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misctf · 3 days

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The Bear Brew

Jake was the star player of his university’s hockey team, and with two successful championships under his belt he was captain for this next season. He’d practically been raised for this position. His parents had put him in hockey lessons as soon as he could stand up, and every moment through his childhood and teenage years had been dedicated to practice. He was the star player at his high school and given a scholarship to play on the university team. He’d been told not to let all that go to his head but he knew he was the best player on the team. Every match there would be throngs of fans in the stands chanting his name after every goal, wearing shirts with his face on them, and begging for pics with him after. His life couldn’t get any better.

His teammates, however, were over it. They’d made him captain just to shut him up after he’d been talking their ears off for the past three years. It helped that issue but only inflated his ego even more. Jake had somehow gotten even more obnoxious this season, becoming combative during practice and not taking any criticism about his play. The guys were sick of it, and while Jake was off stroking his ego by chatting with his fans, they hatched up a plan to get back at him. They’d found this beer called ‘Bear Brew’ that promised to put some pounds on anyone that drank a can. They knew Jake would never turn down grabbing a drink to celebrate a victory, thinking himself the one responsible. They weren’t sure exactly how effective it’d be or how long it’d take but they just hoped it would take Jake down a peg.

Two days later, after another decisive victory, it was time. Another player named Eric interrupted Jake’s victory lap.

“Hey bro, wanna grab a beer with us and celebrate?” He asked.

“Finally ready to celebrate my accomplishments, huh?” Jake retorted, “Sure dude, I’m down for a couple rounds, you’re buying though.”

“Deal,” Eric said through gritted teeth. He knew it would be worth it to see this through. They both returned to the rest of the team.

“I heard you chumps are buying me a beer tonight,” Jake laughed as the others wore forced grins. “Let’s hit the bar bros, I’m thirsty.”

On their way to the nearest sports bar, one of the players slipped Eric the Bear Brew so he could give it to Jake. He hoped Jake wouldn’y pay too much attention to the label or read the fine print, but Jake already wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed so it’d probably be fine. They entered a local sports bar that had a decent crowd.

“Alright Eric, first rounds on you bro!” Jake announced as he slumped back into a booth along the wall. Eric glared as he made his way to the counter, the rest of the players trying to seem normal and hide their excitement. He brought back a whole armful of cans, passing out beers to the team, making sure to hand Jake the Bear Brew. “Alright boys!” Jake announced to the group, “To victory and my next championship title, you better back me up!” He took a huge sip of the beer. “Damn this shit tastes kinda weird, the fuck did you get me Eric?” He laughed before taking another sip.

Eric chuckled nervously, “Just thought I’d get you somethin’ premium bro.”

“Damn straight you did, I like that kinda talk,” Jake responded, luckily not putting any more thought into the matter. He kept on sipping at the beer, making obnoxious jokes and trying to hit on the waitresses walking around. He felt more buzzed than usual from one beer, and noticed an odd feeling in his stomach. He ignored that for the moment, yelling at the team, “Another round bros! Gotta treat me right tonight.”

Luckily, the team had planned for this and brought extra beers for Jake in case he asked for more. Another player went up and ordered beers for the team, brought them back and handed Jake the Bear Brew again. Jake started chugging the second beer, and he was really starting to feel odd. He was almost feeling drunk from just two beers, and his stomach was queasy in a way he’d never felt before. He took a couple minutes to just lay back against the seat and close his eyes to give it time to settle. But settle it did not, and the feeling eventually became uncomfortable to the point he couldn’t ignore it. He put his hands on his stomach to try and comfort it, but immediately he felt something very, very wrong.

Jake opened his eyes and looked down at his stomach. He nearly gagged at what he saw. Instead of his chiseled abs he now had a pudgy stomach, and it only seemed to be getting bigger. His defined muscles were disappearing behind a thick layer of chub. He was speechless, watching his defined pecs inflating with fat. It looked like he’d been binging beers for years! His perfect workout routine was vanishing before his eyes as his entire body gained 5, 10, 20 pounds. A round belly now stretched his shirt to its limit, with sagging tits to match. It looked as if he’d been dirty bulking for years on end, and Jake was mortified. He glanced around at his teammates hoping no one had noticed his inflating body, feeling his face as a double chin began to form under his formerly tight jawline. He was panicking, trying to keep cool and maintain his cocky bravado while hiding his growing gut.

He could feel every part of his body growing plump and soft, threatening to burst out of his tight clothing. His feet were pushing against his shoes, and even his hands were growing larger. Jake felt sick to his stomach, and without attracting attention he got up and made his way to the dingy restroom in the back of the bar. Out of breath, he put his hands on the counter and stared at his bloated reflection in the mirror. He could barely recognize himself, having put on years worth of weight in the last few minutes. As he watched himself, he noticed some dark spots appearing on his face. Upon leaning towards the mirror, he realized with horror that thick, brown hairs were starting to poke out of his face. They popped up around the sagging edge of his jaw, and began spreading across his puffy cheeks. His upper lip was quickly buried beneath a thick, unkempt mustache as the hairs took over. They crawled down his fat-laden neck as well, reaching down towards his collarbone. His mouth dropped open as his face was in an instant coated in thick wiry hairs. There was no way he could go back out to his team now, what would they say? He barely looked like his old self anymore.

Jake reached up to feel his newly grown beard, the coarse hairs scratching against his fingers. He tried to come up with a plan, but the several beers had dulled his mind down. Those thoughts were cut short as a sudden itch arose on his chest. Jake started to scratch at it, clawing at his chest before he felt something that filled him with horror. He felt stubble. He tore off his shirt and looked down to see more hairs pushing out of his soft chest, starting between his former pecs and blossoming outward. They grew dense and thick, giving his chest a respectable coating as it stretched out, encircling his nipples. The hairs climbed up his collarbone, connecting with the beard hairs that had claimed his neck already. A line of hairs shot down from his chest to his navel, spreading a new field of hairs on his stomach. His torso itched up a storm as a thick pelt was growing in, but Jake felt a mixture of horror and pleasure as the sensation felt unnaturally good. He groaned watching the hairs grow longer on his chest, curling and tangling with the others.

As he reached up to feel the growing hairs, Jake saw a flash of dark under his arm, somewhere he had kept shaved before. He lifted his arm up and saw thick brown hairs worming their way out from the previously smooth skin. At first it was just a few but as he watched the tuft grew thicker and bushier as the hairs multiplied. The hairs even spread out to connect with the rug on his chest, completely visible even with his arms at his sides. A few seconds later the smell hit him. Those hairy pits reeked! It was eye watering, and he could see the sweat dripping down the wiry hairs as they kept growing longer. The hairs began crawling outside of his pits, wrapping around his shoulders to blanket them in the same thick fur. He looked like he was wearing a hairy shirt, barely able to see the skin under the growing hairs. His new fur continued to spread, as Jake felt the itching engulf his back. He turned in the mirror to glimpse the hairs popping up across his shoulder blades, making their way towards the middle where they met and grew into a thick fur. That fur sprouted down his spine, completing his coat. Above his ass it had grown in particularly thick, suggesting more to come soon. His arms were next, hairs sprouting down his thick biceps, and burying his forearms in a rug of dark hairs. The backs of his large hands were also coated, thick hairs popping up even on his knuckles.

