huge boulders of muscle.

He looked… ridiculous! His arms were huge, bulky and a completely different colour to the rest of his small white body. Thankfully it wouldn’t stop there though. As soon as his arms finally reached their full enormous size, the transformation began to spread further.

- Physical Transfer… 25% -

Saying Nat was bewildered would be an understatement. He took a second to marvel at his arms by moving and flexing them a little as he stood up from the couch. The sleeves on his t-shirt were torn in multiple places and only continued to tear as he checked out his new guns. They were gigantic to say the least. He’d go as far as to say his arms were now bigger than a lot of the jock dudes he’d seen at the local gym. Though, as incredible as they were, they probably looked rather silly and out of place on his much smaller pale body.

Just then however, as if on cue, there was another warm tingle that darted around his torso. Of course Nat had been far too focused on the new size of his arms to notice that the skin beneath his shirt had continued changing. It started with small splotches of colour appearing across his chest, stomach, back and traps. At first making his skin appear tanned in those spots but as the patches spread and connected to one another, the tone deepened even further until it matched the same rich ebony skin colour his arms now proudly adorned.

- Physical transfer… 40% -

After what had just happened down with his now hulking arms, Nat already had a good idea of what to expect next when the warm tingle across his torso subsided. He stared down at himself, breath hitching slightly as he waited. And then he felt it. A strange pulsing sensation flooding through his upper body and then…

“UUROOUGGHH!…” Nat bellowed as his chest suddenly heaved forwards, his once unimpressive pecs eagerly starting to take shape. What was previously a relatively flat chest ballooned out into a juicy pair of meaty muscle tits that strained desperately against the front of his shirt. At the same time he found his torso growing thicker and wider in unison with his pecs. His back broadened more by the second until a massive rip tore across the spine of his shirt as he hulked out of it. It simply wasn’t able to contain so much man.

Nat’s eyes began to flicker and roll with all the intense feelings rushing through him right now. The changes were so overwhelming but at the same time… he didn’t want it to stop. Even smiling a little as he felt his traps start to bulge and his neck thicken slightly to compensate. But it didn’t end there. Even as all this new muscle was growing, his height had been increasing a little as well. His torso had grown significantly longer as his former 5’7 statue extended up to 5’11. It couldn’t be more obvious as his shirt rode up enough to give the world a view of his new thick dark abs.

That said he still looked quite ridiculous. He had the arms and torso of a bulky black man with the head and lower body of an average white dude. Not for much longer though.

- Physical Transfer… 65% -

The changes seemed slowed down towards his neck for time being but they didn’t stop their march downwards to the lower half of his body. Naturally the first things to be swallowed by the darkening skin were his groin and his backside. Then as the tingling began to swarm those two regions, it was near impossible for Nat to hide the huge grin forming on his face. By this point he was fully embracing the insane transformation and only wanted more! He didn’t know how it was possible but it just felt so damn good! All he could think about now was the rest of his body getting huge and how amazing it was going to feel!

The back of his jeans started to grow tighter by the second as his ass expanded aggressively, plumping itself up with more and more muscle. Before long his jeans were forced to really stretch themselves over two thick globes that put his former ass to shame. But it didn’t stop at the heavy black jock butt. If anything Nat’s attention was much more focused on his crotch as he rubbed a large hand over it. He could already feel the next change setting in fast.

His hard and already black cock started to bulge obscenely in his pants as it pumped itself bigger and fatter. Gaining not only length as it bucked and pulsed but some delicious girth as well that would stretch any hole to its limit. He almost couldn’t believe he didn’t cum on the spot as the mushroom tip grew thicker and rounder inside the confines of his jeans. He’d managed to stifle his moans for the most part up until that point but he couldn’t help letting out a long groan when his balls suddenly bloated to a huge and heavy size without warning. A glob of precum stained the inside of his pants as his nuts swelled with jock seed.

- Physical Transfer… 75% -

As was expected by this point, the ebony colour spread down across Nat’s legs causing his thighs and calves to darken multiple shades in tone. The change crept lower before finishing with his feet as they endured the same fate. He pulled up one of his pants legs slightly to confirm this was the case and he couldn’t help but get excited upon seeing the dark skin, knowing what was to come. His entire body from the neck down was black!

Moments later that now familiar pulsing sensation travelled up and down his legs. What followed was the sound of his jeans ripping at seams as his legs started to pack on years worth of hard earned muscle in a matter of minutes. His thighs thickened to watermelon crushing levels of size and power while his calves slowly but surely began to grow to the size of sturdy footballs. During which all Nat could hear was the sound of his legs tearing his jeans apart. But once again it didn’t stop there. Along with all the muscle, his legs began stretching longer as well. It wasn’t long before his already increased height of 5’11 went well past 6 foot and all the way up to 6’4! By that point his muscle had finished expanding leaving him with a set of huge meaty legs and jeans that were clinging on for dear life. They were in complete tatters like his shirt. The button on the front had popped off and his ankles were exposed thanks to the jeans now riding up his legs!

He only got a few seconds to rest however as the next little transformation wasn’t waiting right around the corner. The only warning he got was a pleasant buzzing sensation flowing through his feet before suddenly they began exploding with size. They grew at such a rapid rate that within moments they completely burst out of his shoes. With a grin Nat gave his new black size 14 feet a wriggle, loving the feel of how big they were.

- Physical Transfer… 90% -

Now there was only one part left to go and Nat was ready to embrace it. He closed his eyes with a smile as the darkening skin resumed its spread up over his neck and towards his head. It took a little longer than the rest of the body but before long there wasn’t a trace left of Nat’s once pale skin left. Every inch of him was now a rich dark tone. But with the skin done, it was time for the rest of his features to catch up!

A warm wave of tingly pleasure washed over his head as the final changes began. It started with the lump in his throat shifting slightly and readjusting to give him a slightly deeper and more intimidating voice but also one that could be sensual and charming. The main event however was the face itself. Facial features began moving, growing, shrinking, sharpening and softening in all the right places until there was almost no resemblance to the original Nat left. His jaw was stronger, his lips were fuller and his nose was broader. The only thing left was his hair but even that quickly began to recede from the shaggy mop it had once been into something much shorter. Forming into tight neat curls that were distinctly black. And to top it all off a short bristly beard sprouted across his face to match, making his visage all that much more handsome.

- Physical Transfer… 100%… Complete! Physical Identity of “Ched Uzor” assumed! -

Bringing his hands up to his face, Nat couldn’t believe what he was feeling. Everything about it felt different to the spacing between his eyes to the size of his features to the feeling of his hair. It was insane but at the same time extremely erotic for some reason. He had to see what he looked like.

He was in luck as he’d recently put up a new mirror in his bedroom of which he soon found himself stumbling towards, not used to his new weight and centre of gravity. Though despite having just gone through the whole transformation, nothing could’ve prepared him for what he saw. Staring back at him was a black muscular hunk! But not just any hunk… it was Ched Uzor! *He* was Ched Uzor! The same man he’d been drooling over online for years!

Of course Nat was far too distracted to notice but across the room on his bed, the message on his phone changed as it began to initiate the next phase…

- Preparing Mental Transfer… Gathering Information… -

Being blissfully unaware of this second transfer, Nat immediately began exploring himself with glee. He never imagined he’d get to experience what it felt like to have a body like this. Not only powerful and muscular but extremely tall as well. Before he'd always felt like the short dude in a crowd but now that he was 6’4 things are gonna be very different. Even now he couldn’t help but notice how much smaller everything seemed. How the floor looked so much further away and how things like his bed, desk and closet seemed so tiny now. It was crazy to wrap his head around but he could certainly get used to it.

- Preparation Complete! Beginning Mental Transfer… 0% -

Nat couldn’t help but love how his former clothes were now in tatters as they struggled to contain his new godly form. Despite that, he had to get a proper look. And so he gripped his torn t-shirt and with one swift motion, ripped it off his torso with ease. Tossing the fabric to one side, Nat took the opportunity to marvel at his incredible upper body. Starting by giving his juicy new pecs a generous squeeze before pinching at his dark nipples. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how many guys he’d get to fuck with a body like this. He was gonna have dudes practically falling to their knees before him.

“Mmm I wonder if I can bounce my pecs like this…” Nat mumbled to himself, loving the new English accent to his voice. He struggled at first, flexing the muscle on his chest awkwardly, but then something just hit him. Suddenly he started popping his pecs like a pro. No wonder because he’s been able to bounce them like that for years now!

- Mental Transfer… 10% -

Once he’d had his fun with his pecs, Nat made sure to give his abs a bit of attention as well, running his hands across the hard ridges with a bite of his lip before moving onto his arms. Sure he’d given them a good flex earlier but now he had the rest of the body to back them up. To say they were unreal wouldn’t do them enough justice. They were so massive and juicy that merely moving his huge arms gave him a power rush, never mind flexing them for the mirror. Getting to feel the pure strength behind all that raw muscle was intoxicating.

“Ughhh yeah!… I’m so huge!” He moaned as his enlarged cock strained against his underwear. He was getting drunk on the sensation of how huge his arms were. No wonder he considered them his best feature. He’d always had big arms so when he started training them properly they just exploded with size! Now he and everyone he met couldn’t seem to get enough of them.

- Mental Transfer… 25% -

He just had to see his body in its full glory. Not wasting any more time Chat gripped his jeans and just like with his shirt he ripped them off before tossing the remains to the side. Now all he had covering himself was an extremely tight pair of underwear that had the tip of his excited cock peeking out one of the leg holes. Overall he was pretty surprised that his underwear seemed intact. Or so he thought anyway.

After giving a quick twirl in the mirror, he was fast to notice a huge rip down the back that gave a perfect window view of his large muscle ass. Seeing this Chat couldn’t help but laugh before giving his big butt a hefty slap, enjoying the way it recoiled slightly. “Yeahhh boy! That’s what I’m talkin about!” He smirked as he took pride in the powerful glutes he’d crafted over the years, just as impressive as the rest of his body.

But of course he couldn’t ignore the main course for long. That new cock of his was begging for attention and Chat was willing enough to oblige. He turned back around to face the mirror once more before ripping off his underwear and allowing his fat new dick to spring free at last. Finally he was able to get a good look at his body in its entirety. “Thank fuck I decided to drop college so I could work on my body.” He stated proudly while turning to look at himself from every possible angle

- Mental Transfer… 50% -

Chat was completely oblivious to what was happening to his mind. With every second that passed his personal reality was being warped around him. He was starting to believe that this was all normal while his former identity was slowly being pushed out of his head to be replaced by a new one. His intelligence dropped a fair margin in the process from the IQ of an intelligent young man to the level of a blissful jock. Not dumb per say but not as bright as he once was either.

Despite everything he still found himself insanely turned on by his reflection even if the reasoning for it was becoming blurrier and blurrier with every passing moment. He gripped his thick black member with a dumb grin, loving how it filled his large hand before pumping it slowly. For some reason it felt way more sensitive than usual. Generally his cock was quite active but this was something different. It almost felt like it was begging him to cum. But he had to savour it just a tad bit longer. It felt far too amazing to rush.

He managed to keep a smooth rhythm with his stroking as he continued to explore his buff body for some obscure reason. As he did, a lot of his former smarts were replaced with a bunch of gym, workout and healthy eating knowledge. All of which was necessary to maintain a huge physique like his. He was definitely gonna need it. After all how else was he gonna be an online coach if he didn’t know all the tips, tricks and secrets to getting swole as fuck!

- Mental Transfer… 80% -

As his free hand wandered around the muscular crevices of his body, it eventually found its way to his back side. At first he was simply grabbing and kneading his cheeks which he didn’t think too much of at first. Just enjoying the feeling until he tried to slip a finger towards his hole. The moment said finger grazed that tight puckered hole however, his eyes snapped open. “The fuck am I doing!?” He questioned out loud as he drew his hand away from his ass. He wasn’t sure why the hell he’d been doing that. After all he’d never been into ass stuff before. Not to mention his asshole is clamped shut anyway. No way anything was getting up there anytime soon. Instead he just tried to shake off the weird experience and focus on jerking off instead.

“Fuuuuck bro! Why am I so horny today!?” Chet moaned as his cock began spluttering pre-cum relentlessly, getting his hand wet and sticky. “I need a hookup or something. Haven’t been with a girl in weeks…” he droned off mindlessly, not even realising the problem with what he’d just said. Yet despite everything it was still his thick muscular body that was the main attraction of his sexual desire right now.

- Mental Transfer… 90% -

Chet began stroking faster as he bounced his pecs again in the mirror, his own body seeming so hypnotising for some reason. It baffled him as he’d never felt this way about himself before but he didn’t bother questioning it. How could he when he could already feel his fat bull balls starting to churn. They were getting ready to shoot while his cock grew more and more sensitive by the second. All of his senses were being overloaded as a thick haze settled over his mind. And soon enough that pleasure began to peak…

Chet couldn’t stop himself from flexing almost every muscle in his body involuntarily as his balls squeezed, sending a fat load up towards his cock until… “FUUUUUUuuuuuccckkkkk…” Chet moaned heartily as his massive dick shot rope after rope of hot thick jock nut all over the mirror like an erupting volcano. Shooting more cum than he ever had in his life while giving the reflective glass a sticky coating of delicious man milk.

- Mental Transfer… 98%… Error Error… -

The pop up screen on his phone began to flash with a warning as the meter seemed to get stuck on 98%.. The Error message continued to flash for a few seconds before the screen changed again, jumping directly to a new screen without having shown the 100% at all.

