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The bike trip (new pictures)

Tomasso, a 27 year old Sicilian man living in Milan. Tomasso had a deep love for and fitness enjoyed running often. He balanced his passion for health with his profession as a real estate broker. Alongside these interests, Tomasso had a deep passion for food and loved to cook. He often found himself exploring the culinary delights of his hometown, Milan, by frequenting nice restaurants.

While Tomasso enjoyed a variety of outdoor activities on his holidays, he particularly loved indulging in hiking, skiing, and bike tours. However, despite being an Italian, he had never taken opportunity the to explore Tuscany. This was mainly due to the fact that his family hailed from Sicily, and his travels were often divided between Milan and his ancestral home or other destinations abroad.

One day, Tomasso stumbled upon a brochure advertising a four-week culinary trip through the enchanting region of Tuscany. The idea of visiting little villages, trying local delicacies, drinking good wine, and relaxing in beautiful hotels beneath the warm Tuscan sun sounded absolutely perfect to him. Determined to embark on this adventure, Tomasso began training for his trip. He dedicated one to two hours each day to wearing a heavy backpack, as well as participating in various fitness exercises to achieve the perfect summer body just in time for his holiday.

When the day finally arrived, Tomasso packed his car and embarked on a scenic drive to his first destination. Much to his delight, he was greeted at a stunning hotel with a glass of Prosecco and a delectable buffet of cured meats and cheeses. Overwhelmed by the abundance of food and the enticing free-flowing Prosecco, he indulged himself to the point of feeling a little tipsy. Just as he was about to retire to his room and rest for his trip, he received an unexpected call dinner for. Confused, as he thought he had already experienced dinner at the buffet, Tomasso found himself faced with even more extravagant dishes. A vitello tonato served as the starter, followed by a large plate of delicious and rich pasta. Just when he believed the pasta was the course main, a great roasted chicken appeared before him. Unable to resist, he ate until he was uncomfortably full. And to his surprise, a bottomless tiramisu was served for dessert. Despite his overflowing belly, he eagerly devoured a second plate. The night was filled with restless sleep due to the excessive indulgence.

The following day began with a sluggish feeling, which Tomasso attempted to shake off with a carb-loaded breakfast. He then set off on a two-hour bike ride to his first destination, a dairy farm. There, he tasted a variety of amazing cheeses, such as burrata and aged cheese, accompanied by rich artisanal bread and fruit fresh from the farm's garden. After another hour of cycling, he arrived at an olive grove, where he enjoyed a delightful olive oil tasting, followed by homemade pizzas. The final stop was a winery, where he indulged in a tasting of many excellent wines, paired with bread, cheeses, and meats. The overindulgence caused him to feel a little tipsy. Fortunately, the tour operator offered the use of a bus to transport the participants and their bikes back to the hotel, allowing Tomasso to enjoy several more glasses of wine. Once back at the hotel, he was met with yet another amazing antipasti buffet, accompanied by Prosecco, followed by a four-course dinner. Despite his attempts to exercise self-control, Tomasso succumbed to the temptation of all the delicious food before him.

The ensuing days followed a similar routine with different locations. However, due to his excessive drinking at the winery, Tomasso found himself skipping the long bike rides. As the days went by, he couldn't help but notice aated blo feeling that never seemed to subside. His normal clothes began to feel uncomfortably tight, leaving him wondering how he had gained weight despite the long bike rides.

By the halfway point of his trip, Tomasso noticed that his once-pronounced abs were now hidden beneath a layer of fat. Consequently, he started skipping even more bike rides, as they were often paired with alcohol-related activities. This pattern continued, and he found himself becoming gradually bigger and less active as the weeks progressed.

By the end of the third and fourth weeks, Tomasso had practically discontinued any form of bike exercise, delegating the task to the tour guide. One day, while glancing at his reflection in the hotel mirror, he saw a full-blown belly staring back at him. Despite his growing size, he had no regrets. The tour had been an absolute blast, allowing him to immerse himself in the amazing specialties and cultural experiences of his own country.

The rest of the summer, Tomasso enjoyed the bottles of wine and various foods he had taken home as souvenirs. Unfortunately, he remained quite inactive during this period. As September approached and he reached for his regular clothes, he realized that none of them fit anymore. He knew it was time to go on a diet.

The following summer, Tomasso decided to book another culinary tour, this time in Sicily. Four weeks of indulgence awaited him, followed by two weeks of visiting family. However, his body had not fully recovered from the previous year's excesses, and he had only managed to shed a few kilos. This time, the bike rides were even more infrequent, while the food intake increased exponentially. The visits to family members provided even less opportunity for physical activity, as Tomasso found himself overstuffed with his mother's and aunt's delicious meals. By the end the of holiday, he had gained even more weight than the previous year, leaving him to question when he would ever manage to lose the excess weight.

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DJ (new pictures)

Victor Mills, a 26-year-old Dutch DJ, had always been passionate about fitness and music. With his great body, tall stature, and blond locks, he attracted attention wherever he went. Victor had been hitting the gym since he was 16 and had developed an impressive physique. His preferred style of music was techno, and his talent earned him a place in the lineup of famous DJs.

One summer, Victor had the opportunity to go to Ibiza for six weeks to be the warm-up DJ at a renowned nightclub just before the headline act appeared. Excited about this chance, he got in touch with the booker, who promised to watch him play a few nights. Impressed by Victor's talent, the booker proposed to become his manager. From that moment, Victor's summer took off like a whirlwind. The booker had him playing at various venues, and girls started up for lining a chance to be with him.

When Victor wasn't performing, he would hit up VIP areas and party with other famous DJs. It was during one of these parties that he was offered drugs, and he decided to indulge. Falling into a routine of waking up at 2 PM, hitting the gym, lounging on the beach, enjoying dinner and then, partying the night away, Victor felt like he was living the dream. Resulting in a beefed up tanned body. This lifestyle continued throughout the entire summer until the closing party, after which he flew back to the Netherlands.

Back in his home country, the booker continued booking him for gigs at various clubs across Europe. Victor's career was skyrocketing, and he didn't see the harm in occasionally using drugs in combination with alcohol to keep up with the demanding lifestyle. The following summer, he was once again booked at the same club in Ibiza and several other venues. The nights were long, but Victor reveled in the attention, the sex, and the feeling that he had finally made it in the industry. It became a mantra for him, work hard, play hard. However, halfway through the summer, Victor found himself relying heavily on drugs to keep himself going. The booker provided the substances as long as Victor kept the crowd happy, and so he did. The drugs had consumed his nights, and he continued using them until he couldn't anymore. The excessive and reckless lifestyle led him to blackout and wake up in the hospital. His booker was furious and gave him an ultimatum; go to rehab or end the collaboration. Realizing that he had hit rock bottom, Victor swiftly flew back to the Netherlands and checked into rehab for his drug addiction. Despite feeling ashamed, he was determined to become clean. During his time in rehab, he dedicated hours to the gym, using exercise as a way to stay motivated and focused. He also attended therapy sessions, gradually rebuilding his self-esteem. Eventually, he was released from rehab, but the nightlife now seemed mundane without drugs. However, he remained committed to his sobriety and stayed away from the substances. The booker, in an effort to support Victor's recovery, provided snacks instead of drugs alongside the alcohol. With his dedication to the gym and the support of his booker, Victor managed to bulk up and develop an impressive physique. His chise abs wereled hidden beneath a of layer muscle, which only seemed to attract even more attention from the opposite sex. Victor embraced this newfound confidence and began to yearn for more.

In the gym, Victor's trainer, a massive ex-bodybuilder, suggested a bulking plan involving specific foods and supplements. Intrigued, Victor agreed and started the program right away. At first, everything seemed to be working perfectly. He experienced a significant energy boost, felt invincible, and his muscles popped even more. The attention and admiration he received from others intensified. It was a high he didn't want to come down from. Driven by his desire to become even bigger, Victor persuaded his booker to bring more food and pushed his trainer to provide him with more supplements and even steroids. Although initially hesitant, Victor succumbed to the allure after days of stagnation in his progress. The steroids had an immediate impact. Victor's strength skyrocketed, and his muscles swelled to an enormous size. Women clamored for his attention, fascinated by the muscle beast he had become. However, the steroids took a toll on his mental state, making him explosively aggressive. His behaviors started to cause problems, and the club in his home country decided to cut ties with him. Victor, undeterred, knew he would have a place in Ibiza, where his size would be celebrated.

When Victor arrived on the island, everyone was astonished by his colossal physique. He became an attraction in the clubs, and his popularity soared. Engulfed by a blur of late nights, persistent steroid use, copious amounts of alcohol, drugs, and never-ending feasts, Victor's summer became a chaotic haze. The gym took a backseat, and his focus shifted entirely to indulging in his vices. Gradually, his size expanded beyond desirable limits, and he turned into a massive, overweight figure.

Despite his excessive weight gain, Victor's reputation as a star grew. He had more gigs than ever before, and he was being booked and flown everywhere. To survive the night, he would snack instead of drinking alcohol, and after-parties now took place at fast-food restaurants. He was getting bigger and bigger.

Back in the Netherlands he kept this routine going. Getting fatter and fatter. Partying like crazy. A few days before Christmas he had a lunch where he completely overate himself, washed it away with glases of champagne and to get ready for dinner he used some lines of cocaine. Dinner he overate himself again and started to feel pressure on his chest. He ignored it and did the same the next day. The pressure on chest was too much and collapsed. He was rushed to hospital where they concluded a heart attack. He had to go back to rehab again. This time for alcohol, drugs and steroids.  He stayed six weeks in South Africa. He ate his pain and withdrawal signs away. When he got back he had significantly less muscles but his belly was bigger then ever. His hearts attack had been all over the news and he was a proper star now. He had more gigs then ever and was booked and flown everywhere. To survive the the night he had snacks instead of alcohol and after parties were at McDonalds now. He got huge after 6 months of overeating himself almost every night. But he was happy to be alive. So now he just parties sober and earns a great living. Eventhough the female attention was less with this enormous belly he had a healthy relationship with himself now.