Despite feeling horrified at what he was becoming, Jake was overwhelmed by immense pleasure from the changes. Every hair that sprouted produced a euphoria like nothing he’d experienced before. He could feel the follicles pushing through the skin as they covered him in luscious brown fur. Something was distracting him from that sensation though, and it was in his crotch. A burning and stretching feeling was occurring down there, and though his heart sank, Jake pulled down his waistband to peek. His previously trimmed bush was pushing out, dark hairs erupting from his groin as they spread like wildfire. The hairs sprouted and grew thicker and curlier as they multiplied, traveling from the base of his cock all the way up and merging into his thick stomach hair. The bush spread outwards onto his thighs, and he felt his balls expanding as they began to hang lower. They too were buried beneath the fur that was taking over his groin, with thick wiry hairs growing all over his enlarging balls. Jake moaned in ecstasy as his pubes kept sprouting, growing longer and bushier. It felt wrong and disgusting but his body was overtaken by hormones and endorphins, the sensation of pleasure was undeniable.

The hairs continued taking over his smooth skin, traveling from his bush down his large thighs, popping up and growing dark and curly. They coated his legs, growing dense enough to darken the shade of his skin as hair sprouted all over his thighs and calves, before reaching his feet. Jake pulled off his shoes that were ripping at the seams, exposing his now size 15 feet. He watched as hairs wormed their way out across the tops of his feet, even sprouting on his toes. His entire body was now coated in thick brown hair, and Jake rubbed his hands through the newly grown fur as he moaned from the sensation.

His moment of pleasure was cut short by someone banging on the bathroom door.

“Hey Jake, you all good in there bro?” It was Eric, eager to see if their plan had worked.

“Uhh,” Jake hesitated, brought back to reality in a flash. “Yea dude, just a little sick to my stomach it’s no big deal, I’ll be out in a sec,” he replied with a shakiness in his voice. He looked at himself in the mirror. What would the rest of the team think? He looked about ten years older and fifty pounds heavier, not to mention the hairy mess he was now. He was unrecognizable as his past self, not to mention that his clothes didn’t even fit anymore. He struggled to put his shirt back on, leaving his hairy belly exposed, before cramming his huge feet back into his shoes. He took a deep breath, and then unlocked the door and walked back out into the bar.

His teammates had gathered around the door, waiting to see what had become of Jake. They gasped in unison as he opened the door, quickly changing to a howling laughter.

“BROOOO WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?”

“No way it actually worked! I can’t believe this”

“JAKE YOU’RE SO FAT AND HAIRY”

“GET OWNED DUDE”

“That Bear Brew really did a number on you man!”

Jake was taken aback, his transformation had been potted by his teammates! He was stunned into silence, standing there with his half-fitting shirt on as he was laughed at voraciously. Slowly the laughter cooled, and Eric came up and slapped him on the back.

“See you at practice tomorrow dude,” he said with a chuckle.

The rest of the team left Jake and headed out of the bar. He stood there grappling with the reality of his life now, how was he going to go back to everything like this? In the face of overwhelming stress, he decided to put it out of his mind for just a little while. He walked back to his table, picked up another can of beer, and sat down. His life was a problem for tomorrow.

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misctf · 3 days

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misctf · 4 days

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The Bro Cap

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Later, Moore.”

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

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

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

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

“Practice?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What hat?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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misctf · 6 days

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No Need to Apply

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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misctf · 8 days

Text

A Surprise Gift

“Are you fucking for real dude?” Jim slammed the door to their apartment and stumbled toward the couch, “I was this close.” He sat down and stared daggers at his roommate.

“She wasn’t interested bro.” Eric replied, “You were acting like a fucking creep.” Jim muttered a few curse words under his breath, “Sober up.” He tossed him a water bottle.

“Fucking cock blocker.” Jim whined before chugging the water, “She would’ve been lucky to...”

“You say that about everyone. Its gross man.” Eric sighed, “Look, I’m going to bed. You should too. And clean up the kitchen tomorrow. I’m tired of all the dishes in the sink.” Jim shot him another dirty look and stumbled to his bed.

“Fucking asshole.” Eric mumbled, hoping to forget this stupid night out.

_______

The next morning, Eric stumbled out of his room in just a pair of gray boxers. It was Sunday and he had a few things he needed to get done- mainly study for an upcoming exam and exercise. And of course, Jim was up playing videogames.

“Did you start on the dishes?” Jim glared at Eric, and before they could continue bickering, someone knocked on their door.

Jim mumbled something about it being too early, as Eric walked over and opened the door. Sitting in front of the door was a white box, addressed to Jim.

“Hey Jim, you got something.” Eric said, placing the box on the counter, “Any idea what it might be?”

Jim smirked, “Probably from one of my admirers.” He chucked, walking over and tearing open the box, “See dude, this is what happens when you... what the fuck?”

Eric couldn’t help but laugh at the contents of the box. Whoever left it had a sense of humor. There were several dick shaped lollipops, all of various sizes and colors. Jim looked mortified as he inspected them.

“Was this you dude?”

“Wasn’t me.” Eric replied, walking over and inspecting the contents, “Maybe someone’s trying to tell you something. You gonna try one?”

“No fucking way man.” Jim grimaced in disgust, “This mouth doesn’t suck dick. I’m throwing this shit out.”

Eric chuckled, “I’m not that insecure about my sexuality.” He said with a grin, plopping one of the lollipops in his mouth, “Besides, don’t you like doing it with guys too?”

Jim smirked, “I get sucked or I fuck. Not the other way around. I’m not some hole.”

Eric wanted to call Jim an asshole, but was at a loss for words. The flavor of the lollipop was intense, coating his mouth with an intoxicating sweetness. He began sucking vigorously on the lollipop, earning him a look from Jim.

“Yo dude, you enjoying that?” Jim chuckled.

Eric’s eyes widened, “Damn,” He chucked in embarrassment, “It’s pretty good.” He looked at the time though and sighed, “Shit I need to get ready. Finish those dishes, okay?”

But the rest of the day just didn’t feel right to Eric. Likely from the booze he told himself. His workout was shitty and even studying felt useless. Material he mastered was almost as confusing as when he first started. Feeling defeated, he headed back to his apartment.

“Hey man, what’s up?” Jim asked, his eyes never leaving the TV.

“Not much, just feeling off.” Eric replied, absent mindedly grabbing another lollipop and sucking on it, “Just gonna get ready for bed and start fresh tomorrow.” He stumbled to his room, collapsing onto his bed and drifting to sleep.

_______

The next morning brought no relief. In fact, Eric felt worse. As he stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, he noticed things were off. Maybe it was the lighter color of his hair, or the fact that his triceps and biceps looked less swole. Same with his pecs and legs for that matter. He poked at his pec and grimaced. It felt less firm, almost as if the muscle behind them was breaking down.

“I just need to work out.” He mumbled.

He threw on a pair of his shorts and a t-shirt, noticing that they seemed baggy on him compared to their usual tight fit. He probably fucked them up in the laundry. But he was running late- he didn’t have time to worry.

“See yA lAter!” He called out to Jim- his voice cracking, which caused him to turn red with embarrassment.

Jim raised an eyebrow and watched as Eric grabbed another lollipop, “Hey dude, maybe...” But before he could say anything, Eric was gone.