- Congratulations! You have assumed the Mental and Physical identity of “Ched Uzor”! It would seem our work here is complete! Enjoy the rest of your day. -

The strange pop up claimed proudly before disappearing without a trace. The phone returned to Ched’s Instagram, only now it seemed to be logged in as the user of the account.

Back over at the mirror Ched grabbed his head in confusion. That was one of the biggest nuts of his life so he couldn’t figure out for the life of him why he’d done it to his own reflection instead of to a hot babe like usual. But even more importantly where the hell was he? This definitely wasn’t his house and those ripped clothes on the floor certainly didn’t belong to him. He closed his eyes and racked his brain for a moment, trying to figure everything out until it finally hit him. He was on vacation to America right now and he’d hired this dude to look after his place back in the UK. The dude’s name was Nat if he remembered correctly. He took a breather as things finally started to fall into place.

And so, with his cock turning flaccid once again, Ched grabbed some tissues and started to clean up the huge mess he’d made. After all, the people he was renting this place from wouldn’t be happy if he left their mirror with a huge cumstain on it. Once that was done he’d better find himself some clothes to put on so he can enjoy the rest of his evening and take plenty of pics for his Instagram. He knew how thirsty some of his followers were and they were always eager to get another glimpse at his incredible body. Not that he could blame them.

———

- 4 Months Later -

Ched had long since returned home to the UK. That Nat guy had done a good job looking after his house while he was gone, the place looked spotless! Though he could swear there was something eerily familiar about Nat that he just couldn’t place. He couldn’t really put it into words. It was almost like nagging in the back of your mind when you’ve forgotten something but can’t remember what. Regardless he thanked the smaller man before giving him the second half of his payment and sending him on his way.

Since then things had been normal for the most part. Making inspirational posts on Instagram about exercising and getting into shape as well as just having an excuse to show off a bit. Naturally he spent plenty of time in the gym as always and was hard at work coaching his online clients as a personal trainer. But there were a couple weird things he’d noticed recently…

For example he still hadn’t gotten over this weird fascination with his own body he’d developed lately. Every time he looked at his reflection he found his cock chubbing up for some reason and he had no idea why. Plus the amount of times he would end up groping his own muscles while jerking off. He’d never done that before but now he couldn’t help it. But don’t get him wrong though, Ched isn’t gay. He’s been hooking up with plenty of women as of late and had no problem getting it up when they pull their tits out for him. If anything he’d say he’s been fucking more pussy recently than usual. Getting into bed with hot chicks left and right to fuck their bimbo brains out… but that could be partially due to him compensating for another new desire.

You see along with his self infatuation, over these past few months Ched had also caught himself glancing at other men. Not just in an admiring kind of way either. Like he was properly eyeing them up. His gaze was constantly being drawn to their asses and bulges. It was madness! He’d never been into dudes before so why were these feelings suddenly surfacing now!?

Recently there’d been this new guy at the gym that’d he’d been speaking to. Brandon was his name. Massive dude, about the same size as Ched himself. And just like with many other guys, Ched hadn’t been able to stop himself from checking out Brandon’s huge body. Only difference being that he could swear he caught Brandon checking him out as well…

Surely he couldn’t be gay because he did genuinely love women as well. So maybe he was Bi? If that was the case, how he managed to go all these years and not realise until now was beyond him. Well perhaps if this Brandon dude really was interested he could give it a go and ask him out or hook up maybe?… see what happens?

Little did Ched know that this was actually due to the error during his Mental Transfer. It seemed a tiny percentage of Nat remained inside him and vice versa for the new Nat as well. It was that tiny part of himself that was obsessed with his body and the part that still had an interest in men. But of course he’d never know that because as far he knows, Nat is just the guy that looked after his house for a couple weeks. He of course was the hunky Instagram model and online coach Ched Uzor! Only now he was a little gayer than before. And you know what? He was okay with that.

[mcnasty0200]

Ghost Hunk Part 2

Ghost Hunk Part 2

Written by: Oddballs

Source:

https://www.gaydemon.com/stories/Ghost_Hunk_Part_2_24504.html

STORY IS NOT MINE, REPOSTED FOR RECORD KEEPING PURPOSES

Bloke walks down the lit up avenue, wearing a crop-top to show off the man-scaped abs and wearing a leather jacket.

“Oh yeah.” He grins, his dick practically drooling with anticipation inside his garment, “Time to get started.”

He makes his way to a cute guy talking with his friends on the corner. He stops midway, and goes to one with short brown hair, a red shirt, and regular jeans, “Hey, pal.” Bloke says with a smirk. “Think I remember you.”

“Uhh… What?” The guy gives Bloke a hesitant look.

“OH YEAH! Remember now.” He grins and points to him, “I still owe you a blow job. Meant to do it at the time, but I lost control before I got started.”

“Uuuhhmm, okaayy, um,” Obviously a bit inhibited, the guy chuckles awkwardly, “I never met you before in my life, and I’m just trying to hang out here…”

“Right, right, sorry, different face and all that.” Bloke nods. He puts his arm around the shy boy’s shoulders and leans in, “You gentlemen mind if I borrow this cute piece of ass real quick?”

“Pssshh, sure.” One friend says.

“Heh, just like that? You’re a bit forward, don’t you think?”

“Oh” Bloke grins as his package and bulge shoves a baseball-sized lump a few times, “You got no idea how forward I am.”

“W-What??” The guy looks at Bloke, then at his friends, and back again, “G-Guys! Wha-”

“We’ll be round the corner. Come on, Felix.” Bloke drags him away and to the alley.

“Wa-Wait, stop! How do you know my name??” Felix nearly trips as Bloke takes him to the spot.

“Have fun!”

“He’ll scream bloody murder if he doesn’t!” Bloke calls back with a wave of his arm.

He takes Felix to the alley and puts the stammering cutie against the way, “O-Ok, look, I don’t know who…” Felix pauses and irks as Bloke comes in and licks his neck.

“Mmmm. Fuckin delish.” Bloke smiles. His hands then go to Felix’s pants.

“L-Look! I don’t-, I’m really don’t wanna-”

“Meatbags don’t go to Goldenrod for the scenery, ya tease-fuck.” Bloke almost sends those pants flying down, making Felix blush from his exposed tighty and stretchy Spider-Man underwear, “Now. I owe you a service, and you are too fucking cute to pass over.”

About a month ago, Polter was possessing a pot-bellied bear daddy, and he lost a bet he made to Felix here to suck him off. Unfortunately, Polter had ‘overstayed his welcome’ without realizing it, and he was unable to control the man he was possessing, and Polter had to fly out of the guy’s mouth after several minutes of the mental wrestling. But did Polter get a kick when that church pastor start to freak out when he saw himself wearing a black leather thong in front of a bunch of horny men before he went trampling out.

“Wait, please, don’t!” Felix whines as Polter took those underpants and pulled them off. Felix, almost close to tears, wince as Bloke paused when he sees Felix’s one inch soft penis.

“Hah, you’re a bit of a thumb drive, huh?” Bloke grins as he reaches and massages Felix’s small dick.

“Please, just, don’t tell-”

“Tell’em what?” Bloke asks, “That I’m about to do THIS?” He drops to his knees and shoves his lips onto Felix’s button cock.

“A-Ahh!” Felix gasps and moans out as Bloke smushes his wet lips on his little penis, staggering and groaning as Bloke snorts and makes out with his member. “O-Ooohhh myyyy gooosh…”

“That’s right.” Bloke grins as he stops and sees the little dicklette start to throb and pulse into size. “A dick’s a dick, and you are just as fucking adorable as your member here. Awweeehhhh” Bloke sticks his tongue out and tickles Felix’s waking cock. He rubs and fondles those balls as well, warming them up in both hands as he goes to town on him.

While those hands rolls and fluff those soft orbs in his hands, the tip of his tongue draws circles around Felix’s stub of a member. His tongue dips into the foreskin and makes the cute nerd moan out as Bloke uses his lips to push over the layer of flesh over the small rod and salivates as he engulfs that portion with his mouth and head bobbing in short dives while ducking in to lick the sides of that tender sac as well, ticking and making Felix laugh adorably from having his most sensitive regions slurped.

“Mmnnyyooyeaaahhh… Huh?” Bloke’s eyes blink into a brown color. Blake gaps as he sees his own hand holding a pair of balls, “The fuck?!” The next thing he knows is the soaked dick before him – some random small penis! “What the ffffFF” Blake’s eyes clench before his face shoves itself forward. His nose inhales sharply while his hands gasp at Felix’s buttocks before Bloke’s eyes reopen to the electric blue color. “MMMMmmhhhh…”

“O-Oh my gosh, a-ahh” Felix presses his back against the wall and huffs as his rod reaches his full length at 3 inches. He looks down and sees a rod-like bulge in Bloke’s pants as well. “Please don’t stop, ahhh”

“Waddn’t planning on it.” Bloke says as he wraps his lips around the small member and starts to slurp on it. His tongue even swerves to scoop up Felix’s sac and rushes and races around under the scrotum.

“Oh my gosh, yes, oh God that feels good! Oh, ohhhh.” Felix closes his eyes and moans in heat as puts his hands into Bloke’s hair. He doesn’t know where he met this particular guy, or why he thinks he owes him a blowjob, but the fact this guy digs his small wiener is more than enough to make him stop resisting.

“Mmmhh, you ARE fucking delish.” Bloke snorts like a pig while sucking on the small endowment. He practically milks the cocklette of each spurt of precum as his tongue dances on every spot around it.

“You into anything else?” Bloke asks after he pops that small penis out his mouth and strokes it with only a couple of fingers.

“Oh uh…” Felix blushes as Bloke looks up with those bright bluish eyes. “K-Kinda, but this is good enough…”

“Good enough ain’t good enough.” Bloke then puts his face into Felix’s ‘business’ and starts kissing and laying thick smooches under the small cock around the nuts, “Tell’lme what ya like.”

“O-Ohh, oh my gosh, mmff” Felix whines as he can barely talk, “I-I uh… I-I like it when someone plays with my butt…”

“Butt stuff?”

“N-Not like sex, but… I-It gets me so hot when someone just pays attention to it and just plays with it and…” Felix can hardly speak between the very lustful sensations and the embarrassment.

“Then what the fuck are you waiting for???” Bloke scoffs and holds his hands up, “Turn your ass around and let me play with it already!”

“Y-Yes, uh, sir.” Felix then shuffles around and leans against the wall. He instinctively arches his back and presents his ample bottom to- “U-Uhh!” Felix’s jaw drops as that face already shoves right into his wobbling buttcheeks.

“Grrmmhhhrrmmnnrrmm” Bloke growls playfully as he motorboats into Felix’s booty. Both mounds wobble gracefully with every move Bloke does with is head.

“Hohhh my ghaaahhd” Felix feels a rush of heat and lust as he starts to masturbate is little cock.

“Hrmhrmhrmhrrmmmmmmgghhhhhh??!” Blake’s eyes return to their original brown color as he tires to focus. Now all he can feel is an immense warmth from his nose-down. He can’t breathe fresh air, and he smells someone else’s flesh pressed on his face, like all those times he ate out his girlfriend(s).

“MmmHH!” Blake irks and grunts, attempting to pull himself away from the rear end, but it’s like his face is glued to those cheeks. “MM! MM! MM!” All he can do is yank his head a few times, really wobbling Felix’s tushie before his hands grab onto Felix’s hips harshly.

“A-Ahhh,” Felix moans, unaware of Blake’s trying to break away, “Oh my gosh your face feels so good…”

The ghost presses inside Blake’s skull and his eyes close again and the cyan color returns, “Weird…” Bloke mumbles before shrugging and returning to his feast.

“Heh heh heh” Bloke chuckles as he cups both buns with his hands. He bounces and bobs both buns playfully before giving a kiss on either cheek and mushing both cheeks together and framing them with his fingers to force the jello-like hams to form a heart “Ooh, I think your butt is in love with me!”

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god” Felix whines as he whacks off. He jerks off his modest member as his fetish gets hammered hard. The way this guy is bouncing and slapping his butt – not spanking, slapping. His hands pat and bongo both of those mobile buns. He bats and smushes his face into his ass and licks his crack up and down. He’s always wanted a stud like Bloke to just play with his ass like this, and it’s driving him all kinds of crazy! How in the hell did he know how Felix loves his rump getting toyed with??

“Ohhhhhh my gaaahhhhd I’m gonna cum!” Felix pants and moans, “I’m gonna cum.”

“Gotcha. Thanks for the warning.”

“Wha?? I- Whoa!” Before Felix knew it, Bloke forced himself in from the side and starts to nurse and suckle is little dick and slurp loud. “Oh my god, oh god!” Felix moans out as he leans on the side to allow Bloke to get better access.

His hands hold onto Bloke for dear life as Bloke just about milks him for all he’s worth. The way the tongue rolls and almost hugs that petite penis sends Felix over the edge “A-Ahhh! Ohhh! HOHH! Ahhhh!”

Bloke’s cheeks puff as Felix cums hard in his mouth. His hands grasp onto Felix’s jiggly butt just as his eyes go brown again. “MMHllmm! Hmmllmm??!” His mouth is now flooded with something salty and sweet. Repulsed, Blake starts to gag. His lips dribble with cum and spit as he attempts to pull back, but his body just tenses in resistance.