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La vie est belle

Thibault, a 35-year-old with a big chest, strong arms embodies the ex-jock look with his abs covered by the good French life. He lives in a quaint French countryside filled with wine farms that have been in his family for four generations. Thibault is a hard worker who has dedicated himself to weightlifting at his home gym and running the farm. However, he struggles with finding a romantic partner as there are no openly gay individuals in his small town, and he despises city life. Thankfully, his mother and his four loving sisters constantly pamper him.

Despite his weightlifting and because of his mother's delicious food he said goodbye to his abs when he returned home after his economics study. Home made pies, foie gras, cheese boards, stews, etc, all made it impossible to live on just chicken and broccoli. Thibault has always harbored an ambition to win prizes for his family's wines. However, the sudden death of his father left him unable to achieve this dream as his father didn’t get the chance to leave him the family’s wine blending secrets. As a means to gather feedback, Thibault starts dining at a restaurant that sells wines from the region and forms a bond with the owners who pamper him with delicious food. Unfortunately, indulging in these culinary delights leads to him gaining some weight. Mainly around his belly.

After a few years of trying out blends Thibault's fortunes change when he becomes the winner of a prestigious regional wine festival. Thrilled with this recognition, he takes his wines to various other festivals and attends big parties and tastings. However, as he immerses himself in this world, Thibault's belly continues to grow alongside his success.

Thibault's wines gain popularity, and upscale restaurants invite him to bring his wines for menu tastings. His mother, concerned about his well-being, packs snacks for him to enjoy during the long drives. These snacks, along with his indulgence in fatty breakfasts to combat hangovers, only contribute to his expanding waistline. Eventually, Thibault finds himself needing to buy a new wardrobe to accommodate his weight gain.

To combat the effects of his overeating, Thibault starts running. However, his fitness journey comes to an abrupt halt when he injures his ankle, rendering him unable to do anything but focus on exercises for his chest and arms. This setback only serves to bulk up these muscles, causing Thibault to outgrow his gym shirts.

His awarded wines give him to write about his passion in the culinary world. As a food and wine critic for a prominent international newspaper, Thibault finds himself in the perfect position to recover from his injury. His mother aids in his recovery by preparing delectable food pairings for his wine tastings, and farmers from the countryside send him their specialties to try. These days are filled with writing and indulging in delicious meals.

Unfortunately, Thibault's mother falls ill and entrusts her daughters with taking care of him. Each night, a different sister cooks for him, ensuring he has big portions of food to fuel his growing business and appetite. As a result, Thibault's belly expands exponentially, making simple tasks such as tying his shoes more challenging and leaving him out of breath quickly.

Due to his expertise in the wine industry, Thibault is appointed as the chairman of a prestigious wine qualification company. This honorable position brings him recognition from farmers who send him gifts, food, and wine. As Thibault visits various towns for his work, he finds himself surrounded by enticing food and never-ending parties, causing his weight to steadily increase.

Thibault's godson Bernard, the son of his closest friends and neighbors, came back from university in the US. The boy turned into a handsome and muscular young man, expresses a desire to work for his godfather. Thibault gladly accepts and tries not to fall in live with the young man. Wanting to keep his beloved godfather happy, Bernard takes charge of cooking their lunches. Bernard had learned to cook big American meals in dorm combining this with French taste. Thibault, trying to hide his crush, started to eat everything in sight. As Thibault becomes a charitable figure, he is invited to various events and wants Bernard to accompany him everywhere.

While Thibault sleeps off the hangovers from wine filled nights Bernard starts his days with a run and picks up breakfast for his godfather. One morning Thibault looked out of the window and sees his godson shirtless sweating and stretching after his run. The sight is amazing, the young man has sculpted abs and a big chest. Amazingly big legs and a round ass. He feels his dick getting hard, but when he looked down he couldn't even see his feet anymore. Bernard caught Thibault staring and waved and holds up a bag of pastries. Thibault is embarrassed. How can he be attracted to his godson, its just wrong he tells himself. Bernard brings up the breakfast to his room, still shirtless. He gives the bag to Thibault and tells him he bought som extra for the long roadtrip. The trip is tense, Thibault didnt dare to speak and ate all the pastries within in the first hour. Bernard thinks his godfather is just hungry and after pumping gas he returns to the car with more food.

This can’t continue Thibault thinks to himself as he looks down to his massive belly sitting in his lap. Looking at his reflexion in the car mirror, he suddenly realized what happened to him, he went from fit college jock to grey haired morbidly obese 43 years old single gay wine farmer.

Stay tuned for part 2

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Gaming

David had always been a lazy short kid, not particularly fond of sports but his father pushed him in the college wrestling team. He never really thrived in but his short height made him look beefy very fast. When he wasn’t studying or at wrestling practice David played every videogame he could take his hands on. His father determination and the almost daily wrestling practice made him a beefy muscular student when he reached senior year. David was sporting a chiseled six-pack and impressively large chest and buff arms. His physical transformation earned him a spot among the popular crowd, although he was still the quiet, clever kid who sweated bullets whenever anyone spoke to him and never really spoke made friends. Upon graduating, David landed his dream job as a game tester at a leading video game company. His boss, Mr. Timmons, was a sweet-natured, jolly man who adored shy guys. Timmons saw immense potential in David's analytical skills and quick gameplay. David's first few weeks at the company were blissful; the office was like an adult playground with gyms, tantalizing restaurants, coffee bars, and sprawling playrooms equipped with lounge chairs. David loved routine and stuck to his 9-to-5 schedule and made it a point to hit the gym daily as he was used in college. He also loved the informal atmosphere and could walk around all day in his fitness wear.

Recognition came swiftly, and David was promoted within a few months. His new role involved discussing innovative game formats, which meant longer meetings and less time for gym sessions. David found himself confined to his chair for hours on end, immersed in gaming mazes and user experience discussions. The chefs at the office prepared rich, delicious protein-packed meals, furthering David's muscle gain. His shirts started to feel increasingly snug, but the added mass felt like an accomplishment as he started to really beef up.

A highly addictive game project came along, and David was tasked to test it extensively. He devoted himself to marathon 16-hour sessions. Mr. Timmons, noticing David's determined fatigue, checked in frequently, bringing generous portions of food and drink. The first day David willingly accepted, but as days turned into a week, he found himself relying on the constant stream of rich meals to fuel his extended play hours. The game testing finished well, but David's usual gym routine was long forgotten. He struggled to fit into his jeans, and the sedentary lifestyle started showing visible signs.

The longer hours became the norm, with more complex projects demanding more of David’s time and attention. But he managed to get in a few gym sessions during the week. Combined with endless plates of pasta, succulent steaks, and calorific desserts delivered by the company chefs his appearance got even beefier. Bigger chest, bigger arms but his abs were also completely covered by a round layer of fat. Despite the strains on his waistband and the occasional puffing after climbing a flight of stairs, David felt a strange contentment in his new role—mainly because Mr. Timmons was incessantly encouraging, often accompanying him during meals.

David began to notice the gradual evolution of his body too; his snug shirts were now actively straining against his expanding midsection, and he was always short on breath after a short walk down the hallway. Laundry day meant grappling with clothes, trying to wriggle into pants that felt two sizes too small. He moved up to larger, "comfier" attire but didn't pay much heed, assuming it was just a phase and at work he only wears stretchy gym wear.

One night, while deeply engrossed in binge eating a triple-decker burger and fries, followed by a chocolate fudge sundae prepared at the office dining, he felt something strange. He found himself increasingly craving these calorie-laden meals, indulging in a cycle of eating and gaming, with almost no movement in between. The once hard-earned muscle now ebbed away, covered under layers of fat. His reflection in his favorite gym mirrors showed a softer, rounder David staring back.

Weekends at home became a blur of pizzas, sodas, and gaming marathons. The evolution of his frame made everyday activities increasingly laborious. Simple acts like climbing the stairs to his apartment often left him sweating and gasping for air. Mr. Timmons, who enjoyed seeing David's transformation, would often join him for movie nights filled with snacks, leading to intimate discussions about game ideas while unabashedly gorging. Even at work, David's sedentary lifestyle prompted additional changes as he moved less and ate more. His desk was often cluttered with empty snack bags, soda cans, and food containers. Where once he sought respite in the gym, he now sank into comfortable lounge chairs between gameplay sessions, indulging in quick naps coated in the lethargy of a full stomach.

One particularly tiring day, David, increasingly overwhelmed by his bulk, sat down on the lobby bench. He bent over to tie his shoes, only to realize he could barely reach them. His belly, now more pronounced than his chest, got in the way, causing him to sweat profusely. Mr. Timmons walked by and noticed David’s struggle. Instead of scolding him, he helped David with his shoelaces, patting him comfortingly on the back.

Feeling a mixture of embarrassment and unexpected satisfaction, David leaned back and smiled. He's transformed far beyond his fit, high school self to an obese but weirdly content game tester. For the first time, he felt a peculiar happiness in his job environment—an acceptance not just from his boss but from himself. Timmons pitched a new a concept to David. The concept was that during work hours David would do live online game testing and Q&A with gaming fans. David loved the idea, he was able to share his knowledge without interacting with people but also keep trying out new games. The first few sessions were a success. But also a challenge as they kept on going as the fans kept interacting. Timmons saw this and ordered staff to bring snacks and drinks to his hungry talent.

The fans loved the concept and it became a bigger community. They started requesting specific games of concepts to test and review. And David loved his new challenge. Timmons made sure that David had everything he needed during the sessions. It almost became and endless eating session during the live sessions. David’s weight really started to explode now. Even the viewers saw this and started mentioning his gains. David addressed the concerns during his sessions but shrugged it off and told the viewers not to worry, he liked to feel big as he always been a short kid.

The company started to offer private sessions with David too where the could ask questions about individual problems during their own gaming sessions. This really lifted off as this boosted the revenue even more. David got big bonusses and was happy to do a few private sessions at night extra. Most sessions were just asking guidance at difficult game levels but some were personal. Questions about his favorite snacks, or if he would still workout. But also his bench press and squat records. David liked this and replied as much a he could. Some challenged him to see if he could still lift heavy weight or even do a pull up. David decided to do a live session from the gym. The amount of viewers was insane. He started of strong and he was still able to get in a few push ups and squat a nice amount of weight but benching was difficult. When trying to do a pull up he failed terribly, he couldn't even do one. He was breathing heavy and already started sweating. He whiped off his head with his shirt, showing his bloated bulging belly, forgetting that he was live. The fans went crazy and started requesting more. After weeks of live sessions and eating everything in sight he was again bigger.