_______

Eric sighed as he returned to the apartment later that day, feeling defeated. He couldn’t focus on the review session his professor was leading. Every time he looked up, he couldn’t help but stare at some of the men in his class. More specifically their muscular arms, sexy smiles, and facial hair. While Eric never seemed to notice those things before, it was all he could focus on during class.

“Hey mAn.” Why the fuck did his voice keep cracking?

Jim looked over at Eric, “Woah dude, you don’t look so good.” He walked over to his roommate. Eric blushed when he noticed Jim wearing nothing but a pair of boxers.

He must’ve just worked out. Eric could smell his musk and couldn’t help but notice how big his arms appeared. The heat from his body was radiating, and without thinking, Eric placed a hand on his roommate’s large pec. It felt so good- so firm in his grasp.

“Woah dude, what the fuck?” Eric’s hand shot to his side. He looked down, deep in thought and trying to make sense of his actions.

Before Jim could speak again, Eric grabbed another lollipop and fled to his room, slamming the door and collapsing onto bed, tears stinging at his eyes.

_______

The following morning, Eric awoke and daintily hopped out of bed and sauntered to the bathroom. He found himself needing to pull up his boxers to prevent them from sliding off his skinny waste. When Eric rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stared in the mirror, he jumped.

“Wh-what the fuck?” He whispered, his voice more high pitched and feminine, “Where’d my pit hair go?” He mumbled raising an arm above his head, “Fuck what happened to my muscles?” Tears threatened to fall from his eyes.

His hard earned muscles- tokens of his masculinity- all seemed to have shrunk down to nothing. His abs that he worked so hard on were gone, replaced by a thin layer of fat. He spent years working to get his body to peak athletic performance. Even a few days of underperformance at the gym shouldn’t have reversed his hard earned gains. He needed to get help... Jim could help him, right? Jim always looked good. So muscular and manly. Eric shook his head and took a few deep breaths.

“I kinda look like the guys Jim brings home” He whispered, a strange pride rising from within him, “I-I need to talk to Jim”, He left to find Jim. But as he did, he noticed the dishes still piled in the sink, “Hmm I should take care of those for Jim. He works so hard.” He thought, deviating from his path and grabbing another lollipop. If he was going to do the dishes, he might as well treat himself.

And when he finally finished, he treated himself to another lollipop. Barely remembering why he wanted to talk, he went to knock on Jim’s door. But the sound coming from the other side stopped him- the unmistakable sound of some porn video. And he could hear his roommate moaning.

With each masculine moan, Eric’s mind was melting. Why was some porno making Jim moan like that? Especially when he could make Jim moan like that? The thought of pleasing Jim... it was intoxicating. And as these thoughts violated his mind, he reached down and massaged his ass. He imagined Jim- his sweaty body, his big muscles, his huge dick- grabbing and slapping his ass And as he teased his asshole, Eric’s eyes began to widen- what the fuck was he thinking?

He scurried back to his room, forgetting that he had an exam today. Instead, he sat there, sucking on another lollipop, and trying to make sense of what was happening to him. All the while, unaware that his ass was starting to fatten up as his dick shrank.

_______

Eric stumbled out of his room a few hours later, hungering for another lollipop. His ass was massive now- nearly spilling out of his tight boxers. At least they weren’t loose anymore. But his gait had shifted too. He would never be able to walk again without showing off his ass with his sexy saunter. No one would ignore it- especially not Jim.

“Dude...” Jim said, looking up from his videogame, “Fuck...”

Eric’s face turned red, “Dude, I don’t...” He tried to find another lollipop but they were gone, “Bro! What happened to all the...?”

“You ate them all.” Jim said, walking over to Eric, “Shit, what happened to you dude?”

But Eric was near tears, “I need those lollipops, please.” He whined, “They’re so good.” And without a second thought, he wrapped his arms around Jim’s muscular torso and sobbed into his pecs.

Jim smirked. Since when was Eric so short? And damn, when did his ass get so fuckable? The jock cupped Eric’s chin and stared deeply into his eyes.

“Eric, I don’t know what happened to you.” He said with a grin, “But if you wanna suck cock so bad, why settle for those stupid lollipops?”

Eric looked up at him with wide eyes, unable to reply. Jim slowly pushed Eric to his knees, never breaking eye contact. And Eric, despite the voice in the back of his head screaming for him to stop, pulled down Jim’s shorts. His roommate’s monster of a cock slapped him in the face.

“Go on.” Jim encouraged, “I think you owe me for all the times you cock blocked me. Right roomie?”

And with that, Eric wrapped his lips around Jim’s thick cock. The sensation was even more intoxicating than the lollipops. It filled his mouth- the saltiness dancing across his taste buds, while the smell of Jim’s manly musk invaded his nostrils. Eric’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as Jim thrust his cock deeper and deeper into his formerly straight roommate’s throat. And with each thrust, Eric’s hair became lighter and lighter- until settling on platinum blond. At the same time, Eric’s mind was breaking down. His interest in sports disintegrated- he would email his coaches that he was quitting the team. His desire to succeed in school was replaced by a need to suck and get fucked- he would drop out of school tomorrow. Any decency or respect he commanded was drowned in a sea of lust- a need for cock. Any cock, anywhere. Eric’s eyes became vacant and glazed over as the remainder of his intelligence, kindness, and ambition disappeared into the void. And when Jim caught the dull, submissive, slutty look in his roommate’s eyes, he came.

_______

It had been a few weeks since then and Eric continued to serve his sexy roommate. Jim would go to practice and classes, while Eric would take care of things around the apartment. And when Jim would return, Eric was happy to provide him with either his mouth or ass. Sure, it was a surprise to when he came out as gay. And an even bigger surprise when he dropped out of college. But Eric hadn’t a care in the world. Just a hole- as Jim called him.

As he spent another day cleaning up after Jim, he heard a knock at the door.

“OMG is Scott here already?” Eric sang. Jim was nice enough to let the other members of the team use Eric when they needed. But Eric was disappointed to find just a letter addressed to him, “Hmm okay then.” He whined, opening it.

His vacant eyes read through the letter. Something about an apology. That those lollipops were meant to teach Jim a lesson for using others as nothing more than holes. That this wasn’t what they wanted. That there could be a way to reverse this. Eric giggled- a voice screaming from within his mind to reverse it. To call the number left on the letter and return him to his prior self. But Eric shrugged and tore the letter- the voice in the back of his head now sobbing.

“Reverse this?” He giggled, “Not a chance.”

#male tf #straight to gay #male transformation #mental change #twink tf #dumber tf

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misctf · 8 days

Note

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

FML: In

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please dude.” I stared at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No magic words or anything?” I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then the door behind you opened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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misctf · 8 days

Text

Drip.

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

Drip

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

Drip.

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

Drip.

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

Drip.

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

Drip.

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

Drip.

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

Drip.

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

Drip.

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

Drip. Drip. Drip….

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

Drip.

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

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

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

Drip.

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

Drip. Drip.

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

Drip.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Drip.

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

He didn't care.

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

Drip.

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

The taste was incredible.

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

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

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

Drip.

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

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

Drip.

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

Drip.

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

Drip.

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

Drip.

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

Drip.

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

Drip.

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

Drip.

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

Drip.

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

Drip.

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

Drip.

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

Drip.

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

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misctf · 8 days

Text

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ready?"

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

"Alright, go ahead." He breathed.