“H-Hey?” Felix looks down, noticing Blake’s odd motions, “Are you ok?”

“MrrrRRRMM!” The phantom forces himself into consciousness again and takes over to gulp down Felix’s load until his lips leave that smooth pelvis and licking the underside of the small rod clean.

“That was fucking great. You weRErrrRRRrrr fucktastic.” Bloke smiles and stutters as he tries to suppress the pressure in his head as he pulls up Felix’s undies, “Let me get that for ya.” Felix blushes and chuckles as Bloke kisses his Spider-Man package a few times before pulling up Felix’s jeans and standing back up.

“Uh, what about you? You’re still hard. Don’t you-” Felix is interrupted by a very hot kiss. He moans and rubs Bloke’s sides as he loses himself in the thorough lip lock.

Blake forces back in, blinking awake as NOW he’s making out with a MAN! “MM… MM-mm! Mm-MM!” Blake’s insides sink as he feels the chill of the ghost race in his limbs. He squeals and his arms seize around Felix as the poltergeist’s energy spazzes Blake’s legs and pelvis.

“Mmllmm-mmrrmmm” Felix irked awkwardly as Blake starts to hump his front like an electric crazy person, “Mghaah, hheggh, rmmll,”

“Mmggh! Mmggh!” Blake grunts and moans into Felix’s mouth as Blake’s pants rub everywhere on his cock. That, and the wild humping makes him lose track of holding his focus as his member gets pleasured into overdrive. His brows furrow and he clenches his eyes shut as a climax makes its way through.

“MMGHH! MMHH! MMMHHHG” Blake shoves his hips hard on Felix’s lap as a dark blotch forms from the jock jizzing his pants. The forceful and intense orgasm rolls in the afterglow and allows the ghost to loom back over his brain. His brown eyes go back to cyan as Bloke regains his posture.

“Sorry bout that.” He grins at the flustered cutie boy, “Sometimes I just get wild and nuts when I’m with a guy.”

“Heh, ahahehah, yeah, cool, I get it.” Felix nods, still feeling rather awkward

“So.” Bloke cracks his neck a little before patting at Felix’s arms, “Would love stay and get freaky with you, but your pals are waiting for ya. ‘Sides, I got stuff and other guys to do.”

“Ok. But… Any chance we can do this again?? Like, some other time or something?”

“Tell ya what. I come around here bout once a week or two.” Bloke grins as he reaches both hands down and gives a few hard grabs at Felix’s rump, making him grunt and moan a bit with each hard and big pinch between Bloke’s thumbs and four-fingers “If I see ya round here, I’ll drop everything I’m doing and play with your butt some more. It’s fun as fuck!”

“Heh, o-ok…” Felix gets hot in the face as Bloke parts ways.

“Now get outta here and tell your friends you just got your dicked sucked like a fuckin pro.” He lets Felix loose and slaps his rear again.

“O-Ok! See you later!”

“Heh heh, next time, bubble buhhh…” Bloke irks and bobs his head as his face takes on a very awkward and bizarre expression, staggering in his stance as he feels ‘it’ again. “Bubble buuuuuuhhhhtt” Bloke says oddly as his throat lets out a slightly cartoonish tone. He loses focus and flops his face about, coughing some glowing mist before he continues on.

“Ok… Stay cool, Polter. I-I uh mean Bloke.” Bloke mumbles to himself as he strides away, “Stay hold of him, you got this, come on…” Bloke struts down the avenue, “He’s a fuckin jock. They’re not smart. He’s a dumbass. He’s not gonna…”

Bloke frowns as his body undulates wildly. His pelvis thrusts and made his torso curve before his chest puffs out and his arms waggle stiffly in one fluid wave of motion. His mouth chortles like his just at a very weird vegetable as his jaws click and irk and his body jerks and wobbles several times more.

“Uh-oh…” The possessed male utters, right before his eyes roll up as his torso and arms jiggle from a forceful internal reflux.

 Blake’s eyes then return to normal color as he looks around, “What the fuck- Where am I?? What-” His torso lurches before his eyes shift back to cyan.  

“Oh no ya don’t,” Says Polter’s cocky voice, as he grasps onto a telephone pole, “I’m not gonna… UuuRRrbbbLLL” His eyes roll up again as his head shakes like mad, making him babble with his lips bouncing about.  

“Boobb boo-booblaAAAmmuuubbuuawwll! GUUUb babab! BllbbboollUUUbbbRRUH!” Blake yelps out as he fights back into consciousness. He takes a look around and sees the brightly lit gay clubs and raunchy displays around him, “Fuck, you are NOT gonna turn me into some fa… Fah…”

 Then his brain feels light-headed again. He knows what’s coming next. He can’t control his body.  

His eyes cross as he dons a very toothy shit-eating grin. Out of his control, he turns around and starts grinding the pole into his tighty-packed denim ass.

 A few guys walk by, snickering as Black starts playing with his nipples like a horny goofy cartoon. “Whoa, what’s with him?” Asks one of the strangers.  

“Probably some stripper on a huge high.”  

“Should we get him to a hotel or hospital or something?”  

“Naw, he’s just goofing off.” They laugh it off just before Blake snaps out of it, having been fully conscious up to the point where he stops grinding his ass into the pole and looking like an idiot.

 “Fffffshit, fuck YYOOU! I am NOT…” Blake clenches his eyes shut and tries to force the ghost out of his body as hard as he can. “GGHHHHH! I’m not taking this…” Blake pants a few times, like he’s trying to take a huge dump. “HHHHHGGGGGG” He clenches and tenses his entire body as he gags forcefully in an attempt to expel the entity.  

‘Whoa whoa whoa!’ Polter irks as he feels the human’s willpower start to attack him, ‘I don’t think ya really know what you’re doing, buddy!’

 “What- A-Ahh!” Blake, still straining like he’s passing a stone, looks down to see his cock fly out of his zipper and start to shoot off clear piss like a hose! “Ah! Hey!” Blake’s hands go to his cock, but he feels his hands and forearms get cold again as be grabs his member with both hands and start whipping and circling his liquid arch about. Next his lips get cold before he starts whooping out of his check.  

“WOOWOOWOOWOOWOOWOOOOOOOO!” Twirling pee spirals for a few giggling spectators, Blake felt enough control to tuck his dick back into his tight pants and irk a few times.

 “Ok, playtime’s ovaaAAaaAAGHHH!!” Blake’s mouth gags as a round glowing orb pushes out of his mouth. “Poouughhh! Haagghhh” He makes out the blob of transparent energy wobbling gently in the breeze. Meanwhile, his denim buttcrack springs a bouncy ghostly tail as well. His ass bloops a sound as the phantom’s billowing tail waves and bobs gently behind Blake’s bottom.

 In a desperate move, Bloke’s left hand grabs onto his rump and slaps right on the center, right before his other hand clasps onto his mouth. Bloke’s eyes flicker from cyan to brown as he snorts, feeling his anus slurp and his throat rattle as his thighs spazz and wobble, coughing and gurgling as mists of glowing white waft from both his face and his ass.

 With his hands clasping onto both ends – his right hand holding in his mouth and his left hand pushing onto his ass – Bloke whips around quickly and rushes into the nearest bar and ducks into the bathroom. He gets the door closed and locks it before the harried fleshie makes it to the mirror.

Suddenly the hard struggle stops abruptly.  

“Buaahhhh!” Blake huffs like he couldn’t breathe. Panting, he feels at himself, trying to see if the ghost is no longer possessing him. “Gone? You… What…” He looks up at the mirror and almost yelps as he sees his own reflection grinning at him, complete with cyan colored eyes, “Oh SHIT!”  

“I would, but I don’t wanna ruin those pants.” The mirror said in Polter’s voice. The reflection then reaches back and gives a hard spank on his own rear.

 “Ow!” Blake yelps before he looks down at his own booty. He didn’t slap his own ass, but it sure as heck somebody spanked it. He glares back at the haunted mirror and notices he’s got some tight clothes on him. His hair is done a little differently too, and his torso is too smooth – he had a treasure trail before, and now it’s gone!

“So how does this work??” Blake barks at the mirror, “You just do the fuck you want? I ain’t some faggot!”

 “You are tonight, bonebag.” The reflection smirked, “But I’ll give you credit – usually, a pussy-eating jock like you don’t start fighting back until like 5 AM and shit. You got yourself a strong head.”

 “What are you even talking about? A-AhhHHH!” Blake gives a pathetic yelp as he looks down at his shirt – both of his nipples are pushing forward under his shirt, but they feel like they’re being pinched like purple nurples! He looks up to the mirror and sees his reflection has both nipples being yanked by his hands.  

“Here’s how it’s gonna go down, fleshie.” Polter says in the mirror, “Turns out, you’re too strong for me to hold your brain for more than a couple hours. So if I can’t control your mind, I just gotta manage you carefully.” He lets go his nipples, letting Blake huff and groan in relief, rubbing his stinging nubs a bit.

“But what the fuck?! I thought I got rid of you!”

“Pffff. What, with the cross gag? Think Jesus on a stick was gonna fuck me off?” Polter scoffed, “I ain’t a demon, jackass! I’m a fuckin poltergeist! Case you’re a bigger dumbfuck than you look, there IS a difference.”

“Fuck off.” Blake retaliated, “This is MY body! You’re trying to steal it, and I’m getting you out of me!”

“Or, and hear me out on this:” Polter holds his hands up in a sort of compromise approach. “You just let me take over completely, and let me have my fun. Sound like a deal?”

 “You fuck… And what if I say no?? Am I gonna have to get myself into a church to-” Blake’s eyes widen as the mirror puts his hand into his own pants. Blake then ducks his head to see the front of his jeans wiggle about as his sac feels an invisible hand, “No, nonononOOOOO” Blake squeals as his balls get a hard yet slow yank. His hands duck down and grasp at his nuts, but his reflection in the mirror is still grinning as his hidden hand still torments his testicles. ”Fk! FK! Letthefuckgo! Gyyaahhh!”  

“Now look. I was all for erasing your memory once this was over. But since you decided to fight back too soon, I’m just gonna have to manage how I can. I can take total control on and off, but now you’re making me have to be jump through some fuckin hoops here!” The mirror then pulls his hand out and then licks his lips and gives Blake a solid stare, “Ready for take two?”  

“Take two??” Blake frowns, “What does thaa…” Blake irks as he feels the familiar shift rise and smoke into his body again. His eyes close roll up and close and his face shakes a bit and wobbles his cheeks and lips before he reopens his eyes with the color of cyan and his mouth curling into a wicked sneer.  

“Theeeere we go” Polter says through Blake’s lips.  

“What the?? What NOW?” The mirror says. Blake looks at what he thinks is his ‘reflection’, but the surroundings are reversed. “What, am I trapped here??”  

“Relax, dumbfuck.” Polter snickers “I ain’t no wizard, not like I can put you in a mirror THAT way. Though that would make things easier if I could.”

 “What are you even TALKING about?!” Blake exasperatedly rants in the mirror, “Just cut this shit out!!”  

“Nuh-uh. I ain’t done with you just yet, bonebag. See ya next time” The possessed male then turns to leave.

 Desperate, Blake looks around for a way to stop him. In the mirror, Polter was able to screw with him from there. Can a reverse be possible??  

Biting his lip, Blake reluctantly but quickly grabs the back of his underpants under the jeans, and gives a hard YANK! “Try moving with an Atomic… WEDGIE!”

 “OoOOoo!” Polter staggers and arches his back as his anus feels a harsh rag burn rush up, “Mmh, not bad, mm!”  

“Yeah, you’re not going ANYWHERE!” Blake shouts from the glass as he gives another sharp yank! “UH! GHH! Take THIS you freaky fuck!”

 “EEeeee! Ahhh! WooohooOO!” Polter just laughs and yelps in Blake’s body, holding onto his knees as his ass forces him to stagger up and yank up a few times. His pants and underwear show no difference as he receives the phantom wedgie, “Fuck yeah, show this ass crack no mercy! FFFuck yeah!” Polter sneers over his shoulder and grooves his bum in circles at the mirror, “Fuck me, I might just stay in here and let you get creative!”

 “What- you- You’re ENJOYING this?!” Blake lets go as he huffs with frustration, “What kind of stupid sick fuck ARE you?!”  

“Awww, why’d you stop?” Polter snickers as his hands go to rub his booty, “You give awesome wedgies, meat-sack. Wish I was half the nerds you fucked with in high school.”  

“Are you KIDDING me?!”  

“Nope!” Polter waves him off. “Later, bonebag.” With that, the controlled body exits the bathroom. Once the door closes, Blake disappears in the mirror, and once again ends up subconscious in his own head.  

Strutting through the club, Bloke searches for his next quarry. His electric blue eyes look left, right, his pants sporting a rod-shaped bulge. So many hot guys of many different shapes and sizes!  

Finally, Bloke spots a hot fat black guy. Nice and round burly build, rocking ass. A real bear. ”Mmmhh… Polty likes him some thicc chocolate man, MMFF…”  

Bloke grins as he comes up behind him, his arm coming in low and hot, “Dayum, that is a fat ASS”  

SMACK

 “Ah!!” The chubby stranger jumps from his behind being slapped. He turns around and glares at smirking jackass before him, “The hell’s your problem?”  

“The problem is your balls is supposed to be on my face like a mask by now, but’s far as I’m concerned,” Bloke then reaches up and cups and grabs onto the man’s round pecs bulging in his shirt.