He now often did gym challenges, resulting in growing more as his muscle memory made his muscle bulge out fast on his short body amd within weeks he was back at his old strength level. Not only did the viewers like the sessions but some asked to send his favorite food to have him eat it live. Or food challenges, they challenged him to eat massive portions. David didn’t really think much of it as long as Timmons was happy. And Timmons was. He loved his golden boy bringing in big bucks no matter what it takes. Even if David got bigger and bigger and bigger.

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La vie est belle - part 2

The silence in car is tense, Bernard notices his godfather. Asks whats wrong. Thibault first didnt want to reply but the silence was killing him and said, this can’t continue. What can’t Bernard asks. Thibault says, you can’t keep feeding me and I need to stop drinking so much. I got huge! When I get back home it’s time to change. The event they drove to was a famous farmers market where Thibault was the mayor’s guest of honor. All local producers offered their specialties and Thibault felt obliged to eat. The mayor Jean-Pierre (JP) was incredibly handsome and very funny. During the two days the mayor introduced Thibault to everyone in his town. Thibault was impressed, after so many events he had been to none of their mayors spend so much time with him. He learned that JP’s father and grandfather all had been the town’s mayors for many years and that they were responsible for the town’s flourishing economy. JP was the first mayor that didn’t live in the mayor’s house and created a boutique hotel there. That’s where Thibault stayed that night too. It was a charming mansion filled with history. JP opened a bottle of wine that was Thibault’s to his surprise. It was JP’s favorite he said. They laughed and joked and Thibault felt as comfortable like he didnt in a long time. They emptied the bottle and started kissing. Thibault offered the mayor to come up with him and they did. After years without intimacy Thibault ripped off JP’s taylored shirt. He was impressed by the fit 40 year old. A beefy muscular hairy body was revealed with even a hint of a sixpack. JP told him that he still played rugby with the local team. It made him even more loved by everyone and it kept him quiet fit.

Thibault felt deeply embarrassed by his weight and how much he'd let himself go. JP, however, reassured him not to worry, reminding him that he loves bigger guys. Thibault was giving his best effort, but he quickly found himself out of breath. His heart raced in his chest, sweat pouring down his face, until, after a short while, he just had to give up.

"Just lie back and relax," JP said with a comforting smile. Thibault obliged, letting himself unwind. What followed was an intimate and unforgettable moment. JP gave him the most incredible experience, taking his time, making sure Thibault felt nothing but comfort and pleasure. They both reached their climax, and afterward, they collapsed side by side, peacefully falling asleep together.

The next morning, Thibault woke to find his bed empty and felt a pang of worry, fearing that he had done something wrong. Just then, a knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. When he opened it, there stood Bernard, sweating from another run in his skin-tight compression shirt, a fresh cup of coffee in one hand and a bag full of croissants and pastries in the other.

Bernard informed Thibault that they needed to leave in 45 minutes to make it to the next event. Feeling the urgency, Thibault hurried into the shower, quickly took care of himself, and began packing his belongings. In his rush, he momentarily abandoned his resolve to adopt a healthier lifestyle, grabbing a couple of croissants and a cream-filled pastry to satisfy his hunger.

When he came down from his hotel room, he found JP waiting for him at a large table filled with plates of eggs, bacon, cheeses, and an assortment of pastries. Thibault was happy to see that his date was still interested but felt too embarrassed to admit that he was already stuffed from the croissants and pastries he'd had earlier. Discreetly, he texted Bernard, asking him not to mention the food he'd already eaten.

JP thanked him and told him how much fun he'd had. Then, JP asked if Thibault would like to spend the weekend at his cottage, not far from town. At first, Thibault thought about all the plans he had for the weekend—the events he had to attend and the meetings scheduled in the next town. But after a moment of reflection, he decided to let Benjamin go in his place. Benjamin had more than enough experience by now to handle things on his own, and Thibault felt he deserved a break. It had been five very intense years.

The cottage was massive, more akin to a country house. JP lived there alone with his maid. His family had all relocated to the big cities, and being gay, he didn’t have a family of his own to share the space with. That’s why he decided to transform the mayor’s house into a hotel. Managing two enormous houses would have been excessive, and the locals truly appreciated his decision. Guests strolled around, lounged by the pool, indulged in more leisure (and romance), and JP's maid prepared sprawling tables of sumptuous food. Every meal was rich and lavish.

By Monday morning, Thibault was still feeling overstuffed from all the decadent dining. Even JP’s belly appeared slightly bloated. Bernard arrived to pick up Thibault for the long drive back. As they parted ways, they promised to meet again soon. Bernard, as usual, came prepared with boxes filled with food and wine from the events he had attended—and, of course, a large bag of pastries for the road. Thibault, still battling a lingering hangover from the indulgent weekend, couldn’t resist the pastries. He devoured the entire bag in less than 35 minutes: starting with a croissant, followed by a baguette with brie and truffle, a hefty slice of quiche Lorraine, a pain au chocolat, two almond croissants, and a tarte framboise. By the time he was done, the hangover had lifted, and he was ready to chat again.

As they drove, the two marveled at how JP had converted the mayor’s house into a hotel, breathing new life into the local economy. Inspired, they brainstormed ideas for starting a B&B and artisanal food market. Their vision included partnering with producers from all over France to stock the shop with the most exquisite and rare products the country had to offer. Combined with Bernard’s award-winning wines, they believed it was a winning formula to attract people to his château.

Thibault had saved a significant amount of money and decided to invite a handsome Parisian architect he followed on Instagram to help design plans for refurbishing his farm. A few days later, Yves arrived. He was even more striking in person—an attractive man in his 30s, impeccably dressed in an expensive linen tailored shirt that highlighted his well-defined physique, paired with stylish jeans.

As Yves began speaking, Thibault immediately recognized the familiar accent of someone from their region. Yves explained that he had moved away to study architecture, eventually settling in the city after graduating. He had secured a promising position at a prestigious firm, where his dedication earned him the opportunity to become a partner after a few years. Despite his success, Yves confessed that he missed the peace and quiet of the countryside, though he did not miss the lack of privacy that came with small-town life.

Thibault led Yves around the estate, sharing his vision for transforming the property. Yves grasped the concept effortlessly and promptly began working on the project.

Two weeks later, Yves returned and presented his plans. Thibault, however, felt disappointed—they seemed to lack something essential. Hoping to spark some creativity, Thibault poured Yves a glass of wine, and the two began brainstorming together. The afternoon slipped into evening, and before they knew it, it was late. Yves had drunk too much to safely drive back to his hotel, so Thibault graciously offered him the guestroom. Yves accepted the offer, and the pair stayed up a while longer, sharing a few more glasses of wine as their conversation continued.

The next morning, Bernard returned after a run and prepared a nice, hearty breakfast for the two men. During breakfast, Yves received a call informing him that his father had fallen ill. Being so close to his childhood town, Yves immediately rushed off to see his father. Later that day, Thibault received a call from Yves, who shared the devastating news that his father was not expected to survive the coming months. Yves's mother had asked him to stay nearby and help her during this difficult time.

Thibault proposed an idea: since he needed his designs for the estate soon and had to oversee the initiation of the renovation works, Yves could stay at the mansion while handling both tasks and caring for his father. Yves then contacted his office in Paris, and they agreed to the arrangement.

The next morning, Bernard found Yves already working when he brought breakfast. Yves politely declined, explaining that he never ate in the morning. He did, however, ask Bernard if they could go for a run together the following morning. Yves spent the rest of the morning focused on designs and plans, then helped his mother throughout the afternoon. When he returned, he found a note from Thibault mentioning that there was a quiche in the fridge and a nice bottle of rosé to pair with it.

Yves eagerly opened the bottle and warmed up the quiche in the oven. He settled himself on the porch, watching the sun dip behind the hills. As the breathtaking view unfolded, he became emotional and cried quietly. He realized how much he'd missed these simple, tranquil moments, but it was also painful to see his father slowly deteriorating.

Piece by piece, Yves ate the quiche. He wasn’t sure whether it was his emotions or the flavor, but it felt like the most delicious quiche he’d ever tasted—so much so that he finished the entire dish. A while later, Thibault returned home to find his adorable architect fast asleep on the porch sofa.

Yves stirred awake and quickly apologized for his greediness, admitting he'd been overwhelmed by emotions. Thibault chuckled, disappeared into the kitchen, and returned with a large chocolate pie. "No worries, chocolate will help," he said with a smile, handing Yves a generous slice.

Despite their best efforts, the cake was too big to finish. Both men headed to bed, completely stuffed and a little tipsy, leaving the rest for another sweet moment ahead.

The next morning Bernard knocked on Yves room to pick him up for a run but Yves declined. Bernard laughed and asked, did Thibault bring too much food and wine? Yves knotted and went to bed again. An hour and a half later Yves got woken up again, this time a hot sweaty Bernard brought him a croissant, and pain au chocolate and a fresh coffee, this will do the trick he said. Tomorrow we will try again.

The next morning, Yves was woken up again by Bernard, who was waiting with a bag of croissants and coffee. Yves was surprised that Bernard hadn't waited for him. Bernard explained that he had knocked but didn’t get an answer. On the third morning, Yves was ready to go. Even though the previous night’s meal had been heavy, he pushed himself to get moving. After the run, Thibault invited Yves to a meeting to review the plans. The table at the meeting was piled with croissants and delectable little cakes from a local bakery. Thibault devoured one treat after another, and unknowingly, Yves ended up eating six of them himself. After a week of keeping up with Thibault's pace, Yves noticed his shirt feeling a bit tighter than it had when he first arrived. When Yves checked the mirror that morning, he saw a layer of pudge over his six-pack—something he had never seen before.

When he came down for the meeting with Thibault to discuss the final plans, he overheard Thibault complaining to Bernard about how he had gained another 15 pounds in the last few weeks and that it had to change. He was struggling to tie his shoes and couldn’t even walk up the stairs without losing his breath. On top of that, JC was planning to visit soon, and he was embarrassed that he had gotten even fatter.