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

"Oh god."

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

"G-gabe.."

"Are you okay babe?"

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

"What is it babe?" Gabe asked.

"Ffffffuck." Will's whole body shook.

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

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

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

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

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

"Will, are you okay?"

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

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

"What do you mean, Will?"

Will's face turned red, his breathing labored.

"It's changing..my cock."

Gabe could feel his own member throbbing in his pants.

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

Will's cock pulsed, stretching out his shorts.

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

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

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

"Oh god."

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

"Oh fuck, my ass." Will cried.

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

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

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

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

"Holy shit."

"I'm so horny, Gabe."

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

"Will." Gabe panted.

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

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

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

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

"Y-yes."

"Say it."

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

Will dropped to his knees.

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

"Please, Will. Please suck my cock."

Will looked up at his boyfriend.

"Call me Nico."

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

"Mmmm."

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

"Oohhhh, yessss."

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

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

"Do it, babe. Cum for me."

"N-nico..."

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

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

Nico stood up, wiping his mouth.

"That was sick, babe."

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

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

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misctf · 9 days

Note

Damn, these stories have got me jealous and inspired. Maybe you can help me like you helped these other guys. I’m a skinny nerd with curly blonde hair stuck in a research job but I’m too lazy to work out and too scared to get a short haircut. Make me a wrestler, a construction worker, a footballer, I don’t care - just save me, please!!

You're sitting in your lab… Looking into the microscope. And you're starting to get bored. I don't know what's bothering you, but you take a microscope slide and spit on it. It's cool how your spit looks. You have an idea. You take your impressive cock out of your pants. And start wanking. And wank all over the next slide. Damn, it's these, these… Whatever the fuck it's called. The shit that makes babies. It doesn't matter. Looks like the tadpoles you used to catch. Hehehe, it was always a test of courage to eat them. Didn't do you any harm either. Then you remember that you're hungry. You take the trolley with the mop and push it towards the cafeteria. You have to take out the garbage anyway.

Even if you're not wearing a T-shirt, you're still sweating in your rubber dungarees. Thank God you've just shaved your hair. Long hair sucks. It gets in the way at work, it gets in the way during sport, it gets in the way during a proper fight in the pub or at the soccer stadium. And those are somehow the three most important things in your life. well, not work actually. But you have to earn money somehow. And unfortunately you're far too stupid to do such a shitty lab job…

The fresh night air is good for you. Outside in the parking lot is a summer party. The nerds and other weaklings are having fun at a kind of company fair. Not your thing. You're about to call it a day. And then it's off to the gym. Start by hitting the punching bag for an hour. And then let's see… You'll have a good time. Actually, you always have fun!

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misctf · 10 days

Text

New Crew

Another busy morning in Austin, Texas, with commuters rushing to get to the office with what little time they have left. Among them is Joseph, a successful salesman, on the usual route to his high-rise office. Joseph prides himself on his degree of sophistication and elegance, dressed in a tailored suit and strolling confidently with his expensive coffee cup in hand, savoring every sip of the meticulously crafted and smooth brew. The breeze dances down the street and weaves in between the buildings, giving Joseph some respite from the heat but also threatening to knock a few hairs out of place.

Along his path, he spots a new construction site. “Probably another hotel,” he thinks to himself. As he approaches the site, the sounds get louder; the sharp strikes of a jackhammer breaking up concrete and men yelling at each in Spanish isn’t exactly what Joseph wants to hear at 8:45 in the morning. Annoyed, he continues walking, noticing the group of laborers hard at work, sweat glistening on their foreheads as they dig and hammer away. Wearing ear protection and on a tight timeline to finish the project, the workers are mostly oblivious to their surroundings and laser focused on the job.

Among the workers is a young Latino construction worker, who happens to be shoveling dirt right alongside the path Joseph is walking. Engrossed in his task, the worker unintentionally swings a shovel full of dirt right in Joseph's direction, and the passing breeze picks up the dirt, smattering Joseph's tailored suit and white button up brown.

Fuming with anger and nearly late for work, Joseph halts abruptly, his eyes narrowing as he confronts the worker responsible. "Hey! Watch where you're aiming that thing!" he snaps, his frustration evident in his tone.

As Joseph reprimands the worker and disregards his apology, he can't help but notice an older burly Latino worker watching him intently from a distance. The man's dark eyes seemed to bore into Joseph's soul, an intensity that unsettles him. Hearing warning bells in his head, Joseph brushes off the dirt as best as he can and tries to continue on his way.

However, the burly worker has other plans. As Joseph approaches, and with a sudden movement, he steps into Joseph's path, blocking his way. "Excuse me," Joseph huffs, attempting to sidestep the man and continue on his way. However, before he can take even another step, the man's hand shoots out and firmly grips Joseph's arm, pulling him back. Joseph tries to shake free, but the worker's grip on his arm is firm, and before he can react, a white hard hat, like the entirety of the construction crew is wearing, is placed forcefully on his head. Confusion and panic washes over Joseph as he staggers back, his vision blurring, and his surroundings spinning like a chaotic whirlwind.

Dizzy and disoriented, Joseph's heart pounds in his chest as he hunches over, trying to steady himself. He can feel something inexplicably changing within him, a sensation he can't comprehend or control.

Though his vision comes in and out of focus, Joseph swears he sees his suit jacket shimmer in the light, there one moment and gone the next. He starts to feel the breeze on his arms, and he can see the white of his button up retracting up his arms, eventually settling into the form of a tank top, the material changing next into a thin, ribbed material rife with splotches of dirt. His creased slacks ripple, transforming into dirty and stiff blue jeans, and his polished dress shoes morph into worn-out work boots, the leather going from delicate to thick and protective.

The breeze he felt earlier as a mere annoyance now feels different, beating against his bare arms as they pack on muscle: His shoulders broaden under the straps of the tank, his once slender frame being sculpted anew. Veins snake down his arms as his biceps and triceps grow in prominence, giving his newly burly arms an enviable sculpted and rounded appearance.

Under the jeans, his legs follow suit. His calves explode with growth, going from their thin and unremarkable lankiness to two solid columns of muscle. At the same time, his thighs pack on muscle. Still hunched over and steadying himself, he feels his quads bulge against his skin, the well-defined muscles able to be seen with every movement of Joseph's legs.

Still planted on his thighs, Joseph's hands, once soft and manicured, roughen and callous from years of manual labor. He can feel his body continue to change, bulking up with newfound strength and stamina. His chest expands, pecs forming two solid mounds of muscle, and his stomach ripples as his abs emerge from under what used to be a slightly overweight physique caused by years of sitting at a desk.

His skin darkens from its pallid shade to a rich bronze, matching that of his new coworkers. His lips plumpen, and his once blue eyes turn a deep, warm brown in a matter of blinks. As his eyes darken, so does his hair, going from chestnut to black and beginning to retract into his head. The tugging sensation continues until Joseph is left with a utilitarian buzzcut, the bristles tickling against the hard hat. The tickling sensation continues as stubble emerges along his newly chiseled jawline. The transformation spread like wildfire, reshaping his very identity, and with it, his thoughts as well. The panicked thoughts rushing through his mind in English suddenly shift to Spanish—his former mother tongue gone in an instant.