 “Uunnhh,” The big and tall black man irks and flinches as his manboobs are fondled.

 “All I got to work with is your tits!” Bloke teases before the beefy arm slaps his arms away. “You like’em pal? Cause I wanna do you things for-”  

“Buddy, you wanna back up before I jack you up?”

 “Psh, what are ya gonna do? Sit on me?” Bloke retorts. Before the dude could respond, he gaps as Bloke reaches down past his hip and starts fondling and slapping his rump, “Cause that’s just about all I’m thinkin about.”

 “Fuck, you’re cruisin me?” The dark bear bites his lower juicy lip as Bloke starts to grab and knead his big round gut. Now that he knows this weirdo is actually hitting him up…  

“Come on, chocolate thunder.” Bloke grins as he digs his hands under the guy’s shirt to start playing with those nipples, “How about you take me to one of these rooms and show a white jackass like me how to be a little bitch?”

 “F-Fuck…” The black chubbster flinches and groans as Bloke keeps just fondling and coming on to him. Bloke glances down and sees a tent forming in the guy’s lap.  

“You know I’m just gonna start humping your leg until you- Oop!” Bloke suddenly finds himself yanked to the side as the hefty stud almost forces him to one of the private rooms.

 Similar to a hotel, just a simple bed in a small room where guys enter and fuck. Bloke chuckles deviously as he can hear moans and howls of pleasure from the other rooms – no doors to these cubbies, just curtains to give some illusion of privacy. All that illuminates the surroundings is dark purple and blue lamp posts hanging from the ceiling.

With half of the bars or clubs on Goldenrod Avenue, they will have an area where their customers and guests get weird and sexy in them – some, like Rockin Cox, have a sort of orgy-room where guys just fuck and suck in the open, while others, like the one Bloke is currently in now, will have somewhat secluded places where patrons can go nuts for.  

The two of them go into one and the large-bellied bear closes it. By the time they’re ready, Bloke’s shirt is already flying and his jeans pool at his ankles, showing that he’s wearing some neon green undies that leave little to the imagination.  

“So, ya gotta name, or am I just supposed to call ya ‘Black Beauty’.” Bloke smirks before those thick hands shove him down. “Oof!”

 “Man, shut the hell up.” The chubby guy says as he removes his shirt, really showing off muscular arms, thick pecs covered with a thin layer of black wool with thick nipples, and a very rotund belly that wobbles with every step.

   “Ohhhhh yeah, come to fuckin pap-” Bloke is interrupted as the huge fat stud straddles him. Those hungry lips start gnawing and growling at Bloke’s neck. “Hohhhhhhuhuhuhhh” Bloke’s legs tuck around the heavy guy’s thick hips and just about starts humping his hard lump into that deep belly button.

 “You ain’t gonna be so cocky now, huh?” The deep bear growled as he looks down to see Bloke grabbing his pecs.

“Hoohhhhhhhhh you are such a fucking sexy blanket.” Bloke basks in this man’s heft and vast warmth. “I fuckin want you to eat me alive.”

“Psshhh, you an idiot.” He says as he pushes his strength further upon Bloke.  

“You gonna fuckin punish me or what? Am I gonna have to start calling you a ni- GOMF!” Deceptively fast for his size, the fat suitor has already shoved his musky bulge right into Bloke’s mouth.

 “You fuckin talk too much, ya dumb fuck. My name is Barry.”  

“Mmllgg, mmllmmggk” Bloke slurps and gurgles with his mouth full of Barry’s thick pouch.  

“Heh. Bitch says what?” He asks as he removes his heavily loaded crotch from Bloke’s mouth.  

“Just gonna say, anyone ever tell you that your cock is fuckin delicious?”  

“Pfff, heh heh heh” Barry moves himself up and then sits right on Bloke’s chest and peels his underwear down and lets that thick elephant trunk of a penis flop right out.

 “OhhhhfffFFFFUCK yes!” Bloke grins wider as he sees those huge nuts also emerge from their hiding place, one drooping after the other.  

“Suck my balls, lil bitch.” Barry says as he shoves his fat balls onto Bloke’s face.

 “Heh… I’ll get into character then…” Bloke grins as a wisp of cyan smoke glimmers from his face.

 At that moment, Blake’s eyes revert to normal. He gasps as he sees the massive meat before him as well as the thick testicles now gracing his presence, not to mention how this fat black man’s weight is pressing down on him on in this low-lit room!

What’s going on?! How did he get here! He only remembers the stupid ghost walking out of the bathroom, and he blinks and now there’s a fat naked black man teabagging him!!

 He opens his mouth to shout out loud, but his lips feel that cold tingle. Hearing the eerie giggle inside his skull, his mouth pulls itself to start smooching and slobbering onto Barry’s sweaty testicles. “Mmmpp! Annggmullmmpp”

 “Oh fuck yeah, lick those balls, bitch, lick them balls” Barry says as he smushes his heavy orbs onto those starving lips.  

Blake can almost make out the light-blue outline from within his mouth muscles – it’s that ghost possessing only his lips and tongue, he can practically see the asinine poltergeist’s smile. Fully conscious, he cringes with inner disgust as the ghost haunts his lips and just sucks on that sac, fitting one ball into his mouth to slurp and gulp before his head shakes to slip and slide the other one.  

Blake watches as all the nut-sucking makes Barry’s huge cock slowly rise and erect. He secretly quivers as it just keeps getting bigger! That black monster thickens and engorges from his voracious slurping and guzzling.

 Just when that dong fully erects, Barry rises up, popping his loose-dangling sac from Blake’s mouth. The fat bear strokes his member as he looks at the panting little bitch before him. Blake can barely move, his drool trailing off the side of his mouth as that thick and round stud maneuvers himself.

“Wanna taste, ya lil bitch?” Barry mutters thickly as he strokes his member next to Blake’s face.

“H-Haalluummm!” Blake, unable to control his own head, turns his have and glues his lips right around that fat cock. He snorts and sucks that thick meat as if someone is pushing some kind of lewd button in his head.

Everything about this is making Blake cringe with distaste and disgust. He keeps trying to shove the guy away or bite down on his cock, but every time that thought occurs, Polter just makes Blake deep-throat him!

“Ooohhhffffuuuuuck…” Barry moans as Blake sucks him hard and greedily. “Mmmmmhhhhssshhhiiitt… This is fuckin hot, man.”

Blake irks and groans as he tries to fight back, but this is nothing like how he fought Polter on a sidewalk – how can he try to take over a single body part??

Before he knew it, Barry pulls is soaking dripping dick out and moves away. Blake has a full view of that dark moon of his before he can feel the ghost trying to possess his mind again. He clenches his eyes and tries to block him out. He can actually hear the perverted phantom giggling as he feels the mental intrusion in the form of a mild headache pressing on the front of his brain.  

“Now. Before I sit on yo face.” Barry says as he gets a few things.  

-Click-cick, juh-cack-  

Blake irks as he looks and sees his wrists are bound by leather straps. “Wh-Wha?! Hey, what the fuck??”  

“I don’t got a lot of time. And the way you smack talkin me? I’mma make sure you get punished by the time I gotta leave”

 Blake feels that odd light-headed sensation again. He blinks, and suddenly his ankles are being raised up by some built in pully-system from the ceiling! “What the fuck, wha”  

“Hah, damn boy” Barry laughs as he looks at Blake, “You horny as hell, huh?”  

Blake looks, and sure enough, that ghost is making Blake’s naked pelvis - NAKED??! What happened to his underpants?? Now his cock is standing on end and almost wagging in circles in its full erection. He can still hear Polter giggling and cackling, almost from inside his penis!  

Losing track of himself from the revulsion, Polter once again possesses Blake’s brain, and those eyes and grin take over once more “Oh I’m CONSTANTLY horny, fatass!”

 “Yeah, you horny, bitch?” Barry says as he walks over and straddles up on the bed. “You bout to put your mouth where my ass is.” Bloke licks his lips as his hard rod starts to drool like crazy as the large nude tubbo turns around.  

Blake writhes and forces the ghost away from his brain again, “GhhHHH! Get out of my HEAD!” He hissed furiously.  

‘Hah hah! Have it YOUR way, bonebag!’ Polter snickers inside Blake’s mind.  

“Huh?” The next thing Blake knows, he’s staring at the hovering twins of two massive chocolate globes, both cheeks perfectly round “Oh no…” He jerks and pulls at his arms and legs as he can feel the heat from Barry’s bottom, “No no, nonono”  

Barry then sits and bites his lip as he gnashes his big clean and sweaty crack right into Blake’s stubble, “This what you want, lil fuck bitch?” He says as he grinds his massive rump into Blake’s face.

“MMnngghh! FFFNNHH!” Blake fights and struggles in disgust as the thick and musky crevice sits on his face. His stomach purges as he feels both his lips and his tongue feel the cold chill again…  

“Kiss my ass, ya douche.” Barry taunts as he slaps his own rotund rump. As if on command, Blake’s lips suddenly glues itself onto Barry’s butthole! “Oh! Aw shit!” Barry gaps as his pucker feels a harsh suction.  

Out of his own control, Blake grunts and continues to squirm as all he can taste is this fatty’s sweaty anus as his lips start to squelch and slurp at the black man’s hole.

 “Oh fuck, man! You, whoooaa!” Barry’s thick hands grasp onto Blake’s trim thighs as both men’s dicks reach a huge arousal as Blake’s face goes to town into Barry’s ass.  

Blake irks and whines harshly as that freaking ghost possesses his very tongue! His wet sliver shoves its way into that tight sphincter and licks just about every inch of that tunnel.

 “HooOOolyYYy fuuUUuuck!” Barry straddles firmly as his own fat cock leaks like crazy as he masturbates! His huge booty flexes and wobbles as this cocky white jerk-off eats his hole in places only dildos, enemas, and cocks have reached.

 Even Blake crosses his eyes as he feels his tongue had grown and slurp that tunnel in circles, really tasting the inside of this man’s clean meaty asshole and sampling the deep prostate. He swears, if his tongue gets any longer or bigger, he could very well be licking the inside of Barry’s dick!  

“Whoa, hachi-machi” Says a different voice. Blake can’t see past the dark brown hide of Barry’s round build, but his face goes red as he can just feel someone else at the doorway watching him. “Damn, Bare-Bare, wish I’d known you were here sooner, I’ve been missing your badonk-ka-donk”  

“Dude, this guy I’m sitting on?” Barry says, “He eats ass liiike aahhhh!” Barry moans as he arches his back into Blake’s head. Barry gaps and squeezes Blake’s thighs as that tongue sinks into a very hot zone. “OH! AaahhHH! AH!”

“Goddamn! Hands-free??” Says the stranger with disbelief. Blake can just about feel Barry cum - that hot spunk could be felt on Blake’s semi-hairy abs, his pelvis, and a few other spots.

“Fuckin damn, MMFF…” Barry groans as he gets up.

“BUUHHH!” Blake gasps for air as that huge black bear gets off, his tongue instantly returning to normal size. “Fuck… Fuck… I can’t… I don’t want to be awake for theeh…” He irks and gulps as his eyes close and the ghost takes over again. “I-I can’t…”

“Huh?”

Donning cyan eyes and a very hungry smile, Bloke licks his lips as he stares at the new comer “Get enough of that fat ASS. Wanna use me??”  

“Heh, sure, I’m up.” The guy says as he undoes his pants.

“Leave the curtain open,” Bloke tells him, “Keep’em coming!” Barry chuckles as the cocky idiot strapped down just about begs for it, “I wanna gets used up and full of cum by the time midnight hits my balls!”  

“Hahahaha, is he for real?” The new suitor says as he gets naked and starts bouncing Bloke’s balls with his hand.  

“Thirsty bitches are thirsty.” Barry laughs as he pulls his pants back up and grabs his shirt. ”Meanwhile, I gotta get goin. My ride’s waiting on me.”  

“HEY! Where you goin, fatass???” Bloke calls as that denim-packed behind walks out, “I want more chocolate- gulk!” Suddenly his mouth clogged with a thick wad of Italian sausage drooling with pre.  

“Get in line, bud.” The tan and horny stranger says as he starts to roll his thickening cock into Bloke’s mouth, “I saw that ass first, and I’m gonna make you pay for eating it before I do.”

“Mllnnmmgg, mrrmllmm,” Bloke slurps as his mouth curls into a sneer with his mouth full of meat.

 “Bitch says what? I can’t hear y- Ahhlp!” The man yelps as he staggers forward! His pole was suddenly sucked RIGHT into Bloke’s kisser with the force of a wet vacuum! “Gyaahh! Ohhhh! FfffFFFuuuuck!”  

Bloke’s lips ooze with spit as they just about seal right into the base of that cock - his cheeks, throat, and tongue massaging every inch of that rod.

“F-Fuck, stop! You’re gonna make me blow too soon! I wanna… S-ShiiIIiit, fuck!” The Italian stud’s butt jiggles as he attempts to regain his stance. Bloke is NOT going easy on him, even with the stud planting his feet on the ground, he can’t even pull his hips back, Bloke’s moist mouth has a famished lock on him! Bloke is really sucking him for everything he’s got!  

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” He strains and presses his thighs between Bloke’s head as his muscles tense, “FFFFFF… Shhiiiiit!”  