Yves and Thibault agreed on the final plans, and the next phase of the renovation could start soon. The main building could easily be converted into 10 large guestrooms, with a little bakery downstairs and a breakfast/tearoom. The stables could be transformed into a market shop, and above them, they would create a large room for wine tastings or private dinners.

Yves offered to bring in his cousin, a local contractor specializing in renovating French country houses. Thibault agreed, and they decided that his cousin would start with the stables to generate revenue sooner. That afternoon, Yves rushed away as his father's situation worsened.

Patrick, Yves’s cousin, arrived the next morning. Thibault was stunned—Patrick was the tallest and biggest man he had ever seen. While talking about the estate, they also shared details about their backgrounds. Patrick turned out to be the friendliest contractor Thibault had ever met. He shared that as a teenager, he had been a skinny kid, but he was now a hobbyist bodybuilder. A few weeks ago, Patrick had even competed on stage, though he decided that the spotlight wasn’t for him. He preferred to work on his body and focus on improving himself in his own time.

His dedication showed—a big guy with a well-built physique was the best way to describe Patrick.

Patrick was pleased to learn that he had been given permission to lead the renovation. He would be able to start the next morning, with his brother Louis joining him a few days later.

Yves called Thibault to inform him that his father would need more care and was expected to pass away within a few days. Thibault requested Bertrand to ensure the family had enough food for as long as they needed. Every morning, Yves held meetings with Thibault and Patrick to discuss planning and progress. Bertrand prepared amazing pastries and snacks and provided food packages for Yves to take to his father. Meanwhile, Patrick was served lunches and snacks during the course of the work.

A few days later, Louis arrived—another muscular guy. He wasn’t a bodybuilder like his brother, but it was clear he was no stranger to the gym, exuding strength in every sense. His loose tank top revealed much of his physique, the fabric shifting and opening slightly with every gust of wind. Louis had a bit more of a macho air than his brother, but he was just as friendly.

"That day, Yves also called to say that his father had passed away the previous night. He mentioned that he would stay a few days to help his mother arrange the funeral. Bertrand drove back and forth to ensure the family had everything they needed. Thibault and Bertrand even helped with catering for the funeral. Meanwhile, at the estate, the renovation was in full swing, and the crew was happy to be working for such a generous employer. However, both men realized they needed to pace themselves with the snacking, as their t-shirts were beginning to feel a bit snug."

After the funeral, Yves returned to the estate. He noticed that Thibault was completely drenched in sweat, dressed in a skin-tight gym uniform. Both were surprised to see each other. Thibault observed that Yves’ belly appeared significantly larger than it had been before the funeral, while Yves was equally surprised to find the wine farmer attempting to shed some weight. They both scrambled to make excuses for their respective physiques but soon burst into laughter, agreeing that it was all due to Bertrand's generous care and hospitality.

When Yves inspected the work at the estate, he concluded that his presence would be less necessary moving forward. Satisfied with this realization, he decided he could return to Paris and only visit the estate every few weeks for periodic inspections.

Thibault was nervous. He was much bigger than the last time he saw JP. Even though JP had assured him not to worry about his weight, the thought still nagged at him. When JP arrived, they immediately picked up right where they had left off a few months earlier—in bed. That weekend was a blur, filled with laughter, indulgence, and passion. They partied together with food and wine and had amazing sex.

JP had brought boxes filled with items for them to try, intending to sell them later in his market. In the end, all of Thibault’s worries about his weight turned out to be for nothing. JP didn’t even mention it, and if anything, the chemistry between them was stronger than ever—the sex was even better than Thibault remembered.

When Monday came, JP left with a heavy heart, knowing it might be a while before they saw each other again. Meanwhile, Thibault threw himself into his plans for his upcoming bakery. He began experimenting with recipes, and his two contractors became his happy and eager taste-testers. Lunchtime and snack breaks quickly turned into gourmet samplings, featuring sweets, pastries, cakes, breads—you name it.

Patrick, who had always worn tight t-shirts, saw them stretching tighter and tighter across his expanding frame. Louis, who preferred loose-fitting shirts, suddenly found a distinct bulge forming under his once-baggy attire. The two of them worked six days a week, spurred on by their desire to please their generous employer, but their growing waistlines were becoming impossible to ignore.

Privately, they began to worry. They knew they’d have to figure out how to say no to the endless parade of delicious goods they were offered, no matter how tempting—or risk their shirts betraying their secret to the world.

A few weeks later, Yves arrived back at the estate. Thibault immediately noticed that Yves had grown even bigger. Yves, in turn, was surprised to see his cousins looking so large. He made a remark, saying they had always been his “big cousins,” but he’d never seen them this big before. The cousins blushed but confidently retorted, pointing out Yves wasn’t in a position to talk. They asked what his excuse was. Yves blushed as well and admitted that after the funeral, he returned to Paris, where his girlfriend gave him an ultimatum: lose weight or break up. However, the emotional toll of his grief combined with stress at work made it impossible for him to lose the weight—and even ended up leaving him with a bigger belly.

During the inspection, Yves was pleased to see the rapid progress. Within a few days, the tasting room would be ready for use. With some guidance from a social media advisor, the room could be quickly booked. Yves also proposed the idea of inviting potential clients for tastings—architecture clients, as well as clients for the hotel and market—a win-win scenario.

Yves and Patrick discussed setting a deadline: the stables would need to be ready within four weeks. For this to happen, Patrick and Louis would need to work longer hours, but they agreed that, with the help of another contractor, it could be done. Patrick arranged for a third contractor—a painter he had worked with—to come in two days.

Thibault and Yves ventured into the cellars to brainstorm ideas for the tasting concept. Thibault opened a fine bottle of wine, while Bernard joined them with food pairing suggestions. Yves noted, jokingly, that Bernard was the only person on the estate who hadn't gained weight. In fact, Bernard had grown more muscular in recent months, replacing any signs of fat with lean strength.

They laughed about it, and Thibault and Yves made an agreement: they would both try to lose weight. The one who loses the most weight will win €1,000.

The next morning, they both stepped on the scale, took a picture, and sent it to Bernard so he could keep track of their progress. After a greasy hangover breakfast, Yves drove off with a big lunch package prepared by Bernard. Meanwhile, Thibault showed restraint and went to the gym with Bernard. He struggled during the workout but remained determined to lose weight. He craved the prestige of success and wanted to improve his physical fitness.

With a serious tone, Thibault told Bernard that he had to win that thousand bucks, no matter what. He passionately declared that if he won, he would give the money to Bernard, trusting him to make good use of it. Bernard already knew exactly what to do: he arranged for a variety of wine and food pairing packages to be delivered to Paris, requesting feedback on the market viability and tasting concepts.

Now, all they had to do was wait.

A few days later, the third contractor started — a cute, young, tiny guy with a strong build named Rene. Patrick and Louis warned him about the food supply, joking that if he didn’t watch out, he would end up getting fat like them. Rene wasn’t concerned, though; he planned to go for a run in the evenings after their shifts to stay in shape.

The days passed quickly, and the three builders were doing an outstanding job. Bernard was constantly checking to ensure they had everything they needed. As the deadline approached and word spread about Thibault's innovative concept, more and more suppliers delivered their goods to the estate, hoping to have their products added to the exclusive sales list. Every item was meticulously curated by Thibault and Bernard. Premium, exclusive goods were sent to Yves in Paris, while the leftovers were generously shared with the builders, who were eager to sample the diverse specialties from across the country.

A few days before the deadline, Yves returned to assist with the final preparations at the estate. He was greeted by a slimmer Thibault—a transformation Yves hadn't thought possible, as he never imagined Thibault would lose even a single gram, let alone have such a noticeable change. Yves, on the other hand, had grown larger yet again.

He was embarrassed but realized he had lost the bet and promised to get some cash soon. He did ask how Thibault had lost the weight. Thibault told him that he had hired a personal trainer and had forbidden Bernard to cook for him. And the trainer was hot, so that helped. Bernard had trained with Thibault too and had gotten bigger as well. But to Yves’ surprise, Bernard had not only gained more muscle but also a bit of a belly. Thibault joked that all the food he refused must have gone somewhere, obviously.

Together, they went for another inspection. What Yves found was a stable that was almost ready and only needed a finishing touch. However, what surprised him more were his cousins. They had gained a massive amount of weight during his absence. Patrick's shirts were now skintight and stretched to the max. Whenever he bent over, he would groan, and when he reached for something, his belly became exposed. It was hard to believe this was once the body of a bodybuilder.

Louis had grown a thick beard that his his double chin and his former wide shirts now looked like a tent big a big ball gut underneath it.

And also the tiny painter wasn’t spared, the running didn’t work and also Rene was showing a thick laywer of fat underneath his tighter shirt.

Yves didn't mention it, as there was no time to lose. The first guests would arrive in two days, and so they worked tirelessly, day and night, to meet their deadline. Half an hour before the first guests arrived, Yves was still cleaning, sweat dripping from his forehead. His new weight was challenging, and he’d had to buy a new wardrobe since nothing fit him anymore.

The first tasting was a success, leaving everyone wanting more. Yves had agreed with his firm that he would need to spend more time in his birth region since the new potential clients were also from the countryside. Thibault was delighted with the outcome, while the builders, worn out from their efforts, deserved a well-earned break before the next phase began.

After their well-deserved break, everyone gathered at the estate again, refreshed and ready to continue. The focus now shifted to the main building, which included 10 bedrooms, a bakery, and a breakfast room. Thibault’s private quarters were next on the list for renovation. The renovations were scheduled to take a total of eight weeks, during which Thibault planned to depart the next morning and stay with JP for a minimum of four weeks. His agenda included meeting suppliers, seeking out specialties, preparing menus, and tasting new and exclusive wines for pairing.

Bernard was tasked with overseeing the estate, while Yves was entrusted with managing the renovations and taking care of the clients. Together, they devised a very tight plan to ensure everything ran smoothly. Bernard would need to take on additional responsibilities, including handling logistics for building supplies and selecting new furniture—on top of his regular duties. Yves and his cousins teased him about his workload, joking that this was "payback" and pointing out that Bernard wouldn’t have any time to work out in the coming weeks. Bernard laughed sheepishly, realizing they were right.