As the metamorphosis comes to an end, Joseph straightens up, taking in his new form with a mix of shock and disbelief. He was no longer the lanky and somewhat soft salesman he once was, but a burly and solid Latino construction worker, akin to those who surrounded him.

"Qué me hiciste?" (What did you do to me?) Joseph asks in Spanish, his voice now unfamiliar to his own ears.

The burly worker who had placed the hard hat on his head chuckles heartily and calls over the rest of the crew to greet their new member. As the men approach, Joseph wants to run, to escape this place and this life that seems to be forcing itself on him, but his body doesn't move. As each worker shakes his hand and gave him a warm pat on the back, Joseph feels his old life slipping away, his memories fading like a distant dream. By the final pat on the back, he can only remember his new life as if it had always been his reality.

With the rest of the crew heading back to their tasks, Joseph stands there, his muscular frame seemingly suspended in air, the only movement his massive chest rising and falling. Inside, his mind is working to thread everything together: his life, his family, his job, his name. The burly man returns, shovel in hand. He smacks Joseph on the helmet lightly, snapping the man out of his daze.

"José, el descanso ha terminado, vuelve al trabajo." (José, break's over, back to work)

José.

"Dale," (Okay) José says as he takes the shovel from his boss, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his other hand. He joins his coworker, Miguel, in digging out the foundation near the sidewalk, the stream of commuters finally starting to thin. As he scoops his first shovelful of dirt, he notices a man wearing a nice-looking navy suit and tie approaching. José is careful to toss the dirt low to the ground, avoiding it potentially getting caught by the wind. He nods at the man as he passes, who responds with a soft smile before refocusing on his stride.

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misctf · 10 days

Text

Anything For Extra Credit

Here’s another racial change- Daniel finds out just how far he is willing to change for some bonus points. Next one'll be my 1k Special! -Occam

Daniel was pacing outside the classroom, Dr. Davis said any students who attend this meeting would get extra credit. Daniel immediately tuned out everything else, regardless of what the event was he was sure to pounce at the opportunity. Writing down the room number and time he then went about his day, neglecting to see that it was for the Business school’s Black Student’s organization.

He tries to surreptitiously glance inside to see any familiar faces from his class and does indeed see a few other white students sticking out that he knew from lecture. In this he finds resolve and begins to reach for the door. Before finding purchase however the room is opened from the inside and Daniel finds a large smiling man beckoning him to enter. Clearly one of the leaders of the organization there’s a name tag on his chest reading “Tyrone.”

He thrusts his hand out offering to shake Daniel’s. Still battling anxiety Daniel stumbles over himself to put his hand in Tyrone’s, finding his hand completely engulfed by the man’s. He blushes trying to hide his emasculation as Tyrone’s welcoming smile grows a little wider as if he were delighting in the discomfort before going on to welcome Daniel in. “You must be another student from Professor Davis, yeah? We were just getting started so you haven’t missed too much!”

Tyrone leads him to two empty desks facing each other and motions for Daniel to sit opposite himself. As Daniel looks around to see what exactly everyone else is doing he hears his classmates absolutely rapt in conversation with the club members. Thinking to himself, Dr. Daniel must know what he’s doing. He waves at his friend Jeremy who remains too engrossed to even wave back, glancing at Daniel and nodding before continuing to talk to the man in front of him. Rude, Daniel thinks to himself before noticing there’s something different about Jeremey’s long hair?

He then sits down across from Tyrone seeing an upturned name tag lying in front of him. He reaches for it though before grabbing it Tyrone speaks up, his happy-go-lucky smile briefly being replaced by almost a performative discomfort, “Okay so before you look at that, just so know this was required by the founders of our org. I think it’s real weird.” Daniel then grabs the name tag and finds the name Deion already written on it. An awkward smile returns to Tyrone’s face as he continues, “There’s a lotta archaic shit in our charter, and look I don’ need to call you Deion but you do need to throw that on.”

While there is an undercurrent of control radiating from Tyrone even in this truly odd situation Daniel is bewildered and trying to understand why on Earth he would need to put on this nametag. He starts to open his mouth to question the purpose of this activity, though as a visitor is it really his space to speak out? It’s gotta be a prank or something? He starts to set the name back down, looking at Tyrone as he does so. His expression changes sharply and swiftly, the embarrassed grin disappears and is immediately replaced by darkened eyes and an assertive scowl. Daniel blinks and Tyrone’s face is suddenly resting on his hands as he continues to stare into him. He blinks again and cannot look away from the powerful hands of the man in front of him, feeling once more the warmth of his hand being decidedly swallowed in the firm handshake not a minute ago.

Another blink and Tyrone is smiling once more, laughing at something that Daniel must have missed. He looks down at himself and finds he is wearing the name tag. His brows knit in confusion as Tyrone starts explaining the activity, gesturing to the room around them, “So today all the current members of the BBSA are acting as mentors to visitors and prospective members.” Daniel’s eyes foggily look across the room once more landing on Jeremy. He did do something different with his hair? Gosh a perm that tight can’t be good for his hair right, and surely you aren’t supposed to dye it at the same time?

Seeing Daniel fixate on Jeremy, Tyrone steps in lest he notice any further changes, himself noticing not only Jeremy’s long blond locks finishing their transformation into a tight curly fade but his skin tone rapidly darkening and a tight goatee beginning to rapidly force itself onto his chin. Tyrone asks the first question of his mentee, “So what brought you in here today Daniel?”

Hearing his name jolts Daniel back to the man across from him, he knows beyond a doubt he only came for extra credit. But he cannot say that to Tyrone, not only of the slight intimidation he feels from the powerful man, but also just how plain rude it is. He takes a few seconds and clears his throat loudly to cover his calculations to find the right thing to say. Making eye contact with the almost purposefully disarming eyes of his mentor. He feels a surge of confidence in his chest, real warmth surging into him from somewhere as his indecisive lips immediately turn into an almost charming smirk and he answers, “I’ve always been interested in this organization actually, all the brothers here just seem so professional and tight.” His eyes glaze over as he continues his lips feel warm as they move thickening as they move alongside his increasingly honeyed tongue.

Tyrone feels smug at how smooth this seems to be going and feeling an urge to toy with his food while he still can, he smirks and says, “Brothers, huh?” Daniel’s eyes immediately return to lucidity as he clears his throat once more, voice cracking and unbeknownst to him growing deeper, as he almost shouts “AH- Not like that!” Tyrone laughs once more, swatting playfully at him, “Just playin’ with you Daniel.” Hearing that name Daniel’s head reflexively twists to the side, Tyrone carefully observes through his laughter as his partners’ hair bounces curlier on his head and his eyes and skin begin to darken from their hitherto pale shades. His eyes start to match the pinnacle of black excellence in front of him, while his skin begins to feel as if it has been kissed by the sun for the first time.

Ready to continue, Tyrone moves on with the conversation, “so what exactly is it about us black men you find so admirable Dan?” Grimacing once more at being called Dan, the student rubs his broadening chin and feeling it scratchier than it has ever been, just missing his still thickening lips as he answers in his deeper voice, “To be real, I think it’s kinda hot just how uh, manly? All you guys are. I’ve never really felt all that masculine, yeah? So seein’ um, seeing all you guys so on top of your education while still being so, uh, fit. It’s inspiring, I guess?”