In 2 minutes, Bloke’s cheeks puff on either side as the cock in his mouth gushes with hot white gravy. Bloke snorts and gulps down every drop as he flat-out milks this guy for all he’s worth. He grunts and is finally able to slip his dribbling meat from Bloke’s lips.

“You fuckin asshole…” The Italian guy begrudgingly groans.

“Yeah? Not my fault you’re easy to drink! Shoulda went for the- woop!” Bloke irks as his body is turned over. The stranger then restraps the pully-system around Bloke’s waist, ankles, and then tied his wrists together on his back, forcing him into a presenting position with his naked ass exposed and his cock throbbing under him with his knees spread and propped on the bed.  

“Yeeeeeaaah! Now you’re talking, quick-shot!” Bloke jeered as he wags his ass left and right, “Show everyone what a stupid slut I am! I’m just a cock-crazed asshole that needs a gut full of spunk!”  

“Fuck, you’re a goddamn pig…” The guy remarks as he spanks that ass a few times.

“Ooh! Mmhh! Grkk!” Bloke jumps and grunts with each spank – this guy is hitting his ass very hard.

“If you weren’t such a cocky jackass who blew me too hard, I might actually like you.”

“I can ONLY be a horny jackass!” Bloke retorts, “Quit yapping and get my ass split in half, fuckin moron!” SPANK! “OOF! Aw yeah…!”  

“Heh, right, fine…” The man says before a click was heard. Bloke’s head jerks a little as he feels a cold line trace on his upper right buttock. “Two guys served.” He then writes the black sharpie on the small of Bloke’s back:  

FUCK HOLE COUNT  

“Ooh, looks hot.” Says another new voice, a blonde jock peeking in on the display.  

“You looking? Go for it.” The last guy says, “Just remember to mark his ass when you’re done.”

“Ooh, sweet!” Says the new guy as he takes the marker and draws a third short line on the tally. He grins as he then writes on the opposite cheek:  

COCK WARMER With an arrow pointing at Bloke’s pucker

 “Ooh, that tickles.” Bloke snickers as he feels the ink parker push and curve on his flesh. He feels the bed shift and weigh down before a pair of hands grasp onto his manly hips. “Ooh yeah, plow right in, baby. Ya gotta-” Without much prompting, Bloke feels his hole spread open and the built male behind him pushes in his lubed cock. “OOOooo yeah, get in there, yeeeaah!”

“Mmmm, ohhh fuuuuuck” The jock moans as his member slides on in and mounts Bloke fully, “You feel amaaaaazing.” He moans pleasantly as he starts to hump Bloke in a smooth rhythm.

“Mm, mm, mm, mm, mm, come on, you can pound harder than that.” Bloke smirks as the guy humps him gently.

 “So good… God, I can do this all night.”

“Yeeeeaaah. Sorry, bud.” Bloke grins as his buttcheeks flex. “I ain’t got all night.”  

“W-Whoa!” The jock yelps as Bloke’s sphincter suddenly slurps his cock right in! “Wh-Wha-th-what the fuck??” That dick was squeezed before he feels the anal muscles actually push him out. He gaps as his pelvis is forced back, as if Bloke’s asshole is sliding that dick all on its own, right before his hips is forced forward into that anus!

 “Whoa fuck!” The jock moans out as that ass basically forces his cock to fuck itself into Bloke’s ass again and again. “Ah-ah-AH-ah-AH-ah!”  

“Get with the program yet? I want dick, and I wannit now!” Bloke says as his rearend sucks the hell out of that meat.

“Shit, how are you doing that??!” The nude top moans out. He attempts to mount Bloke properly, but damn if that semi-sentient butthole is going to let him fuck is own way! That anus just milks and USES his cock over. Bloke grunts and grins as his hole slurps and sucks that dick in, feeling that man’s pelvis touch his butt before he pushes him backward.  

“Fuck, f-U-u-Uck!” The jock whines and unloads himself right into Bloke. It’s now that that controlling pucker stops flexing and contorting and allows him to pull out.

 “NOW you’re gettin it!” Bloke taunts as he wags his butt some more, the spunk that just filled him up sealed inside like a vacuum, “You USE a butthole, ya don’t play with it!”

“Fuck, I need a snack…” The jock sighs as he waddles away.

“Well! Isn’t anybody gonna-” Before Bloke can complain about his lack of meat, he feels someone heavy behind him. A fourth line is drawn on his butt before the words ‘CUM DUMPSTER’ is scribed on one of his buttcheeks.

 He dons another gleeful grin as he feels some rugged hands on his hips, “Oh fuck, you better split me in half, big gu-uuuUUUUYYYY!” Bloke’s eyes widen as his pucker is forced open by a massive force.

 “Mnnnhh yeah, nice and wet…” Says a deep voice. Without even looking, Bloke can tell he’s dealing with a massive body builder.

“Gllkk! Christ, I think you’re hitting the back of my throat! Ohhhh!” Bloke grunts and arches his back as he bites his lip, his anal muscle really reveling in the girth of this huge rod. Even those very heavy canon balls slapping Bloke’s own testicles is enough to make Bloke flinch and jerk.  

“Fuck yeah…” The man says as he pulls back and starts to thrust into Bloke’s butt.

 “Ulk! Fuk! Alk! OOF! Fuck! SHIT! Yeah! NNH!” Bloke’s dick goes rigid as his tunnel is full of the hard meat. He winces and growls with lust as those massive nuts almost slam into his perineum.

“Mmmfuck yes, you little faggot, yeaahhh” He says as he puts a strong hand down on Bloke’s back to really start railing into him.

“You’re fucking enormous! I’m not gonna shit right for weeks! Agh! FuuUUUUuuUUuuk!”  

“Take my cock, asshole, you ain’t going nowhere until I breed your tight little ass.”  

“I-AIN’T-goin-NOwhere-till-YOUR-balls-DUMP-YOUR-fuckin-loOOaaaAAD!”

“Grrmmhh, that’s what I like to hear, lil fucker.” The man says as he starts to really nail Bloke’s ass.  

“OOOooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOHHHH!” Bloke’s body jerks and flops back and forth, really testing the limit of his restraints as the giant behind him deals some massive blows into his hole.    

What feels like hours later, Blake groans as he waddles into an unfamiliar room - he has no idea where he is, just that his vision is somewhat blurred, like he’s just getting through a hangover. He is completely nude, his ass feels extremely firm and stiff, like he did some sort of inane buttocks workout for an entire day at the gym – is there such a thing??

He looks down at his abs as his guts churn and slosh. He just knows his bowels are jam-packed with sperm. He feels like he hasn’t taken a dump in a WEEK. As sore and used as his sphincter is, he’s guessing that damn ghost is the one making sure his behind stays ‘intact’. Though he still feels as though the dam is about to bust.

“Ok… Fuck… Demon…” Blake whines weakly as he approaches a full length mirror, “You’re… Done… So… Lemme…” Now he looks up and gaps at his reflection. Aside from the cyan eyes, just about everything is different on him! He’s drenched in both sweat and a white syrup, for one! On his face, his fingers trace over his cheek the words ‘SPUNK GUZZLER’ and the opposite cheek reads the sharpie words ‘HORNY CUNT’

 “Haaaooohhhh!” Blake moans with shock and disbelief. He looks down and sees the words ‘ASS FAGGOT’ across his stomach, or else reading ‘PUSSY BITCH’ on his hip.  

“Wanna check the back?” The mirror asked with an evil grin, “You’re a regular canvas!”  

Blake feels his body operate on its own and turns himself around and just about yelps as he sees all the five-count dashes all over his ass, his thighs, the small of his back. With more profane and slutty words written in black ink on his backside. “What the FUCK??!”

“Yeeeaaaahh” The reflection says as the nude mirror wiggles his perfect butt; Blake grunts as his own body again moves out of his own control “Your ass was more popular than I thought. You MAY have just about fucked everyone on the block.”

“Fucking dammit…” Blake turns back around frowns angrily at the giggling mirror, “Alright. You had your fun. Now get out of me!”

“Heh, heh heh, right. Sure. Whatever. Lemme flush you out.” The reflection grins as he reaches his hands back behind him and starts playing with his butt.

“The fuck you doing now?! I’m demanding yoouuuUUUuuu…” Blake low-key howls and cringes as his anus suddenly feels loose and hot. He freezes and irks with shock as he just knows his own ass is squirting like a white-goo fountain. He winces as he hears Polter’s laughing in his brain while his hole drains him of the club’s spunk loads. Blake just stands awkwardly until his asscrack reduces the cum-flow to a pearly white trail behind his balls and down his leg…

“Jesus, you’re disgusting…” Blake whines as he feels the ghost hooting and hollering from inside. His entire rump is soaked with a thick layer of cum now, “You had sex with everyone here! You just-”

“Whoa whoa whoa, cum-bucket.” The reflection says, “We’re not done yet. I’m just getting started!”

Blake stares in horror and fury at his grinning counterpart in the mirror, “You… You just said you fucked everyone here!”

“Correction: I said YOU fucked around the block.” Polter holds his arms open, “Wake up, son! Goldenrod Avenue is more than a block!”

“Ok… Ok…” Blake holds up his hands, almost desperate to try and reason the ghost, “Look… How about if… We…”

“What? Just stop?” Polter scoffs in the mirror, “Or tell me you’re willing to suck a few dicks or fuck a few asses, that’ll somehow appease me if ya do it yourself?”

“Guh…” Blake moans with disbelief and frustration – how did Polter know that’s exactly what he was going to propose?!

“Ohhh meatbag.” Polter sneers, “The point of negotiation is way gone now. I’m inside your head now. I get to play with your body whenever I fuckin feel like.”

“No, you, I can’t do this!”

“I can!” Polter smirks, “Now. Here’s what’s gonna happen, since you gots no say here.” The phantom mirror tells him, “I’m gonna take a few pictures of you like this, you look fucking hot all covered in sharpie, cum, and sweat. THEN” He points out before Blake can argue, “I’m gonna clean your body up, get dressed, and maybe I’ll feel like doin something else, whether you wanna like it or not.”

“No! I’m DONE!” Blake shouts at the mirror. “If you so much assss…” Blake drones and groans as the ghost once again shifts fully into his brain and possesses him once more.

“Ok. I think we’re done here, fleshie.” Bloke grins at himself in the mirror, and walks out that door, still completely nude, marked, and half drenched in sperm and sweat.

[mcnasty0200]

The Cure for a Break-Up

“I still can’t believe it.” Josh mumbles, flipping through old pictures on his phone, “I really didn’t see it coming.”

Tanner looked up from his videogame and shrugged, “Dude, it’s a break up. Shit happens.” He scratches his wiry pit hairs, scrunching his nose at the smell of his own BO, “How long are you gonna go on about it?” Josh glares at his roommate, “Just sayin’ dude, gotta bang and go. Keep it simple.”

“Yeah, but Haley...” Josh sighs, “You wouldn’t get it. She wasn’t like one of your random hookups. I met her in high school... We’ve been dating for years... I was gonna propose when we graduated... I...” Tears threatened to fall.

“Fuck dude!” Tanner slams his controlled down, “I fuckin’ lost.” He glares up at his roommate, “You’re killin’ my vibe dude.”

He walks over to Josh, “Wipe those tears and man the fuck up.” He digs his finger into Josh’s chest, “I could handle a few days of this. Shit, we didn’t say anything when you fucked up on the field last week. But now? It’s gettin’ old roomie.”

“Fuck off Tanner, I...”

“Live a little bro. You’ve been banging the same chick for the last 7 years.” Tanner smirks, “You have a chance to really enjoy yourself now. Be free, bro.”

Josh let out a grunt as Tanner grabs a fistful of his lean pecs and gives them a firm squeeze.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Josh recoils and moves away from his roommate, “I’m not into that... Huh?”

Josh can’t help be feel an inexplainable warmth radiating out from his pecs. He brings a hand to them, the feeling of the fabric against his sensitive nipples causing him to moan. He looks up towards Tanner, who is sporting a smug smirk.

“What did you.... oooooohhhhhhh...” Josh moans as his lean pecs start to swell.

He can feel them press against the fabric of his shirt, straining against it. The two mounds of flesh continue to grow, forming into a pair of squeezable muscle tits. And as Josh lifts his shirt to inspect them, another moan escapes his mouth. Just the feeling of the cool air against his nips and bounceable pecs was enough to cause his dick to stir.

“Oh fuck...” He plays with his pec, biting his lip, “Dude... what...”

But there’s more to it. Josh looks as his hand seems to thicken and become meatier. Muscle packs on to his forearms and travels up to his shoulders, giving his arms an impressive glow-up. The firm muscles of his bis and tris jutting out, putting even more strain on his tightening shirt. Even his shoulders start to widen, causing his shirt to ride up and expose his stomach, which is contorting and shifting.

“This isn’t possible... Tanner...” Josh grabs his head and closes his eyes, “Tanner I can’t...”

“J-man, ya gotta shut up for once.” Tanner mutters, “Most men would fuckin’ kill for a pair of tits like that.” He walks over and grabs a fistful, “And my man, this is just the start.”

Josh lets out another grunt as his torso expands and widens. Each pulsation sending a wave of pain and pleasure through Josh’s expanding body. Through half-lidded eyes, he looks down and grunts as his shirt finally rips away. His eyes widen in surprise. A red tank-top covers his torso, although truthfully it did little to hide what was underneath. His fat pecs jutted out around it- unable to be contained. And he could appreciate the itching as tiny hairs emerged from his once clean-shaven skin.