Understanding the demands he was placing on his team, Thibault decided to organize a dinner as a team-building event. He wanted to show his appreciation and ensure everyone stayed motivated. The next morning, it was Thibault—rather than Bernard—who prepared breakfast for the entire team. Bernard, surprised to see his boss up so early, appreciated the thoughtful gesture, especially his packed meal for the day ahead, as he would be spending long hours on the road.

Thibault then departed for his one-month break to focus on preparing for the hotel’s grand opening. Before leaving, he gave Yves the directive to make sure everyone at the estate had everything they needed over the next four weeks, regardless of cost. Yves embraced this new responsibility with enthusiasm. Having already arranged several wine tastings, he was excited to see the growing interest from potential clients. Word had even spread beyond the town, with the media eager to follow the progress of the Parisian architect making waves in the small community.

Every day at breakfast, before starting their work, the team would begin with a FaceTime call. Thibault was updated on the progress and the general atmosphere. They occasionally complained, but most of the time, things were going well. He was pleasantly surprised to see Bernard eating a croissant—a sight he hadn’t witnessed in years. Yves would prepare Bernard’s car with food, just as he would for others. During the first few days, the food was only half eaten, but by the second week, there were no leftovers. Was Thibault imagining it, or were Bernard’s compression shirts getting tighter and tighter?

 As the weeks went by, the tension continued to build. The days grew longer, and Yves watched as his cousins became increasingly exhausted. Their newfound weight certainly didn’t help, but the sweets and fats ensured they had enough energy to make it through each day.

Yves's mood gradually changed too; all the client meetings, food prepping, and wine tastings were becoming a burden. The summer heat made him sweat constantly, and the lack of exercise left him out of breath all the time. Normally, he would walk and bike through half the city of Paris every day, but the countryside was larger and more spread out. He felt uncomfortable all the time but realized things would change soon.

After the fourth week, it was only a matter of details. Thibault announced that he would return late in the evening and planned to test the rooms. He arrived late and didn’t want to wake anyone.

The next morning, when he came downstairs, he was warmly welcomed by Yves and served a breakfast befitting a guest. Thibault was surprised to notice Yves’ new weight; his slight waddle and bouncing belly caught his attention. But who was he to judge?

Yves, on the other hand, was equally surprised to see that Thibault had lost even more weight. JP had ensured Thibault lived a healthy lifestyle, even taking him to the gym regularly during his culinary studies.

When the builders arrived, he started laughing. He turned to Yves and said, "You really took it literally when I said 'whatever it takes.' I wonder what the food bill will be."

Patrick was enormous—a man with a large hanging belly and massive arms wrapped in a thick layer of fat. His chest rested on his belly, and his t-shirt looked ready to rip apart.

Louis' once-athletic body was now covered in hair and fat. His belly protruded like a ball, and his formerly loose t-shirts were now a few sizes too small.

Also Rene had beefed up quiet a bit. The short muscular  handsome man had now a chubby belly and his t-shirt could hardly contain it.

Thibault offered them coffee and was eager to see the results. They were happy to show them to him. They were all breathing heavily as they climbed the stairs, but the renovation was a success. There were some details to fix here and there, but it was worth all the effort.

When Thibault came down the stairs, he was met with a familiar scene: a sweaty Bernard clutching a bag of croissants. Bernard had just returned from a run, completely out of breath. But something was different this time. Bernard now had chubby cheeks, a double chin, and his compression shirt revealed a rather sizable belly—unexpected for someone who used to run so often. What was even more surprising was that Bernard was eating the croissants himself.

"I'm telling you, this will be my last one," Bernard assured him, though he seemed almost embarrassed. "It got out of hand. This is the first run I've done after a month of doing nothing but driving and eating."

Thibault listened, eyebrows slightly raised, but soon turned his attention to a more positive thought. The hotel was finally ready to welcome guests, and the hard work had paid off. Thibault felt proud, and it was clear his team shared in the satisfaction. Everyone was happy.

[namrar]

Unemployment

I’ve been living in an apartment building in the Hollywood Hills for a few years now. It has six apartments and a setup somewhat similar to Melrose Place. I work as a screenwriter, which allows me to live comfortably with a lot of freedom.

I have two neighbors who live in the building permanently: Norma, an 80-year-old lady who has done very well for herself post-divorce, and Eric, a very handsome finance consultant. He’s probably around 30 years old and has a physique to die for. His chest is disproportionately wide, and his waist is remarkably narrow.

In the three years I’ve lived here, I’ve only seen him a handful of times. He typically leaves the building around 6 a.m., wearing a tight tank top and gray sweatpants, carrying his gym bag, with his suit and shirt hanging on a hanger and expensive shoes in his hands.

He drives an old-timer convertible Porsche and arrives home late, dressed immaculately in a crisp white tailored shirt. He’s like a walking, living, breathing dream. We chatted once on a scorching hot weekend when he had just gotten out of the pool to cool off. I could hardly contain myself—my nerves got the better of me, making me shy as we spoke. He didn’t seem to notice, though; he kept chatting away effortlessly, like this was just another day for him. He probably gets that reaction all the time.

One evening at Norma’s, during a casual dinner, I noticed several plastic food containers neatly stacked on the counter. Norma explained that she prepares meals for Eric every week. She told me that when he first moved into the building, fresh out of university, he barely had enough money to make ends meet. Now he’s thriving, earning big bucks, and he repays her kindness by supporting her generously. They’ve made an arrangement: if Norma becomes too old or incapable of living independently, Eric promises to ensure she can remain in the building for the rest of her life. In return, Norma cooks carefully balanced meals that adhere to his strict diet. She added that he checks in on her every morning and evening to make sure she’s doing well—he genuinely cares for her.

I have a suspicion that Eric might be gay. Occasionally, I spot adorable twinks entering the building, though my view doesn’t allow me to see exactly where they go or when they leave. Perhaps they’re staying in one of the other three apartments that are often rented out as Airbnbs—I really can’t say for certain.

One Saturday morning, I saw Eric sitting on a chair by the pool. I said hi and left, not thinking much of it. When I got back that afternoon, I saw him again. It seemed odd—I had never run into him this often in such a short amount of time.

The following Monday morning, I saw him once more. I said, “Hey, Eric, I’ve never seen you this often. All good?”

He responded, “Hey, man. Nah, not really. I got fired effective immediately. Just trying to figure things out now.”

I felt sorry for him and invited him to join me for dinner that night. When he arrived, he was wearing a fancy polo shirt that accentuated his pecs and arms, along with a pair of chinos. For the first time, I noticed how well-shaped his physique was, especially his muscular build and fit appearance.

I also invited Norma to dinner, and she brought along a homemade cheesecake. The three of us chatted away and ended up a bit tipsy. Norma regaled us with stories about her time in Europe, her glamorous days partying with royals and movie stars. She told us about marrying a wealthy film producer who cheated on her after only a few years. Their divorce settlement left her with millions. After that, she turned her focus to charity, raising substantial amounts of money for various foundations. She also donated generously but ensured she kept enough to live comfortably.

Eric opened up about losing his job. His employer had been arrested for money laundering, something Eric had nothing to do with. However, they’d pressured him to lie to the District Attorney to help his boss avoid conviction. They even offered him a few million dollars to do it, but Eric was too honest. Instead, he refused and was promptly fired. As a concession, they gave him hush money—equivalent to three years’ full salary. Eric wasn’t particularly stressed about money, but he admitted he felt a bit lost about what to do next. He realized that the breakneck pace of his previous job wasn’t sustainable and that he no longer wanted to work in such a corporate environment.

Later in the evening, Norma presented her cheesecake. At first, Eric declined, but Norma didn't take no for an answer—especially not from her foster son. Being a little tipsy, Eric finally gave in and served himself a slice. Turns out, he enjoyed it so much that he even went back for a second piece! He confessed that he hadn’t had proper cheesecake in years because of how strictly he maintained his body as his temple.

Every morning during the following week, as I left for work, I saw Eric sitting by the pool, drinking his morning coffee. He was looking for jobs that interested him—part-time positions to help him figure out his path forward. No more finance.

After a week, I asked him if he was getting out of the house occasionally. He confessed that he felt a little scared. His entire identity had been built around his career. Now that he didn't have a purpose driving him, he felt uncomfortable going out and interacting with people. Even back in school, he hadn't really made friends. His life had revolved around good grades, gym routines, and, later, his career: deadline after deadline, target after target, bonus after bonus. He hadn’t even realized how much money he'd saved over the years because he seldom spent much. He could easily live for many years without an income if he wanted to.

But the weight of loneliness had hit him hard—33 years old, single, no friends, and no one to share his life with. Now, he was even afraid to leave the house for a cup of coffee. He admitted he had never learned how to be social.

I invited him to join me for a gym session and coffee afterward. Even in the gym—his sanctuary—I noticed he wasn’t social. He greeted the staff at the desk with a polite "hi," but then focused entirely on his workout. His movements were precise and deliberate. Muscle after muscle seemed to come to life with every rep he did, making it impossible not to notice him. Others at the gym seemed to notice him too. I caught glimpses of people admiring him, even trying to spark a conversation, but he simply nodded politely and moved on, staying in his own world.

Afterward, we went for coffee. I decided to get a brownie, but Eric ordered a green protein shake. I couldn’t help but grin and said, "No wonder you’ve got such a sculpted body, while my abs are fighting for their lives to stay visible." He chuckled and said, "You’re right. I can live a little." Then, to my surprise, he added, "I’ll have a cheesecake instead—there’s protein in that, right?"

When his cheesecake arrived, he practically inhaled it, which made me laugh. I jokingly told him he should order more if he was that hungry. To my surprise, he actually agreed and ordered a brownie as well.

As he savored the treat, he said, "I said no to life’s good things far too often these past few years."

The next morning, I saw him at the pool again. He told me he was giving online consultancy to one of his old clients—a nice gig that would pay well. When I returned that afternoon, he was still at the pool, in his tank top with messy hair. I told him to freshen up so we could have a drink at a gay bar. His cheeks turned red, and he stammered, asking how I knew he was gay. I hadn’t known for sure, I told him, but I had my suspicions. I suggested we take Norma with us.

He looked great in his casual attire—his taste was impeccable. He mentioned that he had hired a stylist who brought him new pieces every month. He seemed nervous at first as we walked into the gay bar; surprisingly, it was his first time in one. Curious, I asked if he’d been in any relationships. He admitted that he’d had some dates from Tinder, usually inviting them over to his place. However, it never went beyond casual hookups—they wanted sex and left afterward. It wasn’t his thing, but he couldn’t figure out why it never developed into anything more meaningful.