Tyrone feels a pride in his own chest as he hears Daniel continue, both in the unmistakable lust in his words as well as the ignorance to his own changes as he praises the men all around him. His eyes look past the name tag sticking to his shirt as his chest begins to edge itself larger under his stuffy button up. Tyrone asks further questions to keep Daniel aimlessly talking about his infatuation with their bodies to keep him distracted from his own changes.

He hungrily watches as Daniel readjusts himself in his chair pushing his chair back as his ass and thighs strain his pants. Pushing his chair further away from the table to comfortably sit at it as his legs add inches of height to his frame. As Daniel gestures with his arms Tyrone watches as the curves of his biceps grow unmistakable, veins surging down their length as they begin to darken. Seeing his hair turn from dark brown to black, curls growing even tighter , Tyrone can barely contain a lustful smile as his face darkens even further, totally erasing the pasty busy-body that came for a homework assignment. Tyrone sees a hunger mount in Daniel’s body as he bites his own lip.

Beneath the table there are a number of straining sounds, feet grow beyond the means of the shoes that carried Daniel into this room as his toes burst from the front and the top of his feet stain his laces beyond their limits. Quieter than this there is a strain in the crotch of Daniel’s pants as his package begins to grow well beyond the decidedly average bulge he has always had. Daniel’s eyes are glazed now longer as he bites harder down onto his growing lip and paws at the bulge starting to force its way out of his pants. Behind the man he hears moans of pleasure coming from dozens of other men in the classroom. Tyrone decides it is time to finish this so they may have some fun. The student chokes out through the pleasure consuming him. “Ty- Tyrone, what is, what are you doing to me.”

He raises his chin and answers, feeling his own pants beginning to strain, “What do you mean, Daniel?”

Daniel physically recoils hearing the name both familiar and not, “Who is?” He removes his hand from his crotch to clench at his temples, feeling his body continue to strain against his clothes and scratching his hand up and down his thigh to, in vain, distract from the pleasure, “That’s not,. That’s not my name?” Tyrone can no longer control himself, though decides he no longer needs to. He stands and begins to make his way to the other side of the table, not-Daniel’s eyes stare frantically at him, an unmistakable look of confusion devouring him, as Tyrone moves to stand directly over him and whispers directly into his ear, “Oh? Sorry about that, Deion.”

At this, there is a great ripping sound as Deion’s body shreds whatever clothes still uselessly clung to his body. He reaches his wide arms to grab at Tyrone and with his new found strength pushes him to the floor before falling out of the chair on top of him. Deion forces his head down to smell at the man he is now lying on top of, luxuriating in the expensive cologne and growing even hungrier as he smells the unmistakable body odor beneath. Tyrone grabs at his face and forces him to make eye contact one last time, seeing as Deion fully abandons who he was before as he is consumed. Feeling urgency physically makes itself known as Deion shakes with pleasure Tyrone just brings Deion’s face to his own, feeling him thrust at the air as the two men lie there on the floor enjoying the black excellence that their founders intended. Beards pushing out of both their faces as they go at each other, moans echoing from everywhere in the room as the bodies of both mentors and new members continue to surge and strength Every man demanding their masculinity and power be known as they are filled with the desire to spread it.

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misctf · 11 days

Text

A Real Jock's Supposed To Be Dumb

Mike had a problem. And that problem was Tyler Grant.

Tyler Grant and Mike were both juniors studying finance. Mike was, according to the commonly used way of stereotyping people in college, a nerd. He studied, read books and academic papers, didn't posses good social skills. A nerd.

Tyler Grant was a college athlete, a wide receiver on their university's football team. and at a first glance he was very much a typical jock. He was muscular, his clothes always made that clear. He was popular with everyone, a bit cocky. Everyone knew that type.

But this wasn't the whole picture. For a football jock Tyler had surprisingly good grades. He spent at least some of his free time studying for exams and projects, he was active during classes, and he made an effort to get to know everyone who was present in the lecture hall alongside him.

And that meant Mike was... not frequently, but consistently approached by Tyler. The athlete usually exchanged a few words with him whenever the two bumped into each other.

And Mike was infuriated by this.

Because of course Tyler wasn't doing this because he was a genuinely nice person.

For sure he was doing this out of pity.

He probably laughed all day about Mike, that sad little nerd.

And all that pretending, which was definitely what Tyler was doing, made Mike fuckin' annoyed.

One day Mike was walking through downtown and he stumbled upon a thrift store. Lead by an impulsive thought he walked in and moved through countless racks and shelves. Then he saw it. A random golden chain, similar to the ones jocks like Tyler wore on a daily basis. Again driven by a strange impulse Mike picked it up.

"When you wear it, your word will be reality" A voice, belonging to some older man, whispered into Mike's ear. He quickly turned around but saw no one standing next to him. His eves went back to the chain. He had to have it.

So he bought it. What happened next was pure magic. The golden chain, when hanging form his neck, allowed Mike to alter reality. Which was insane. The chain's power was limited, but clearly visible and Mike was amazed.

He knew what he wanted to do with that power.

A week later Mike had to do a project for a class. The project required working in pairs and, what a coincidence, Tyler was sitting close to him and suggested they work together. Mike put on a fake slime, deep down sure that this was some new plot to make fun of him.

The next day they met in the university library to work on the project. As Tyler looked through some data on his laptop, Mike made sure the chain was under on his neck, hidden by his t-shirt and hoodie.

"You will treat everything I say as normal" Mike said. Nothing changed, Tyler just nodded after hearing these word and continued working. Mike smirked. Perfect.

"You will start behaving like a real jock. No more talking to me out of pity and then laughing at me behind my back. Be a real jock bro."

"Yeah, bruh" Tyler muttered to himself. His position shifted, his upper body more relaxed on the chair, his legs spread out. He swiftly removed his hoodie, revealing a white tank top.

"And let's not kid ourselves, deep down you know you are a dumb idiot. A jock like you will always end up with a brain that can only understand football plays." Mike grinned. He felt real good saying those words. Getting rid of academic competition, putting Tyler where he belonged.

"you callin' me a dumbass, fuckin' nerd?" Tyler stopped typing on his laptop. He looked at Mike, a dumb, cocky grin now clearly visible on his face. Moke could now see the arrogant dominance in his eyes.

"Yes, and you won't do anything about it, because you listen to everything I say, you dumb jock." Mike said straight into Tyler's face. The jock chuckled dumbly and flexed his arm. He put his hand on the bulging muscles and squeezed them.

"duuuuuh, dude" he drawled "wha' were we doin' even bruh? muh brain foggy dude..." he looked at his still opened laptop. "shit, nerd, what is that fuckin' nonsence!"

"I'll take care of that" Mike said as he closed Tyler's laptop. "You have other things to care about."

"fuck yeah i do, nerd!" Tyler barked at him. "Gotta get these guns pumped bruuuuh!" He flexed his arms again and laughed out loud, attracting attention of other people in the library.

"Okay, my jock, we gotta get you out of here" Mike stood up and waited for Tyler to do the same.

"oh fuck, nerd, we gotta get out of this fuckin' nerd central, am i right huhuhuhuhuh" He chuckled loudly as they left the library, Mike's hand on Tyler's biceps. After they were outside Tyler stopped for a moment, got his phone out and took a photo of himself flexing his arm.

"gotta keep the chicks on insta hot n' bothered, nerd" Mike smirked as he heard that. Oh yeah, his plan was going great.