“Give ‘em a squeeze, you know you want to.” Tanner chuckles.

“Fuck yeah...” Josh mutters, realizing he sounds drunk. He brings his meaty hand to his pecs, giving them a tender, loving squeeze, “Oh shit...” He scrunches his nose as the musky smell from his pits tickles his nose, “I smell...”

“Fuckin’ great man.” Tanner interjects, “C’mon, give it a whiff.”

And Josh raises his increasingly muscular arm and does just that. The smell of his own musk sets off something primal in his shrinking brain and he grabs his cock with his meaty hand. Memories and images of himself shift within his mind, where an increasing acceptance of these changes blossoms. Memories of date nights turn into one-night fuck sessions. His dreams of a family shift into a series of kinks and ways to get off.

“Tanner...Please...Don’t....” Josh grunts, a swelling sense of pride in his muscles emerging. A total disregard for anyone else burning away his capacity for deep emotional connections.

"Bro, I told ya." Tanner replies, "Its a lot better this way. Trust me."

Josh wants to argue. To tell him he's wrong. But he realizes with a sense of increasing dread he doesn't recall anything different. No memory of his committed relationship. No desire for anything different. He bites his lip- savoring the feel of his body. His masculinity. His ability to get what he wanted, when he wanted.

“Fuck... why didn’t you do this to me earlier?” He breaths out, continuing to pump his engorged member- its girth and length growing in his calloused hand, “You fuckin’ held out on me, bro.”

“Nah man, I don’t think you wanted this.” Tanner shrugs, “After all you and Haley...”

“Who?” Josh’s voice ragged.

Tanner smirks, “Exactly, broski.”

Josh grunts and pulls the tank-top off- his musk filling the room. He grunts at the site of his meaty pecs, firm abdominal muscles, and the blanket of hair covering his growing body.

“I’m a stud.” He mutters, “A beast.”

“Yeah, yeah Josh.” Tanner replies.

“No for real, dude. Take a fuckin’ look.”

Josh moans as a tattoo becomes engraved in his meaty pec and arm. He looks at it, a grin spreading across his face. He firmly grabs his cock and falls to the couch, pumping relentlessly. He was made for this. A bull with a massive cock. Anyone... everyone would be lucky to pleasure it. He throws his head back, not even registering as his jaw squared out, his eyes dull, and light stubble emerges on his cheeks.

“Oh god yes.” His voice is deeper, carrying an arrogant air to it, “I’m gonna... I’m....”

He sees his body. The muscle, the hair. The smell of his ripe pits. His massive dick. It felt so right... so good... A deep love for himself bathed his neurons. No one was as good as him.

"Ahhhhhh fuck yes...."

Ropes of sticky cum shoot from his monster of a cock, coating his hairy chest and abdomen. After a few ragged breaths, his dull eyes open and he grins.

“Feel better?” Tanner asks, throwing Josh his tank-top.

“The fuck you talkin’ about?” Josh catches it and wipes away his seed before wearing the tank-top, “Never felt anything but great.”

“Sure stud.” Tanner sits on the couch, getting back into his videogame.

The two sit in silence, while Josh scrolls through his phone with one hand and paws at his cock with the other.  

“Fuck yeah.” Josh smirks and stands up, “That fairy from econ wants to worship these.” He gives his pec a bounce, “Always knew he wanted to. He’s lucky I’m feeling generous.” Another ding on his phone and his smirk widens, “And that slut from the cheer team wants to meet up later.”

“Look at you go.” Tanner remains focused on his game.

“Pfft have fun with your game, bro.” Josh mumbles, “Wastin’ your time if you ask me.”

Tanner watches as Josh leaves, “Fuckin’ finally. Just need to rank up...” He continues to play his game, no longer bothered by any distractions.

Meanwhile, Josh sat in his car. He always liked to send his next fuck-toy a preview of what was to come. With a satisfied smirk, and a new lease on life, Josh revved his engine and headed off.

[mcnasty0200]

Stinky’s Special Sauce

FULL DISCLOSURE GUYS; THE FOLLOWING STORY WAS AI GENERATED. Might get some flack for this but found an AI story generator and decided to play around with it to see if it could create possession scenarios. It took a few tries. Definately not perfect and this a rough generated story but it is interesting to see the possibilities of AI.  Soz just once again NOT CREATED BY ME, CREATED BY AN AI STORY GENERATOR,

Paulo was used to working the late shifts at the burger joint all by himself. Whenever the place was quiet, he would often chat to his friends on the phone about his latest exploits. This night, however, he was ordering extra supplies for the restaurant, when suddenly Paulo felt something strange enter his body from the back.

He grabbed his phone with a trembling hand and nervously asked the vendor on the other end, ‘Uh, is there anyone else in the restaurant with me right now?’

But there was no one. Paulo was alone.

Suddenly, he felt something thrust inside of him and his entire body filled with a burning heat. He screamed out loud in pain, as he realized what was happening. 'WO-O-O-AH! What is happening to me!?’

Paulo had been possessed by a horny ghost named Stinky. He could feel the ghost inside of him and it was already trying to take control. The vendor on the phone was concerned, and asked if everything was alright.

Stinky, taking over the fry cook’s body, replied in a slutty manner: 'Oh yes, everything is SO much better now. I feel stuffed in my ass! Sorry, I gotta take care of this raging boner.’ He hung up the phone, leaving the vendor completely baffled.

The possessed cook then proceeded to strip naked and reveled in his newfound body. He flexed his muscles, making them swell larger than ever before and admiring the newfound growth. He began to emit a powerful body odour from his pits in which he stuck his face and inhaled deeply. He raised his head and sighed in content. His cock had also become hard and pre-cum began to drip down its length.

Stinky imagined what his new body could do, and soon enough he had put his newfound desires into action. He began to grope himself and eventually grabbed a cucumber to use as a makeshift dildo. He moaned out loud as he pumped himself, saying a mixture of words such as: 'Oh baby, this feels so hot!’

But Stinky still had a job to do. He hastily put on his shirt, albeit with it pulled up to reveal his lower body, and started making burgers once again. He thought that the customers would never guess that their food was now covered in his special sauce, made from his own cum.

The horny ghost served the burgers through the delivery window, with a wink, and a smile that wasn’t Paulo’s own. As he asked the customers how their food was, Stinky could feel himself getting aroused again.

Reaching back into his apron, he grabbed his cucumber once again and started pumping his cock, in order to make more sauce for his hungry customers. Finally, he shouted out: 'Now THIS is a body! Let’s have some fun!’

The customers looked on, unaware of the wild night Paulo (or rather, Stinky) was having in the kitchen. But despite Stinky’s mischievous ways, the burgers did turn out to be incredibly delicious and soon enough the word was out – customers were flocking to the restaurant, curious to find out what made the sauce so special.

[mcnasty0200]

Finger Licking Good

AI GENERATED STORY OUTLINE: FATSO IS WILDING OUT WITH THIS KOREAN HUNK

In the dim, musty locker room of the old gym, the fluorescent lights flickered overhead as Joon, a Korean bodybuilder with muscles sculpted like a Greek god, wiped the sweat from his brow. He'd just finished an intense workout, and his body glistened with perspiration, highlighting every chiseled contour.

Unbeknownst to him, Fatso, one of the notorious Ghostly Trio, hovered nearby, invisible but watching with keen interest. "Damn, these muscleheads. Always so serious, always so focused. Time for some real fun," Fatso mused, a mischievous grin spreading across his spectral face.

Joon, completely unaware of the ghostly presence, began to strip off his gym clothes. As he admired his reflection in the mirror, his thoughts were interrupted by a sudden chill in the air. "What the hell...?" he muttered, looking around but seeing nothing.

Fatso took this as his cue. He materialized just behind Joon, his translucent form shimmering with an otherworldly glow. "Guess what, big guy? You're about to have the time of your life," Fatso whispered, his voice echoing eerily in the confined space.

Before Joon could react, Fatso lunged forward. His ghostly essence seemed to turn into a swirling vortex, and in a horrifying instant, he forced himself into Joon's open mouth. The sensation was both cold and invasive, like an icy windstorm tearing through his insides.

Joon's eyes bulged in shock as he felt Fatso pushing deeper, his hands clawing desperately at his throat. "N-no...! What... is... happening...?" he gasped, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Fatso's laughter echoed in Joon's mind as he continued his takeover. "Relax, big guy. Just enjoy the ride." Joon's resistance weakened, his muscular arms dropping limply to his sides as his body was overwhelmed by the ghostly presence.

Finally, Joon's eyes, now glowing with a mischievous light, reflected the completion of the possession. Fatso had full control. He stretched Joon's new body, flexing the powerful muscles and feeling the raw strength coursing through his veins.

"Well, well, look at this," Fatso said, his voice a bizarre mix of Joon's deep tones and his own ghostly rasp. "Usually, I go for the fat guys, but there's a first time for everything. And possessing a Korean hunk? Now that's a twist!"

He flexed Joon's biceps, admiring the sheer power. "Damn, this is something else. These muscles are incredible."

Fatso's hands roamed freely over Joon's body, exploring every inch with a mix of curiosity and lust. He fondled the firm pecs, squeezing them with greedy delight. "Nice and firm. Never had a body like this before. So strong, so... perfect."

His hands moved lower, cupping Joon's round, firm ass cheeks and giving them a playful squeeze. "Not bad, not bad at all."

As Fatso's exploration grew more intimate, he slid a hand down Joon's abs, savoring the rigid contours before reaching the growing bulge in the bodybuilder's shorts. "Let's see what this body can really do," he murmured, pulling down Joon's shorts to reveal his throbbing cock.

Fatso began to stroke Joon's member, feeling the rush of arousal that came with it. "Oh yeah, this is more like it," he groaned, the pleasure intensifying as he continued to masturbate with Joon's powerful hands.

"This is amazing. The strength, the control... it's intoxicating," Fatso moaned, his voice thick with lust. He watched in the mirror as Joon's body responded to his every whim, the muscles tensing and relaxing under his command.

As Fatso's strokes became more vigorous, he relished the feeling of Joon's body nearing climax. He glanced at Joon's protein shake on the bench, an idea forming. "Fuck, this feels incredible," he groaned, his voice a mix of Joon's deep tones and his own ghostly echo.

With a final, intense stroke, Fatso pushed Joon's body over the edge. Waves of pleasure crashed over him as he directed the stream of cum into Joon's protein shake. "Ohhh, yes!" Fatso shouted, the ecstasy overwhelming him.

As the pleasure subsided, Fatso leaned back, admiring his handiwork. He picked up the protein shake, giving it a little swirl. "Mmm, extra protein," he said with a wicked grin, raising the shake to his lips. He took a long, deliberate sip, savoring the taste. "Delicious," he said, licking his lips. "This body is going to be a lot of fun."

With a satisfied smirk, Fatso settled into his new form, already plotting his next move. The ghost had found a new playground in Joon's perfect body, and he wasn't about to let go anytime soon.

Possessed Joon returned home, his muscular frame barely fitting through the doorway of his modest apartment. Fatso, now fully in control of Joon's body, reveled in the newfound strength and power. The ghost couldn't help but flex in front of the mirror, admiring the way Joon's muscles bulged and rippled with each movement.

"Gotta keep the protein up, don't you, big boy?" Fatso chuckled, his voice a sinister blend of Joon's deep tones and his own ghostly rasp. He flexed Joon's biceps, enjoying the sight of the massive muscles. "Look at these guns. Damn, I've never had a body like this."

As the evening wore on, a gnawing hunger began to build within him. "Alright, time to feed this beast," Fatso said, grabbing Joon's phone. He scrolled through the food delivery app, eyes gleaming with anticipation. "When in Rome, why not?"

He quickly navigated to a food delivery app and ordered a large helping of Korean fried chicken, grinning with anticipation. "This is gonna be good," he muttered, pacing the room as he hungrily awaited the arrival of his meal. "Can't wait to tear into that chicken."

When the delivery finally arrived, Fatso practically ripped the bag open, his mouth watering at the sight of the crispy, golden chicken. But as he rummaged through the contents, he realized something was missing. "They forgot the sauce. You've gotta be kidding me."

An idea formed in his twisted mind, and he couldn't help but laugh. "Well, time to improvise."

Fatso unzipped Joon's pants, pulling out the bodybuilder's thick cock. He began to stroke it, his oily hands sliding up and down the shaft. "Mmm, this is gonna be one hell of a sauce," he groaned, the pleasure building quickly.

It didn't take long for Fatso to reach the edge, his strokes becoming more frantic. With a final, intense gasp, he came, directing the stream of cum all over the fried chicken. "Ohhh, yes," he moaned, the ecstasy overwhelming him for a moment.

Panting, Fatso picked up a piece of chicken, now dripping with his improvised sauce. "Delicious," he said with a wicked grin, taking a big, sloppy bite. The taste was a bizarre mix of salty and savory, and he devoured it like a pig, juices running down his chin.

His hunger only grew as he ate, the greasy chicken and his own cum combining in a perverse feast. He chewed loudly, savoring every grotesque bite. "Damn, this is good. Who knew adding a personal touch could be so tasty?"

When he ran out of sauce, Fatso didn't hesitate. He used his oily hands to lube up Joon's cock again, stroking it with renewed vigor. "More sauce coming right up," he groaned, his voice thick with lust. With another intense climax, he sprayed more cum over the remaining chicken, laughing maniacally as he did.