I brought us some shots, and we started dancing. Norma stole the spotlight, charming everyone around her. After a few drinks, she said she wanted to go home. I agreed, but Eric decided to stay. I told him to be careful and left.

The next morning, I didn’t see Eric. When I came back later that morning, I spotted him at the pool. He was sitting at a table with a big takeout box, eating a greasy breakfast burrito. As we chatted, he mentioned staying out and dancing until closing time the previous night. Apparently, he had brought home a young guy but fell asleep as soon as he saw his bed, and the guy must have left early.

It seemed like I had opened up a whole new world for Eric. A few times a week, he started joining me for coffee, lunch, or dinner, and I often saw him heading out in the evenings, all dressed up. Occasionally, I even noticed him coming home with another young twink. At some point, I couldn’t help but think that Eric was starting to look more… beefy. Not fat by any means, but his frame had definitely filled out a bit—it was noticeable.

A week later, he was back at the pool, and my suspicions were confirmed: Eric had indeed gained some weight. His belly appeared slightly bloated. As I looked at him, I felt a sensation I had never experienced before—a sort of click. I suddenly wanted to feel his body against mine. The thought was so unexpected that my dick even stirred a bit. I quickly snapped out of the daydream when Eric greeted me with a cheerful “Good morning, neighbor!”

He went on to explain that he was heading to the gym. “It’s time to get into a healthy routine again,” he said. “I’ve got a job lined up for a client and can work from home now. If I don’t get up from my chair, I’ll grow fat in no time.”

The idea of him growing bigger made me unexpectedly horny, but I tried to shrug it off.

Later that night, Norma joined me for dinner again. Eric stopped by too, and I had made lasagna. I offered him some, but he declined, mentioning that he already had one of Norma’s meal preps. “I’ve gained 10 pounds since losing my job,” he admitted, “so I need to turn that around.”

Despite his refusal, I gave him a big leftover piece for his freezer. I told him it would easily last for two or even three meals. He smiled as he accepted it.

A week later, during lunch with my agent Kelly, she told me she had an idea for a new concept. We had worked together for many years, and she had gotten me plenty of good scripts to write. But Kelly also managed TikTok stars, helping them become famous. She was on the lookout for a fitness guy who also had a strong grasp of finance—“a thirst trap who’s smart too,” she smirked.

I recommended Eric and showed her his Instagram profile. She remarked that his profile was boring but saw his potential. I introduced them, and while Kelly was excited, Eric wasn’t. He told us he thought social media was superficial. I explained to him that he could make a lot of money leveraging both his looks and his intelligence. “Nonsense,” he said. “I don’t even have a six-pack, and no one wants to look at a nerd like me.”

I proposed a deal: if I could get him 10,000 likes on his first TikTok video, he’d give it a shot; otherwise, he could turn Kelly down. We decided to call the account MyHotFinanceNeighbor. I told him to trust me—I’d film him “secretly.” The plan was simple: he would get out of the pool, answer his phone, sit behind his laptop, and discuss fictional finance topics. Eric skeptically asked if his love handles would ruin the video. I assured him that plenty of people would kill for a body like his, even with love handles. He followed my instructions, I edited the clip, and Kelly worked her magic with hashtags before we uploaded it.

That evening, we opened a bottle of wine, had some snacks, and forgot about the whole TikTok experiment. After finishing the second bottle, Eric went back to his apartment. The next morning, he sat by the pool nursing a wine-induced headache and confessed he'd devoured the lasagna I gave him the night before. Then Kelly called, and I put her on speaker. She was ecstatic.

“That clip you posted of Eric yesterday—it blew up! 300,000 views and 75,000 likes!” Kelly exclaimed. “We have a new star and concept!”

Eric started to panic. Did he really want this? He knew he'd need to get in shape and get his life in order to keep up appearances. I suggested we try another clip. This time, I told him to go shirtless, do some pushups, sit behind his laptop, and make it look like he was talking to someone online. Eric hesitated, but Kelly said, “I’ll call you on FaceTime and ask financial questions.”

We filmed, edited, and posted the clip. To celebrate, Eric and Kelly went out for lunch. Eric ordered a big Philly steak sandwich, while Kelly got champagne to toast the success. They stayed out all afternoon, and later joined Norma back at home, where she was making brisket. I was full and only nibbled on a few bites, but Eric devoured his portion like he hadn’t eaten in days, stuffing himself with abandon.

The next morning, Kelly stopped by the building carrying a celebratory cake that read: 1 Million Views, 200,000 Likes, and 50,000 Followers! We all had a big slice. Kelly then offered Eric an influencer contract.

Eric couldn’t believe it. Not too long ago, he’d been living a corporate life, and now a whole new world had opened up for him. He signed the contract happily, and Kelly asked me to write a few scripts for Eric’s TikTok videos. I was glad to help.

The following morning, I found Eric eating the leftover cake—there were only one or two pieces left. He blushed when he saw me.

“I’m stress eating,” he admitted. “I’m panicking about all this. And I think I’m getting too fat. Until I lose some weight, I’m not going shirtless anymore. I’ve seen myself—I’m fat, and I’m ashamed. People keep commenting on my dad bod, saying they like it, but I don’t want a dad bod! I’ve never had a dad bod!”

"Okay," I said, "from now on, we’ll only film a few clips with you fully dressed. Once you’ve lost the weight, we can go back to filming you shirtless again."

Norma prepared a big breakfast for her foster son. She made chicken and waffles and smiled, happy to see Eric finally eating something more substantial than just rabbit food. Despite enjoying the hearty meal, Eric later begged her to make the carrot dish he loved again for the next morning’s breakfast. She agreed—but only after he had a stack of pancakes first. Eric couldn’t resist.

The next morning, I knocked on Eric’s door, but he didn’t open. Just as I was about to leave, I heard footsteps in the building—he was coming up the stairs. Sweat was dripping from his body; his tank top was soaked, and even his gray sweatpants had massive sweat stains in the front and back. He was slurping the last bit of a protein shake as he walked toward his door, completely oblivious to the fact that his appearance was, frankly, mesmerizing.

“That sight was perfect,” I told him with a grin. “Do that again.”

Curious but obliging, Eric followed me into my apartment. I grabbed some protein powder, shook it up with milk, and handed it to him. “Come back in,” I said, setting up my phone to “secretly” film him. “Pretend like you’re on the phone with a client, casually talking about how intense your workout was. Oh, and keep drinking the shake.”

Eric chuckled but went along with my instructions. He played it flawlessly—his sweaty, captivating presence paired with an unassuming charm that screamed viral potential. The moment I whispered “cut,” he surprised me by pulling his tank top off. Naturally, I kept filming.

Still shirtless, Eric walked over to the pool, jumped in with his workout pants still on, and leaned back to relax as if he was in a commercial for living your best life. I started editing the footage later that day and noticed something. All that indulging—from the big meals and protein shakes—was starting to catch up with him. His belly had grown noticeably rounder, his chest had lost some of its definition, and his edgy, sculpted face had softened. His messy hair added to the transformation.

Don’t get me wrong—Eric was still hot. But he wasn’t the Eric I had first met. Regardless, I decided to post the clip anyway. It blew up.

Suddenly, we were flooded with messages from people wanting to hire him as a digital consultant. Even podcast hosts were asking him to be a guest on their shows. It wasn’t time yet to let the audience know about the scheme behind our collaboration. The clip spread like wildfire and brought in more followers and views than either of us imagined.

I told him I needed a few days to write some scripts to keep the engagement rolling. In the meantime, I suggested he hit the gym, clean up his diet, and focus on handling the increasing client requests. But as the days passed, I noticed that Eric had settled into a new routine. He’d sit by the pool, laptop in hand, diligently taking finance calls. It was his element. He looked confident, even polished, despite the muffin Norma often brought him during his calls—a muffin he devoured without hesitation.

It became a familiar sight: Eric, near the pool, munching on oversized snacks, while effortlessly closing deals.

After a few days of planning, I was ready to present him with the scripts. When Eric stood in front of me, I couldn’t help but notice his belly had grown bigger yet again. His previously chiseled frame now carried a more relaxed, fuller look.

“I’ve got the scripts ready,” I said enthusiastically, then paused. “But, uh, I wrote some shirtless scenes…”

Eric’s cheeks flushed. He shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t think I can do those,” he admitted sheepishly. “I haven’t lost any weight—actually, I’ve gained more. I don’t think I can go shirtless right now.”

I sighed, realizing I’d need to rewrite the scripts to accommodate his changes. A part of me couldn’t help but admire the evolution of the Eric I knew—from the flawless fitness model to the relatable, slightly self-conscious neighbor.

The next morning, we started filming. We decided to come clean and tell the followers how it all began. The feedback was great. Eric went live for a Q&A session, and it turned out to be very friendly and engaging. That night, we went back to Norma's for dinner. She had prepared a feast to celebrate her foster kid and his budding new career.

The following morning, I watched Eric leave for the gym, now visibly bulkier than before. When he returned, drenched in sweat, he was slurping on a massive protein shake. He settled down by the pool, where he dove into live Q&A sessions with his followers. Later, when Norma brought him a steak sandwich for lunch, he introduced her to his audience. It all felt so natural. After lunch, Eric stretched out on one of the pool loungers with his laptop open, responding to the endless questions his followers were sending on social media. In the meantime, Norma brought him snacks several times throughout the afternoon.

This routine continued for a few days, until we resumed filming. Eric seemed relaxed, but I was starting to feel a little concerned. He was clearly bigger than before—his belly had noticeably grown, and his overall physique had taken on a more rugged appearance. His beard had filled out after weeks of not shaving, and his hair, now longer and shaggier than it had ever been, added to his unkempt look. On the upside, though, he was developing a nice tan.

 

I tried to share my observations with him, but he just shrugged them off. He was convinced that his trips to the gym were working and was confident he was losing weight. Norma was only bringing healthy food, so he felt he was on track. I asked him when we'd film shirtless clips again, and he replied, "As soon as my six-pack is visible again." In the meantime, we focused on creating other content.