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misctf · 11 days

Text

Spring Break

Noah was pissed. Today was supposed to be the beginning of the best spring break ever. He’d planned a week-long trip with his college friends to New York City. They’d had it all lined up- museums, restaurants, sightseeing, it was perfect. But about a week before, Noah’s mom had called and delivered devastating news. They were having a family reunion that week. In rural Florida. Attendance was not optional. She’d bought his ticket already and there was no way out.

The day had arrived, and he solemnly made his way to the airport and flew to Tallahassee. They were meeting at his relatives’ place in the Florida panhandle, in the middle of nowhere. He’d been once as a kid and vowed never to go back. After a two hour drive from the airport he made it, driving up a dirt driveway to the massive, yet ramshackle, house in the forest. The next hour was a blur of greeting extended family, most of whom he barely remembered since they tended to stay out here in the country. After that settled down his mom came up to him, clearly very excited about something.

“Noah! You’re not gonna believe this, but since it’ll be a few more days before everyone’s here, your cousins Chevy and Logan are gonna take you out on a hunting trip! Just for a couple days,” she was nearly bouncing off the ground.

Noah groaned. That was the last thing he wanted to do. He had nothing in common with his cousins, and certainly did not want to spend time alone with them out in the swampy wilderness. His mom was not hearing any complaints from him though, and she dragged him out back to reacquaint him with his cousins. Chevy and Logan were chatting with each other on the patio, beers in hand, decked out in the camo hunting gear Noah assumed they lived and slept in. They were only a couple years older than Noah, but looked quite a bit older compared to the baby faced city boy.

“Ayyy Noah! What’s up, it’s been a while man,” Chevy walked over and gave him a bear hug, spilling some beer on his back.

“Hey Chevy, nice to see you too. I heard you guys were uh, taking me out camping,” Noah said unenthusiastically.

“Not just camping my guy!” Logan butted in, “We’re talking full on country backroads hunting boy’s trip! We’ll show you what you’re missing by being cooped up in the city.”

Noah’s heart sank; it was worse than he’d thought. They were gonna drag him out there and make him hunt? He didn’t like killing anything and worse, having to deal with the aftermath. He put on a forced grin since his mother was right there.

“Wow, that sounds real great guys, I can’t wait,” he said through gritted teeth. His subliminal messages to them were entirely lost.

“Hell yes bro! Here’s a pack with some of our extra hunting clothing, you won’t want a whole suitcase out there,” Chevy said, handing Noah a backpack. “We’ve got some extra gear that should fit you, it’s already in the truck. We’ll leave in 30 minutes, so get yourself ready.”

30 minutes?? That was immediate, he wouldn’t even have time to plead his case to get out of it. Begrudgingly he went back inside to get his stuff together. The next thing he knew, it was time. The boys were out front in their pickup truck, the back full of tents, camouflage gear, and who knows what else. Logan laid on the horn.

“NOAHHHHHH! It’s time to scram, let's get outta here!” Logan shouted over the blaring horn.

Noah groaned, this was setting the tone for the whole trip. He looked at himself in the mirror, the camo pants and hoodie just looked wrong on him. He for sure didn’t want his clothes getting covered in mud though, so he sucked it up and headed out front. Chevy grabbed his bag and tossed it in the back before climbing in shotgun, leaving Noah in the cramped back seats. And with that, they were off.

“There’s a real nice game area ‘bout an hour, hour and a half from here,” Logan said. “We’ll get in, set up a nice camp, then relax. Then at sunrise we’ll start you off with somethin easy, maybe a deer or boar,” he turned and looked at Noah, grinning.

Noah bounced around in the back of the truck as Logan drove through the forest on bumpy dirt roads. Chevy had put on some country music up front, and they were practically yelling to have a conversation over it. They tried talking to Noah about what he’d been up to, but Noah was sulking and gave only short answers. The sun was starting to hang low in the sky when they pulled off, offroading through some clear land towards a spot they’d clearly been to before. They stopped at a neat little clearing near a creek. It was objectively a beautiful little spot, but Noah was not in the mood to appreciate it, already swatting at mosquitoes swarming him.

“Alright man, you ever pitch a tent?” Chevy asked Noah.

“Uh, no, I haven’t”

“Well here, I’ll help ya out,” he said earnestly. “We’ve already got a well used spot here, so first we just lay out this footprint, and here let’s have you start with the poles.”

Noah fumbled around with the metal poles before eventually getting them together. He was frustrated, why would he ever need to know this? Chevy took the poles and got the tent up while Logan was still unloading the back of the truck.

“Alright we’re nearly done, just gotta secure it with these stakes,” he handed them to Noah. “Just stick these through the corner, make sure they’re deep in the ground now.”

Noah took the stakes and tried pushing them into the dirt, but they only made it about an inch in. He tried scraping the dirt away with his hands but that didn’t help. Chevy tapped his shoulder, holding a mallet as a suggestion. They’d just gotten here and already Noah was annoyed despite his cousin’s encouraging attitude. His hands were covered in dirt too, he hated being dirty! And he had no escape from all of it. He stormed off to the water’s edge in a huff while the other two finished putting their site together. The sun was really setting by then.

“Ey Noah!” Logan called, “Come have a beer with us man! We’ve got some chili cookin’ too, ya gotta eat somethin,” he laughed. Noah sighed. There was no point in sulking the entire trip like this, even if he wanted to. He walked back over and pulled a beer out of the cooler they’d brought and sat down.

“It seems his highness has decided to grace us with his presence,” Chevy mocked. Noah chuckled. He’d make it through this, even if it took all the beer in that cooler. The boys ate dinner and talked as the sun dipped below the horizon, with Noah actually giving some substantial answers this time. He was exhausted, having flown in and driven all day. He climbed into his tent to hit the sack. If he’d had a mirror in there, he would’ve noticed what looked like some dirt smeared on his face, just on his upper lip and the sides of his face by his ears.

Noah was abruptly awakened by Chevy shaking him. “Hey bro! It’s just starting to get light out, let’s get moving.” Noah groaned, it was his vacation and he was getting woken up at five something in the morning. He crawled out of his tent, banging his head on the pole; was it really that small last night? The boys were up and moving already, and Chevy handed Noah a granola bar to eat. “It’s a light breakfast I know, but we don’t wanna miss the prime time of the day,” he said softly.

Despite being exhausted, Noah’s annoyance was fading quickly. Maybe this would be a little bit of fun; at the very least it would be something different from normal. He scratched at his chin, his fingers brushing through the smallest bit of stubble that had sprouted overnight. Noah had never been able to grow facial hair, but for some reason this didn’t alarm him, it felt natural even. He put on his hat to hide his messy hair and began to chow down on that granola bar. As he did, that small amount of stubble began pushing out more, giving Noah a shadow across his jaw. It grew thicker, sticking out further until he had a rough, patchy beard. It made Noah look more natural in his hunting gear, aging him up just a hair. His clothes had also grown less baggy on him, attributing to an extra inch or two in height and some mass he’d never been able to pack on before.

Within a few minutes, they were off, trekking through the tall grass into the brush. Logan guided them to a denser pocket where they set up watch and waited for some wildlife to show up. Logan had told them he knew there were deer that tended to feed nearby, so they just had to be quiet and wait. The tension grew as time passed, and before he knew it, a buck had shown up in the clearing. Chevy had prepared him for this, and he took the shot. The deer went down, and Chevy and Logan cheered.