Fatso ate with abandon, his body shaking with pleasure and gluttony. Each bite was a perverse delight, the taste and texture pushing him further into his twisted enjoyment. "Mmm, can't get enough of this. This body's got some stamina, that's for sure."

As he continued to feast, Fatso's belly began to swell, a food baby forming from the sheer amount he consumed. He leaned back in the chair, rubbing his bloated stomach with a satisfied smirk. "Now that's what I call a meal," he said, licking his fingers clean. "This body is going to be a lot of fun."

He flexed his muscles again, this time with a bit of difficulty due to the fullness in his gut. "Look at this, a perfect mix of muscle and... indulgence," Fatso chuckled, feeling the tension in Joon's powerful limbs.

With a contented groan, Fatso slid his hands over his distended belly, feeling the firm yet yielding flesh. "Oh yeah, that's the spot. This is what it means to live... well, possess... in style." He laughed, the sound echoing through the apartment. "I think I'm gonna like it here."

Fatso stretched out, already plotting his next indulgence. The ghost had found a new playground in Joon's perfect body, and he wasn't about to let go anytime soon. "This is just the beginning," he murmured to himself, his hands still caressing his bloated belly. "There's so much more fun to be had."

BONUS PT: STRIKE A POSE

The studio was buzzing with energy as the photoshoot for the latest fitness magazine issue was about to begin. Joon, or rather, Fatso inhabiting Joon's muscular body, stood in the center, exuding confidence and raw power. The bright lights illuminated every chiseled line and curve of his physique, making his muscles look even more impressive.

The photographer, a young man named Eric, was setting up his camera and adjusting the lighting. He couldn't help but steal glances at Joon's impressive form, clad only in tight, form-fitting underwear that left little to the imagination.

"Alright, Joon, let's start with some strong poses," Eric instructed, trying to maintain his professional demeanor despite his obvious admiration for Joon's body.

Joon flexed his biceps, striking a pose that showcased his incredible muscle definition. Eric began snapping photos, his camera capturing every detail of Joon's physique.

"So, Joon," Eric said, trying to make small talk as he continued shooting, "what's your fitness routine like? How do you maintain such an amazing body?"

Fatso, unrestrained and uninhibited, smirked. "Oh, you know, gorging on food and having sex all the time. That's my secret workout."

Eric's face turned a deep shade of red, clearly taken aback by Joon's blunt response. "Uh, really? That's, um, interesting."

Joon grinned, enjoying the reaction. "Yeah, nothing like a good feast and some wild fucking to keep these muscles in shape." He flexed again, his erection beginning to strain against the tight fabric of his underwear.

Eric continued snapping photos, but his focus was wavering. Joon noticed and decided to push further, feeling a mischievous thrill. "Looks like you're enjoying this shoot as much as I am," he said, stepping closer to Eric. "You wanna worship this body, don’t you?"

Eric swallowed hard, his professional facade crumbling. "I... I mean, you're in amazing shape, Joon. It's hard not to be impressed."

Joon chuckled, his voice low and seductive. "Go ahead, touch me." He flexed his pecs, making them bounce provocatively. "Feel what real muscle feels like."

Eric hesitated for a moment, then reached out with trembling hands, caressing Joon's hard pecs. "Wow, you're... incredible," he murmured, his fingers exploring the contours of Joon's chest.

"Suck on them," Joon commanded, pushing Eric's head toward his pecs. Eric's lips closed around Joon’s nipple, sucking and licking eagerly. Joon's erection grew even harder, straining against his underwear.

"Good boy," Joon growled, pulling Eric up and turning him around, pressing him against a nearby table. With quick, practiced movements, Joon removed Eric's pants, exposing his ass. Without hesitation, he began to fuck Eric from behind, thrusting with raw, powerful strokes.

Suddenly, Eric's phone rang. He reached for it, but Joon grabbed it first, smirking. "Better keep this call professional," Joon growled, putting the phone on loudspeaker.

"Hello?" the voice of Eric's boss came through the speaker. "How's the shoot going?"

Joon continued to thrust, unbothered by the call. "It’s going great," Eric managed to say, his voice strained as he tried to sound normal. Joon grinned, relishing the situation.

"Yeah, everything’s on schedule," Joon chimed in casually, giving no indication of what was really happening. He thrust harder, making Eric stifle a moan.

"Glad to hear it," the boss said. "Make sure to get plenty of shots of Joon’s physique. We want this to be our best issue yet."

"Of course, sir," Eric replied, his voice shaking slightly. Joon laughed softly, his thrusts never slowing.

"We’re getting some amazing shots, aren’t we?" Joon said, squeezing Eric's hips. "Y-yes," Eric stammered, desperately trying to maintain his composure.

The call finally ended, and the phone clicked off. Joon immediately grabbed Eric’s hair, pulling his head back. "Now, where were we?" he growled, pulling out and shoving his dick into Eric’s mouth. "Eat up, boy. A skinny guy like you needs protein if you wanna be a big boy like me."

Eric gagged slightly but began to suck eagerly, his hands gripping Joon’s thighs. Joon fucked his mouth with powerful thrusts, feeling his climax building. "Yeah, take it all," he groaned, his muscles flexing.

With a final thrust, Joon came, filling Eric’s mouth with his cum. Eric swallowed desperately, his belly swelling with the sheer volume. Joon continued thrusting, milking every drop.

Finally, both of them reached their peak. Eric, overwhelmed, collapsed on the floor, his belly distended from the cum he’d consumed. Joon looked down, a satisfied grin on his face.

"Look at you, all bloated and full," he said, caressing Eric’s swollen belly. "That’s what a real meal looks like."

Fatso, still in control of Joon’s body, reveled in the moment. He flexed his muscles one last time, admiring the scene. "This body is going to have so much fun," he murmured, his hand resting on the passed-out Eric's cum-filled belly.

[mcnasty0200]

Homophobic gym teacher

I hate PE. I hate it so freaking much that I’d rather have history with Mr. Douglas every day than to run in front of Mr. Mills every day. He hates me, ever since I came out as gay at school I received mostly good feedback from others. Even my bullies were kinda nice about it. Thank God I live in the twenty first century. But one person didn’t really take It well.

I browsed through his instagram a few times. And while I looked for the perfect photo of him flexing his biceps, showing his abs or anything that would help me for my jerk off session, I found out that he was quite hardcore republican. How a person like this could get into education is beyond me.

As always I finished jerking off while looking at his regular bathroom gym photo. Man, what I would give to fuck him. Why do jerks always have the perfect body?

My phone buzzed. I snapped back into reality. Jack, my friend who is also gay, but not out yet, texted me.

“Hey, are we gonna ditch school tomorrow? I can’t hear any more of that Mills bullshit while we climb the rope”

“We’re gonna be rope climbing? Ah fuck me. He’s gonna be insufferable.”

“My thoughts exactly. So? Are we skipping school?”

“I can’t man. I gotta keep up my attendance after missing so many days thanks to Mr. Mills”

Next day, 2:29 PM

I stood next to the rope, waiting for Jake to finish his turn. Mr. Mills stood below him, screaming. Jake couldn’t get to the top. Mr. Mills told him to get down and screamed at him some more. What an asshole. It was my turn. The bell rang. “Fuck yeah. No more rope climbing for me.” My classmates, me included, turned to head to the lockers.

Mr. Mills: ”González? Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

Me: ”Sir, the class is over and it’s Friday.”

Mr. Mills: ”The class is over when I say it is over. Get on the fucking rope and stop talking back at me. The rest of you can leave.”

I got close to the rope. I grabbed it and squeezed the rope between my feet. I started pulling myself up and immediately felt the pain of lifting myself. I knew I was weak, I didn’t really need some wannabe teacher slash gym freak to remind me and scream at me what a lazy piece of shit I am. I tried to ignore him. I gave myself a goal to just finish it and leave, but Mr. Mills stood directly below me to comment on my fat ass slowing me down.

I was almost at the top, a wave of happiness swept over me. “Shit, I’m gonna make it!”

And right then I slipped. And instead of locking my feet, I just let go off the rope.

THUD

“I survived. Fuck. I fell from the freaking rope. My head was hurting so hard. My head? But I thought that I fell on my back? Ahhh the pain.”

I opened my eyes. My vision was blurry from the fall. I tried blinking several times and my vision was slowly getting better. I lifted my arm to grab on my head, but as I did it didn’t feel right. I looked at my arm. It was bigger. As in full of muscles.

“What the hell?” I said out loud, but instead of my young squeaky almost too feminine voice a low baritone came out of my throat.

“How the fuck…?!” I looked to my left. There was my body getting up from the ground

Me: ”Mr. Mills?”

Mr. Mills: ”Ah you gotta be fucking kidding me?! Is that you González?”

Me: ”I… Yes. How… How did this happen?” Mr. Mills: ”Does it look like this happens to me a lot?”

Me: ”But… it’s scientifically impossible”

Mr. Mills: ”I bet this was caused by those covid vaccines to make you immigrant fags take over our lives.”

Me: ”Yeah… right. Cause everyone wants to be a stupid republican”

Mr. Mills: ”Shut your mouth or…” he was interrupted by the janitor telling us to leave so he can lock the school. Mr. Mills gave me his car keys and I gave him instructions how to find my locker. We decided to meet each other in his car and to figure out what to do after that.”

After many unsuccessful attempts I found his Chevrolet and entered the passenger’s seat. Few moments later, I realized that I’m gonna be the one driving so I switched seats and got behind the wheel for the first time in my life. His car was amazing, it smelt great and was clean. How should I even drive this thing? I don’t drive a car. I’ll get us into trouble.

I stopped overthinking about the car. “I am in my teachers body. The one who bullied me almost every day. I am an adult male.” I looked into the rearview mirror. “Fuck, I am in one of the hottest man’s body around. And I am wasting it just worrying here. I flexed and squeezed my new biceps. Fuuuck. It’s so huge. I checked if no one else was around and lifted up my shirt.

“Oh my gooood” I slammed my head into the seat. “This is so hot!”

My new abs and pecs now uncovered were the most perfect ones I have ever seen. The ones I jerk off to every night before sleep. And now it’s here. All for me.

I opened my eyes and saw Mr. Mills in my body approaching the car. And behind him ran Jake. They entered the car.

I tried to improvise: „Why is your friend here?”

Jake: „Holy shit. So it is true. Mr. Mills would never react so calm. Is that really you in there, Daniel?”

I turned at Mr. Mills who now had a very irritated face. “I didn’t say anything, he figured it out.”

Jake: „I didn’t believe it at first, but Daniel never swears like this. And your vocabulary isn’t exactly rich so I knew really quickly where I heard the phrases before. Damn, I’m good. So? What are we gonna do? We should test it out somehow. Shit, Daniel you should get drunk tonight!”

Mr. Mills: „No! There won’t be no drinking, touching or anything with my body. This is definitely temporary and we will be back by tomorrow morning.”

Me: „If you think so…”

I drove Jake and my body home. Mr. Mills had to give me a speed course of driving, but his muscle memory helped me out way more than I thought. We set up some ground rules. No drinking, no drugs, no permanent changes to our bodies, no photos and no sex. He left the car while saying something about a fag in his body, but I couldn’t care less anymore. I speeded to get to his house asap.

I didn’t really explore the house as much when I arrived. I went straight to where I thought was the bedroom and immediately started taking off my clothes. His black speedo was PACKING and getting tighter every minute, but I really wanted to make this first exploration as perfect as possible. I lifted up the shirt, touching my new hairless and fatless stomach. I flexed and sets of abs appeared. I touched every last one of them. My hand continued up to my new large pecs.

“God damn, Mr. Mills. These are some perfect man titties.” I squeezed them. They looked so tight in all the photos, but when I wasn’t flexing them, they were quite soft. Must be amazing to lay on these. I played with them some more before taking off my shirt and releasing my new hairy pits. I took a long whiff off them. “I smell like a proper MAN now!” I licked it as well, enjoying the salty taste of Mr. Mills’s pits. I looked at myself in the mirror. My new dick was hard as a rock and waited for me to take care of it.

I headed to the shower and turned on a hot water. “Your body is probably not used to a hot water, am I right, Mr. Mills? I bet you are one of those cold water freaks who bathe in the icy waters.” I hated his voice before, but right now as I was controlling it, I began to like it so much.

The water poured all over my large body, from the perfect face, over my massive pecs, hairless abs and right to my beautiful dick. “Nice dick, Mr. Mills!” I said and chuckled over the fact that I just said that.

I suddenly got a mischievous idea. I came out of the shower and texted Jake.

Jake: „I can’t believe I’m doing this. I am just squeezing Mr. Mills’s pecs and touching his abs. Can you believe it, Daniel?”

Me: „It’s wild, right? But I got an idea. Wanna make it more interesting?”

Jake: „Interesting how?”

Me: „Stop touching me you lazy fag” I said in an authoritative voice and Jake moved his hands away from me quickly.

Jake: „Why did you do that? I got scared.”

Me: „I bet you are scared, you little fag. I know you just came over so that you could jerk off you little dick and watch me enjoy myself.”

Jake: „Daniel?”

Me: „Daniel won’t save you right now. You will do as I say. Ok?”

Jake finally caught up to my roleplay scenario and started acting as well. And by the look of his face I knew that he was really into it.