Norma checked in almost every hour, bringing refreshments and snacks. I kept skipping them, but Eric was constantly eating. Something wasn’t adding up—I hadn’t seen him return from the gym in a while. I finally confronted him, and he admitted he was feeling too much pressure from his followers. He felt the need to quickly answer their questions, which was taking up his gym time. But, he admitted I was right: he needed to go to the gym more often.

However, even when he went to the gym, it turned into a live Q&A session. Fans who had seen his workout clips would chat with him in person, and these interactions stretched his "workouts" into two-hour visits with barely any weightlifting. The gym owner enjoyed the attention these interactions brought and even started giving Eric large protein shakes after his visits, hoping his gym’s logo would appear in Eric’s clips. Ironically, this led to even more weight gain.

His live Q&A sessions turned into hour-long events. We decided to organize them around specific themes, and people started paying to join private groups. He hosted those sessions from the pool, and as the days went on, he became noticeably more tanned. Norma kept a steady supply of heavy breakfasts, lunches, and sweet snacks flowing his way.

I decided to join him at the gym one day—it would make for great content, and I figured I could encourage him to get a proper workout. When we arrived, he was handed a large shake, which he eagerly drank. That’s when I noticed just how much strength and muscle mass he had lost. Even a set of push-ups left him short of breath.

Meanwhile, the gym owner approached to check if he needed anything. He mentioned that he had finished his shake, and shortly after, the owner brought him another one. When that was gone, a third shake appeared not long after. I asked him what was in them, and he casually replied that they were just muscle gainers.

On our fifteen-minute walk back, I was surprised by how much the heat and sun affected him. He was sweating profusely and completely out of breath. I suggested he consider hiring a personal trainer—not only to help him stay focused but also to keep him away from those shakes. He dismissed my concerns, confidently insisting he knew what he was doing.

When we got back, Norma was already waiting with a large plate of eggs and bacon for him. He ate it during one of his live sessions, and as he lounged afterward, Norma brought him homemade cookies, a slice of carrot cake, and a brownie. Lunch was a tuna melt, and dinner was a hearty bowl of spaghetti and meatballs.

The filming continued in the days that followed, but his schedule didn’t change. By the time we headed to the gym again a few days later, he was noticeably bigger and even more tanned. His beard had grown thicker, and his hair had become unruly. I had to admit, though—it suited him. He looked strikingly manly.

When we got to the gym, they gave him his regular order. Eric went in, and I asked what he was having. They said it was specifically designed for bodybuilders who were bulking. He had been ordering that same drink for years after his workouts; it worked for him back then as he had a body to die for. But now, with his diet slipping and no proper fitness schedule, he really shouldn’t be drinking them anymore. We offered to switch it to a lighter alternative, but he refused — and now he sometimes drinks three of them! At 700 calories each, I couldn’t believe it. 2,100 calories in one sitting? I was speechless. This had to stop.

When we started the workout, he pulled something in his back and couldn’t continue — he had to go home early. Back at the house, he went straight back to his routine: live sessions, answering questions, while Norma kept bringing him food. It was as if he was under some kind of hypnosis. I couldn’t get through to him about his health.

The next day, after his trip to the doctor, he came home angry. The doctor had told him he needed to lose weight and get some rest. He blamed it all on stress. What followed over the next few days was pure madness. Every morning, he planted himself on a lounger and didn’t lift a finger all day. Meanwhile, Norma seemed to be increasing her constant flow of food to him. His belly was always bloated, and within two weeks, his weight began to skyrocket.

I noticed his followers were starting to ask questions about where he was, but he completely ignored them. Then one morning, Kelly came over to check on him and see what had happened to her talent. She found him by the pool, snacking on a blueberry muffin. She was shocked by how much weight he had gained.

“You’ve gotten fat,” she yelled. “You don’t wash your hair, and your beard is gross! It even has pieces of food in it! The only thing you have going for you is your tan!”

When I return tomorrow, you will have cleaned yourself up and called a personal trainer. She left. When he saw me, he started crying. "All of this social media is new to me, and it’s giving me anxiety," he says. "My work was my life, my structure, and that is gone now. I feel like I need to take some proper rest and reinvent myself. You need to convince Kelly to let me take two weeks off from everything. I promise I’ll get back to my routine and get my life in order."

That night, I saw a large delivery of Mexican food being brought into the building. I couldn’t tell where it was going, but I suspected it was for Eric. The next morning, I didn’t see Eric at all. The first thing I noticed was Norma carrying a container of food toward Eric’s apartment, and not much later, I saw a delivery of Dunkin’ Donuts arrive at the building.

Around 2 p.m., Norma walked by again with another container of food headed to Eric, and about an hour later, another delivery guy showed up with a big box of food. The same sequence repeated that night as well.

The following morning, I saw Eric leaving the building in his gym wear. About 30 minutes later, he returned with a protein shake and a Starbucks bag. He planted himself by the pool, wearing his AirPods, and his bloated belly was visibly bulging over his waistband, which looked at least two sizes too small. He was munching on a Starbucks brownie while his skin appeared even more tanned. Watching this sight gave me an unexpected reaction—I found myself turned on. I had never felt this way about larger guys before. I’ve always preferred my boyfriends to be at least somewhat fit.

For lunch and dinner, Norma continued bringing him large plates of food, accompanied by cans of Coke and Mountain Dew. Whenever I greeted him, he would wave back but quickly turn his head away again. This pattern went on for several days. While the thought of him growing even fatter stirred something in me, I knew this couldn’t continue. I wanted to intervene—he needed to get a hold of himself.

After a few days, I decided to bring Norma’s food container over and knocked on Eric’s door. He yelled, "It’s open," from inside. When I stepped in, he was standing there in his underwear, which dug uncomfortably into his flesh, emphasizing his size in a way that made him look even bigger and more out of shape than I’d expected. He turned red when he saw me—clearly, he had been expecting Norma instead.

I asked him how he was doing. He replied with a simple, "Fine." When I inquired about what he’d been up to, he shrugged and said, "Nothing. Just enjoying my free time." Eric explained that he was taking some time to figure out what he wanted, but also casually mentioned that social media wasn’t really his thing anymore. I suggested we try going to the gym together, but he declined, saying he needed a break from everything.

"The years spent as a prisoner to my diet and routine," he admitted, "made me just want to relax… The freedom to eat what I want, when I want, is really making me happy right now. And waking up with no obligations? It's amazing." There was a certain relief in hearing him be honest with himself. I assured him I supported his choices, though I couldn’t help but still see potential for his social media career. "Give me some time," he replied, and I decided to go with the flow and see where things led.

That evening, I invited him out for drinks, promising not to bring up work. To my surprise, he gladly accepted. Later that morning, I found him planted by the pool when I returned from a few meetings. Cans of Coke and empty food containers were scattered around him—a clear testament to his indulgence.

“What do you want for dinner?” I asked.

He grinned and replied, "I already ordered Chinese for both of us—and invited Norma to join, too."

Norma arrived later with a homemade carrot cake, just as Eric came in with three boxes of food. As he unloaded, our entire dining table was covered. We began eating, but Norma and I called it quits after reloading our plates twice. Eric, though, kept going, as if in a trance. Plate after plate disappeared, and soon he had eaten enough for at least six people. Strangely, I found myself aroused by his voracious appetite.

To my surprise, he leaned back and said, "Dessert next!" Norma and I barely managed small slices of the carrot cake, but Eric devoured one huge slice after another. By his fourth piece, I opened a second bottle of wine. Norma left shortly after, and I poured myself a small amount while filling Eric's glass to the brim. He gulped it down, and when I offered him another slice of cake, he eagerly accepted.

“This would be even better with vanilla ice cream,” he said offhandedly.

I fetched a tub from the freezer, and Eric yelled toward the kitchen, "Make it a big scoop—and whipped cream if you have it!" I obliged and watched as he polished off his second bowl of ice cream alongside the carrot cake. He leaned back, rubbing his bloated belly, his breathing heavier now—and, to my surprise, I noticed something. A bulge. He blushed and muttered, “This always happens when I overeat…”

Tipsy and emboldened, I offered to give him a blowjob. He hesitated before lowering his pants, revealing the biggest dick I had ever seen. Within seconds of putting him in my mouth, he came, shuddering with pleasure before falling asleep on my sofa.

The next morning, I found him still sleeping, his bloated belly unchanged from the night before. He stirred when I started frying eggs, and I served him a massive breakfast. As I watched him shovel scrambled eggs in as though he hadn’t eaten in days, the attraction stirred again. After breakfast, I gave him another blowjob, and he invited me to join him at the pool.

Norma appeared at the pool that morning as well, serving him yet another breakfast—unaware he had already eaten. She had made a towering stack of pancakes smothered in butter and maple syrup, which he demolished before I could even claim a bite.

The coming week loomed busy for me, and I knew I wouldn’t see him much. Every other day, though, Eric texted, asking me to come up. Each time, I would serve him a big bowl of ice cream, followed by a blowjob, and then he’d leave. Occasionally, I’d catch glimpses of him around the building or at the pool, always eating, his size seeming to grow visibly before my eyes.

After three weeks, we finally had time for a proper date again. He invited me out to dinner, choosing a steakhouse not far from where we lived. I suggested we walk there, but he quickly dismissed the idea, saying the temperature would be too much for him. Instead, we took his Porsche.

When I opened my front door, he was standing there, wearing a tight white button-down shirt that strained against his chest and belly. He explained, somewhat sheepishly, that it was the only shirt he owned that could still close. His jeans were another story—he couldn’t fasten them properly, so he'd cinched them with a belt on its very last hole to keep them in place. As he lowered himself into the car, the buttons of his shirt gave up entirely, popping open with a loud tear. He sighed and told me to wait while he ran back inside to change.

Nearly twenty minutes passed before he returned, forehead beaded with sweat from the effort. He had swapped the ruined shirt for an old polo, which stretched to its limits over his rounded stomach. It was the only piece of clothing he could find that looked vaguely decent and still covered him when he was standing—though when he sat, the fabric rode up slightly, exposing a sliver of his belly. I chose not to comment.

At the restaurant, he wasted no time. Before we even sat down, he ordered tacos with guacamole and extra cheese and asked the waitress to move us from a booth to a regular table, saying a booth would be too cramped. He ordered an espresso martini and a charcuterie board to pair.