“Hell yes dude! Nice shot, especially for your first time,” Logan patted him on the back.

Chevy gripped him with joy, “It must be in your blood bro, you’re a natural.”

The adrenaline was coursing through Noah’s veins and to his surprise he was actually having a good time. He couldn’t remember why he hadn’t wanted to spend time with his cousins, they were chill, and this was turning out to be better than being cooped up in the house. The three of them carried the animal back, working together to hoist several hundred pounds. The sun was fully up now and it was humid. Sweat ran down Noah’s back, and he could smell the putrid stench coming off Chevy in front of him. He didn’t mind though, after all, that’s what a working man smells like.

The sweat was clinging to Noah’s damp skin, beading on his forehead. As he slogged ahead, carrying this massive weight on his shoulders, his body began to adapt. His twig like arms expanded with new muscle, his thighs exploded with size, and his chest produced an impressive set of pecs before softening with a layer of fat. The sweat and smell really began to soak into his skin, and under his sopping shirt small brown hairs poked up around his nipples. Those soft, small hairs didn’t remain so for long, sprouting from his chest, covering the expanse in a curly rug that was slicked down with sweat. Noah’s stubble was not to be left out, pushing further out of his face. Hairs wriggled out in the gaps between old ones, leaving him with much better coverage on his cheeks. Around his chin it even started to fluff up a little, coarse hairs puffing out.

They finally made it back to their camp, dropping the load and slumping into the chairs they’d left around the fire pit.

“We’ll have to gut and clean that in a minute, but here champ,” Logan handed Noah a beer. It was cold, and exactly what Noah needed against the oppressive humidity. “Here’s to many more,” he toasted, before chugging his own down. Noah was finally able to take a breather, and thats when he noticed.

He STUNK.

He raised his arms back behind his head, airing them out. The sweat drenched pits aired their stench to the world, but to Noah, he just matched his cousins now. The exposed pits had a few hairs plastered to the skin. As he sipped the beer and relaxed, more wisps of hair shot out from his skin, growing thick and wiry. What started as a few extra hairs quickly blossomed into a thick forest of hairs, tangling together and poking out of the sleeves of his t-shirt. The hairs itched as they grew in, prompting Noah to dig his fingers in there, scratching through the sweaty, smelly hairs. He didn’t question it, as far as he remembered he’d had hairy pits since middle school. The hairs spread out of his pits, connecting to the dense coating on his chest. The rug on his chest had started creeping upwards, reaching with thick tendrils of hair towards his burgeoning beard.

After a short reprieve Noah was back on his feet, jumping at the opportunity to learn from his cousins how to clean their kill. They were eager to teach him, to fold him into their ways. Noah’s distaste for his cousins, the country, hunting, all of it was evaporating. He felt like he had so much in common with them now, how had he never realized?

The rest of the day Chevy and Logan took Noah on a whole laundry list of activities they’d planned. Fishing, mudding, you name it. All hesitation had disappeared, Noah was in deep now. He kept drinking with the boys, not noticing that his gut was pushing tight against his shirt. In fact, his whole upper body was stretching out. His shoulders pushed out, growing broader. His frame was massive now, bigger than either of his cousins. He stood out on the edge of a pond in the harsh sunlight fishing, his shirt absolutely soaked with sweat that dribbled down his massive back. As it reached his waistband, it began fertilizing the growth of a new patch of hair right above his plump ass. The hairs sprung out of the wet skin, shooting up his spine in minutes. Before long the hairs had spread out across the wide expanse of his lats, pressing against the tight shirt. The fields of hair were thick, dense enough to darken the shade of his skin, and definitely didn’t help with the sweat situation. The hairs continued to spread, climbing over his round shoulders and down his arms, coating him with a wild fur that cemented his place out in the country. He was really starting to look like his cousins now, between his camo gear, hairy body, and beer gut.

When the three of them returned to camp that night, Noah was exhausted. He grabbed another can from the cooler and cracked it open. Putting up to his mouth, he tilted it a little too far, spilling foamy beer down his face and into his chest hair. He chuckled and half attempted to wipe the foam off. Where it sat in his beard, the hairs began to thicken and sprout. His mustache grew incredibly thick, making itself known above the rest of his scruff. His chest fur also took to the growth, turning into a real carpet that climbed up and out of his shirt collar. Noah let out a massive burp in response.

“Yo Chevy, we really gotta head back tomorrow? Shit rocks out here,” Noah said with a deeper voice than he’d ever had previously.

“Yea bro, Ma will skin us if we miss the reunion. But don’t worry man, I know you’ll be back out with us in no time,” he flashed a grin at Noah.

Noah went and dug through their bags, finding a lighter and pack of cigars. Now that the sun was going down, it was cool enough to enjoy being outside. He lit it up and took a hefty puff, his huge, hirsute body taking it in like a champ. Any thoughts about his old spring break, his old life, had been dragged through the mud and stamped out. All he wanted to do now was relax, listen to the sounds of the crickets, and spend time with his bros.

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misctf · 13 days

Text

IN THE LOCKER ROOM

Where am I? Fuck bro, my mind... I clutch my head, but all I can think about is... is... men bro. Fucking big ones. Ones with abs like mine. Ones who are are hairy like me.

The jock grins. Nah bro, not with abs like that. They're so tight, so toned. You're a fucking wrestler now, and the team doesn't need a lightweight. The teams needs a fucking horse.

I feel my body fattening up. My abs are coated in a layer of firm fat and my torso thickens. Hehe bro, I guess this new body has been eating like a pig for years. Pizza after pizza, and all that protein. FUCK YEAH, where else do you think all these gains came from?? And that's not to mention slamming down all those beers. I grunt, and give my new stomach a squeeze.

Wait, grunt? I do it again. My neck is like a horse, a bull. Strong, and as thick as my head. My voice has dropped. Duh bro, you think I'm gonna squeal like a pussy? You think I'm gonna moan when a guy grabs me on the mats? Nah bro, of course I'm fucking grunting, I'm a fucking animal.

FUUUUCCKKKK. Ive got all this energy pent up. I want to get out there, on the mats. I want to fucking slam a guy. I want to fucking BE slammed. I lift up my arms, flexing my huge new biceps, showing off my steamy pits. I give one a sniff, its like a fucking locker room.

Huhu, makes sense.

A guy comes up to me from behind and slaps my ass. Hell yeah bro, give it a squeeze, I know you like it. This beef is for my BOYS, bro. What's that? I need a uniform? I fucking think so bro. I feel my pants melt and ripple up around my legs, flowing like a fluid, fusing with my tshirt into a tight singlet. It snaps into place over my hairy body, releasing a mist of sweat. I look down and see it plastered over my huge cock, and grab my crotch. I'm so fucking horny. Underwear? Nah dude, my balls need to breathe.

That's what I'm talking about, huhu. I'm grinning like a fucking idiot. Bro, I AM a fucking idiot. The dude turns to my face. He's the captain, and he wants me on the team. Uh, duh, why do you think I'm here bro? Great. He grins and pats me on the shoulder. Welcome dude, we'll have you squirming on the mats in no time.

Until then, bro, fucking enjoy yourself.

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misctf · 13 days

Text

Tenor Troubles

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Next Week

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Next Week

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do come in.”

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