Jake: „Yes, Mr. Mills. I will do whatever you say.”

I sat down on the couch watching. “I want you to admire my body and say how hot I am and how horny it makes you.”

Jake got his hands on MY body and got a bit nervous: „You have sexy abs, Mr. Mills.”

Me: „You think that’s enough? That they are just sexy?”

Jake: „I think they’re the hottest abs I have ever seen”

Me: „How about my biceps. You like them?”

Jake: „They are SO big. I want you to squeeze my head in them. I want to lick your armpit hair. I want to kiss you.”

Me: „That’s a good boy. How about you show me how good you are, you fag?”

I moved his hands over to my new hard crotch.

Jake smiled and licked his lips

I fucking love being in this body.

And I bet Jake’s ass is gonna love this body even more.

[mcnasty0200]

The Janitor: Fernandez's body

I work as a Janitor at a gym, but that's not my real job, I just use the job as a Janitor to get easier acess to the prime meat, and by prime meat, I mean hot muscular men. There's no better place to harvest them than at the gym's locker room.

It's been a while since I've found a perfect specimen like Fernandez. He's tall, broad-shouldered, and he has a nice package.

I've been watching Fernandez for a while now. He's always here, every day at the same time. I've studied his habits, his working out routine. I know when he showers, when he changes. And today, I've decided it would be the day I turn him into my next wearable bodysuit.

I watched him walk to the locker room, his body covered in sweat. I followed him and as soon as I entered, I saw him taking his clothes off, he was ready to take a shower. I smirked and quickly put a sign outside the door, written "Do not enter: Men's locker room closed for cleaning"

I took a small technological gun device out of my cart and pointed it at Fernandez. However, I soon realized that I had forgotten to reconfigure the device since the last time I used it. Before I could fix it, Fernandez noticed me.

"Hey, what the fuck are you doing?" He shouted, walking towards me, and before I could activate the device, he quickly punching me in the face, making the device fall off my hand. He continued kicking me and calling me names. But I managed to reach for the device and pulled the trigger, this time hitting him with an orange glowing ray, making the man fall to the floor and start to deflate the second he was hit.

I was a little angry at him for the bruises, so I stomped on his face and abs to empty him faster. As the process finished, I took a step back, admiring my handiwork. Fernandez's body has been reduced to a sleek, form-fitting bodysuit, his every curve and muscle preserved. I couldn't help but feel a surge of power and desire course through me as I reached out and touched the bodysuit, running my fingers over the defined abs pecs for the first time.

That's when I noticed a tiny orange slime crawling out of his mouth.

I smirked and grabbed the tiny goop between my fingers, if you looked closely you would see it moved very slowly like a slug. I usually flush them down the toilet, but I would need this one, so I put it on the floor as I knew it wouldn't go anywhere. I then grabbed the deflated skin from the floor and walked inside a shower stall — Just for precaution.

After I took off my uniform, I grabbed the empty muscle husk by the head and admired his body, specially his big package that even without anything stuffing it inside it was still huge.

With a satisfied grin, I slip the bodysuit on, for last, when I put his head over mine, I looked in the mirror. But it didn't looked natural, I just wasn't as fit as Fernandez, I didn't had big muscles to fill his skin. Some parts looked too stretched like my belly and face, and my dick only stuffed half of his huge shaft.

But this could be fixed. I grabbed the device, changed the settings and shoot the ray at myself — This time a blue glowing ray fired from the device.

I felt a tingling sensation as I watched in the mirror my big belly starting to disappear and instead form abs and big pecs. The skin that was once stretched, now started to grow muscles to the sizes that they were originally. I was looking just like when Fernandez entered the showers.

I changed the settings of the gun one last time and pointed it at the tiny goop on the floor. Once I fired the blue ray at it, the goo started to grow and started to shape itself into a human body: My original body.

It looked exactly like me. And it just kept standing there, looking at me with a blank face.

"Put on the janitor's uniform and clean the locker room, then go home and stay inactive until the next day, when you will return to work." I commanded.

"Yes Master" My copy responded with a blank face expression, it was actually the essence of the real Fernandez, only now he was turned into a mindless slave goo that could take any form that I wanted. He would cover as me while I was out having fun in Fernandez's body.

"But before, I want you to turn into a red underwear"

"Yes Master" The 'janitor' said and started to shrink and change its color, until it was nothing more than a red underwear on the floor. I grabbed it and put it on. It looked really good on me, so with Fernandez's phone I took a photo in the mirror.

I decided to put his sweaty gym clothes back on and return to the main gym. It was really hot to work out my new muscles while wearing the real Fernandez.

[mcnasty0200]

https://www.tumblr.com/growthhyp/772290645188657152/imagine-you-are-at-a-garage-sale-when-a-tall

I’ve always been a slightly beefy, very hairy white guy who’s longed to be stronger, a pillar of reliability and stability for all of those around me. I’ve also had a fascination for men of other races, especially black men. I wonder what kind of clothes he could be offering me…

Surprise Me!

You've always had a thing for muscular guys, especially those of different races. There was just something about the contrast that made you feel… safe. Like a bear craving to be the biggest in the forest. You weren't exactly small, but you've always felt like you could be more. More solid, more powerful, more… everything. You were a white guy with a decent build, a bit of a furry teddy bear with a gentle heart, but you had dreams of being a tower of strength, a man that could handle any situation without breaking a sweat. And there was something about black guys that just… did it for you. The way their muscles rippled under their dark skin, the way they held themselves with confidence and grace. It was like watching a sculpture come to life, all power and beauty wrapped in one.

So when you saw the garage sale with the sign saying 'MEN'S CLOTHING' and the muscular man standing outside, you couldn't resist. His biceps bulged under a tight blue tank top and his smile was as warm as the sun on a hot summer's day. He had a head of brown hair that looked like it had been kissed by the gods. He was everything you weren't and everything you wanted to be.

As you approached him, you felt a strange pull, like the universe was nudging you closer to your destiny. "What would you like to purchase today?" the muscular man asked, his voice as deep as a bass drum. You took a moment, scanning the racks of clothes, and then it hit you. "Surprise me," you said with a smirk, handing over the reins to fate.

The muscular man's smile grew wider, a glint in his eye as he handed you a pair of sleek, black sunglasses. "Ah, a man of mystery," he said. "Take these to the dressing room, and I'll find you something that suits your… desires." He winked, and you couldn't help but feel a little thrill run up your spine. You took the sunglasses and made your way to the back of the garage, where a small changing area had been set up.

Once inside the cramped space, you slipped on the sunglasses. The world around you grew fuzzy for a second, and then the heat hit. It was like someone had turned up the thermostat to a hundred degrees, and you were the only one who could feel it. You gasped as the warmth spread through your body, starting at your core and radiating out to your limbs. Your blue t-shirt, which had once hugged your slightly beefy frame, grew soggy and loose as your fat cells liquefied beneath the intense energy. You could feel your body shrinking, the extra pounds melting away like butter in a pan.

You glanced into the mirror, expecting to see the beginnings of a new you. But instead, you were met with the unexpected sight of a police hat perched atop your head. Confusion swirled in your mind like a tornado as you tried to piece together what was happening. The hat looked like it had been plucked straight from the head of a SWAT team member, complete with the shiny badge and the stern expression you've always associated with authority.

Your body followed suit, moving as if controlled by an unseen force. You found yourself standing at attention, legs apart, arms at your sides, and your chest puffed out. It was a stance you had seen countless times in movies and on TV, but never thought you would adopt so naturally. Your thoughts were jumbled, but there was something oddly satisfying about the way your muscles responded to the unspoken command.

The mirror reflected a transformation that seemed to be happening in slow motion. Your lats spread out like wings, pushing your arms slightly away from your body, creating an illusion of an ever-widening back. The fabric of your blue t-shirt strained against the newfound bulk of your shoulders, the seams groaning as your deltoids ballooned into boulders. The sunglasses sat on your nose, the only piece of your former self that remained unchanged.

As you stared in disbelief, your biceps peaked, the veins in your arms standing out like highways on a map, tracing the path of your newfound power. Your triceps took on a horseshoe shape, a testament to the strength you hadn't realized you possessed. Your forearms grew, thick cables of muscle now visible beneath your skin. The grunts grew louder as your abs swelled, each one popping into existence with a ferocity that left you panting. The tightness of your shirt grew more pronounced, the fabric clinging to your body like a second skin.

Then your legs began to change. Your calves swelled, each muscle group defined and gleaming with the promise of speed and power. Your thighs grew thick as tree trunks, the muscles flexing and pulsing with every beat of your heart. You could feel your feet stretching, the leather of your shoes straining against the new size of your enhanced physique. The seams of your jeans gave way with a dramatic rip, the fabric tearing as your legs grew and grew.

And with the growth came an unexpected sensation. Your cock, already half-hard from the thrill of the transformation, began to swell to unprecedented proportions. It was as if every muscle fiber in your body was being redirected to that one spot, the epicenter of your newfound masculine power. The bulge in your black boxer briefs grew obscene, threatening to burst the fabric. You could feel the pressure building, the need to release the energy coursing through you becoming almost unbearable.

As your muscles reached their peak, your body took over, and you felt a wave of pleasure so intense that it almost knocked you off your feet. You grunted and moaned, your legs shaking slightly as you shot out ropes of cum, each one feeling like it was carrying away the last remnants of your former self. Your mind was a blank slate, erased of all doubt and fear.

In its place grew a new identity, that of a black child with a burning desire to be strong, to protect those he loved. Memories flooded in, not your own, but ones that felt as if they had always been there. You recalled the endless push-ups and sit-ups you'd done in your youth, the hours spent in the sun running and lifting, pushing your body to its limits to be the pillar of strength you knew you could be. Your heart swelled with the love for your siblings, a fierce need to keep them safe.

Your skin, once pale with the warmth of a summer's day, began to deepen, the color of rich mahogany, as the essence of your new identity took root. You felt your body shift, your features morphing into those of a young black man, strong and proud. Your cheekbones grew more pronounced, your jawline sharper, and your hair grew coarser and curlier, framing your new face. The sunglasses slid down your nose slightly, the bridge feeling tighter as your nose narrowed.

You took the police pants from the muscular man's outstretched hand, still in a trance. The fabric was cool and firm, a stark contrast to the heat emanating from your body. You stepped into them, and as you pulled them up, the waistband cinched around your now thickened hips, the material stretching to accommodate your new size. The legs were long, but not too long, as if they had been tailored for you, a perfect fit for the tree trunks that had once been your legs. The pants had a crisp crease down the center, and the heavy-duty belt looped around your waist, feeling snug and secure.

As you put on the pants, more images of your new life as a black child flooded your mind. You saw yourself studying hard, pushing through the challenges of school, all while maintaining a rigorous workout routine. You saw yourself growing taller, stronger, and more focused with every page you turned and every dumbbell you lifted. You felt the pride of graduating senior high, the satisfaction of a job well done, and the excitement of a future filled with purpose and strength.

Then the muscular man handed you the police polo shirt. It was still a bit baggy, but it didn't matter. As soon as it touched your skin, your body responded, growing to fill out the uniform perfectly. Your chest bulged obscenely, your shoulders widened into boulders, and your biceps and triceps grew to ludicrous proportions. Your forearms looked like they could crush rocks, and your legs thickened into tree trunks. The fabric of the shirt stretched taut against your new physique, showcasing every ridge and contour of your muscles.

Still in a trance, you stared into the mirror, watching the transformation complete itself. The polo shirt now hugged your torso like a second skin, highlighting your newfound power. You flexed, the fabric straining to contain the might of your body. The hat sat atop your head like a crown, the sunglasses hiding the awe in your eyes. You had become a vision of authority, a beacon of protection.

You stepped out of the dressing room with the confidence of a lion. The muscular man's gaze met yours, his smile growing even more as he took in your new form. "Looks good on you, officer," he said, his voice now holding a hint of respect. You felt a thrill at the sound of the word 'officer' and the way he said it, like you had already earned the title.

The black shoes he held out to you were like the final piece of a puzzle, completing the picture of the man you had become. You took them with a nod, feeling the weight of your new identity in your hands. You sat down and slipped them on, the leather feeling cool and sturdy around your growing feet. They were surprisingly comfortable, almost as if they had molded themselves to your new size.

As you stood up, the mirror in front of you reflected a man ready to take on the world. The hat, the shirt, the pants, and the shoes all fit perfectly, as if they had been made just for you. You couldn't help but flex, watching the muscles ripple and dance under the tight fabric. You felt like a superhero, ready to leap into action at the first sign of trouble.

"Thanks, how much?" you asked, your voice deeper, more commanding than it had ever been before.

The muscular man's grin grew even wider. "It'll be 15 dollars," he replied, holding out his hand expectantly.

You didn't even hesitate. You pulled out your wallet and counted out the bills, feeling the crispness of the paper under your thickening fingers. You had never felt more alive, more in control of your destiny. You handed him the money, your heart racing with excitement. "Thanks," you said, the word feeling strange in your new, deeper voice. The muscular man took the cash with a nod, his eyes never leaving yours.

As you left the garage sale, you couldn't help but feel like you were floating on air. The world looked different now, more vivid, more… alive. You felt like you could tackle any challenge that came your way. The police academy was just the beginning. You knew you'd breeze through it, with the knowledge and strength that now coursed through your veins. You had always dreamed of being a cop, of being that beacon of safety in the night. And now, that dream was within your grasp.