Though I kept it light with a salad and chicken schnitzel, Eric opted for a mountain of food. As his starter, he chose both chicken tenders and chicken wings. For his main, he casually ordered a 2-pound entrecôte steak with béarnaise sauce, explicitly meant for sharing—but he did so without batting an eye. He also requested extra garlic bread with dips.

During the starters, he excitedly told me about a new job offer he received. It was with an investment fund that focused on startups, where his role would involve reviewing pitches, evaluating financials, and working mostly from home. It sounded perfect for him, given his personality and lifestyle.

Meanwhile, his eating was relentless. While I was still nibbling at my salad, he finished both starters and ordered a pasta dish to tide him over until the main course arrived. His pace left me stunned; I could barely get a word in.

When the main dishes came, he added a large bowl of mashed potatoes and French fries on the side. At some point, he switched from espresso martinis to Mountain Dew, and the waitress kept refilling his glass—it was already on its third round. As he ate, his polo rode up further, revealing his belly button and the thick love handles that pressed against the armrests of his chair. He devoured the steak with vigor, leaving the bone clean.

I was still finishing my schnitzel when he ordered coffee and a brownie, claiming the meat had made him sleepy. I declined dessert, assuming the brownie was his final treat—but I was wrong. It was merely a warm-up; soon after, he ordered both cheesecake and tiramisu. I could hardly believe it, but the waitstaff accommodated him without hesitation, keeping his Mountain Dew topped off the entire time.

After settling the bill, he said he wanted to head home. When we got back, he followed me upstairs, undressed himself, and lay naked on the bed, his belly round and bloated yet his arousal unmistakable. He told me to fetch him some ice cream to "wash all the food down." As he ate, I gave him a blowjob, his dominant energy sending shivers up my spine.

The next morning, he woke me early, saying he was hungry again. I rushed into the kitchen to fry him eggs and bacon. When he finished eating, he told me to undress—and before I could fully process what was happening, I felt him take me from behind. His dominance was mesmerizing. The man who had once been unsure of what he wanted now knew exactly how to take control, and I found myself surrendering to his will. I liked it.

When we were finished, he went down to the pool, where Norma—a housekeeper we'd hired—brought him his second breakfast. He spent the day lounging poolside, working on his new job, his hair scruffy, his tan deepening, and his body steadily growing larger.

As our relationship deepened, he moved in with me, renting out his apartment. Together, Norma and I made sure he had everything he wanted—Norma catered to his snacks, while I prepared his meals and fulfilled all of his other desires. Watching him grow bigger and more dominant kept me in a constant state of arousal. I found myself living for his touch, longing for the weight of his ever-larger body pressing down on me, the intensity of his gaze, and the commanding way he took me.

I didn’t know what the future held, but I knew one thing: I’d do anything to keep him satisfied.

[namrar]

His new weight is not ready for Summer

[namrar]

Pool sightings

[namrar]

[namrar]

Gear upgrade

[namrar]

Grovel at my feet

[namrar]

Giant Toilet Fart

[namrar]

Overweight slob to Muscular God

(This is my first time writing in a while so I apologise for any mistakes as I’m still a bit rusty, if you are interested in more transformations or hypnosis stories feel free to suggest any ideas you have)

Mike had been working out for months, foregoing all the foods he enjoyed and spending hours sweating in the gym doing anything and everything to get the body he desired, but nothing was working.

He hated looking in the mirror and the sniggering from his coworkers and friends as they would see him eating a salad or heading to the gym as if his attempts to get in shape made him some sort of sideshow attraction filled him with frustration.

Mike threw his towel and protein shake onto the gym floor as he slumped onto the bench growing more and more irritated at his lack of progress.

“Perhaps I can give you a few pointers my friend ?”

Mike whipped his head around angrily ready to yell at the unknown voice to piss off with his useless advice he didn’t ask for but upon seeing the man his words got caught in his throat and he was unable to speak as he was now face to face with the most muscular man he had ever met.

“My name is Mike”

Mike managed to mumble out nervously as the tall middle eastern man towered over him as his mind shut down over the intense authority and energy this man radiated.

“My name is Hassan my friend I have seen you in here working out you have a lot of determination you work harder than anyone else here”

The bulky middle eastern man says in a deep masculine voice

“My determination doesn’t seem to be making a damn difference”

Mike snapped his frustration getting the better of him

“No my friend nothing is wrong with your regime I’m afraid your simply being let down by your genetics which are promoting fat gain and muscle loss as you age”

Mike grimaced and clenched his fists hating that all his hard work was for naught simply because he had a genetic predisposition for a larger chubbier physique

“Try this my friend your genetics just need a helping hand”

The middle eastern demigod said handing Mike a sachet of protein power

“Masculinity Corp ?, isn’t that the huge genetics company ? Why are they making protein power”

Mike asked, but truthfully he didn’t care anymore he just wanted results, he mixed the sachet with water and downed the shake.

“Good let’s get to work brother”

Hassan grinned, and Mike felt his body surge with energy his mind felt clouded but his body was so light he breezed through every workout Hassan put him through and this continued day after day, week after week.

Mike never questioned how Hassan was always at the gym almost like he was waiting for him but he didn’t care he just wanted to do as Hassan suggested and lift heavier and heavier weights.

“How do you feel brother shall we take a photo to commemorate your progress ?”

Hassan asked smirking, Mike posed for the photo he knew he should be surprised or even worried about the changes he had gone through these past few months but he didn’t care he finally had the masculine body he always wanted.

His pale fair skin had darkened to a glorious caramel, his thin blonde hair had thickened and darkened granting him an unruly mop of hair and thick facial hair that would grow back in mere hours no matter how many times he shaved until he had given up trying at all.

“I am transformed I am complete now my brother”

Mike mumbled having never quite managed to shake the fog that had settled in his mind making him more compliant and docile to Hassan ever since he drank that sachet of protein power but the trade off was worth it as he grinned admiring his new body.

[namrar]

Becoming a messy and sweaty bro

“Ugh, what’s that smell?” shouted Douglas from his room. “Probs my feet, you stupid dweeb,” replied Brady, who was focused on his game of call of duty. Douglas came out into the main room and was shocked as it was an absolute mess. Pizza boxes, beer, and soda bottles littered the floor. Socks and dirty clothes had been hanging from shelves and seats. “How the hell has this place become a tip again Brady? I literally cleaned this up last night? Like what the fuck do you do it?” shouted Douglas, who was now aggravated by his uncaring roommate. “Calm it, fag. You did yesterday, I’m sure you can do it again,” Brady responded calmly, still immersed in his game. “Again, again? I did it last week and the week before that, and you just fuck this up every day what’s the point? and on top of that fuck you, you stupid straight white douche!” Douglas had blown up and decided to go back to his room to read and calm down. “Straight white douche, but your white too, bro,” questioned Brady. “Of all the things you call me, I am absolutely not your fucking ‘bro’!” Douglas shouted one last time before slamming his door. He sat down on his bed and looked about his room. Douglas’s room was clean, everything was in its place, unlike everywhere else in the dorm. Where ever Brady went, he left a mess, and what made it worse he didn’t care at all. He lived in a mess and somehow coped, no he enjoyed living in it. Brady was quite dumb, which was probably a factor for being so lazy. However, he may have been lazy when it came to cleaning and at his work, but when it came to working out, doing his sports psychology course and partying, he gave it his all. He would be on time for them, strict at doing them and made sure he looked good doing them. When it came to Brady’s personality, he was very calm and relaxed most of the time. When he was with his bro’s, they would rate girls, watch porn, and play video games or workout together. They also complimented each other fit bods regularly and boasted about how much they could lift, in short, they were all alpha douche bags. They even wore the clothes to fit the stereotype, backward cap, t-shirts or tank tops with some sporty logo on it, sporty socks and studs. Douglas, on the other hand, intelligent, gay, and much more of a social activist. He enjoyed learning and discussing social politics with his friends. He wasn’t too into the whole gay scene as he didn’t have a cut body or any muscles. His body was pretty average, he could run and do most exercise if he wanted to, but he couldn’t do it excessively like his roommate. His fashion also made him feel out of place at parties so he avoided those too if he could, but sometimes Brady forced him out. He didn’t know why maybe he wanted Douglas to be more like him. Either way, it failed to make Douglas anymore excited or happy living with him. What also added to Douglas’s dislike was Brady’s insults, sometimes they were about him being a nerd; other times it was homophobic. Brady never really gave off a homophobic persona, but the insults stung none the less. All this had lead Douglas to his final solution, to move out. ———————————————— Next day

Douglas walked back to his dorm quickly as his last exam finished. The dorm moving forms would have been delivered today, and he would be able to sign and move out ASAP. No more dumb lazy Brady to ruin his time at college. He knew that Brady would be at the gym working out at the moment so all he had to was get the papers to take them to his room, sign them and he should be able to move out quietly in the next two days. Of course, he felt sorry for the next poor sod who had to move in, but they could always move out to, or maybe they’re the same as Brady. Douglas walked up to his dorm door, opened it, and looked on the floor, scanning for his letter. He looked and looked, but nothing was there. “Looking for something, fag?” asked Brady aggressively. Douglas looked up, Brady was sitting on the chair, a piece of paper resting on the armrest. “No… nothing Brady,” Douglas stuttered taken by surprise at Brady waiting for him. Douglas moved closer to Brady, who cockily sat there smiling at him. Brady was drenched with sweat; obviously, he had decided to go to the gym earlier. “Nothing? Really fag, you can’t play dumb with me, I know you want to leave. Only questions left, Why and is there anything to make you stay?” Brady intrigued. Douglas was taken aback by this reasoning. Was, Brady, asking him how he felt? Was he going to change to be better? No, it was just some ploy to make him stay and continue to clean up after him. Douglas decided to let out his rage, knowing Brady couldn’t do anything about him leaving. “You know what Brady, no. No, there isn’t anything you can do to make me stay. You are the laziest guy on campus; you treat women like shit, you call me names even though I do so much for you. I clean this fucking room constantly and all I ever get his a fucking grunt. I can’t take your shit anymore! Now give me that piece of paper so we can move on, you obviously want someone just like you, to revel in this fucking shithole of a room!” Douglas shouted at Brady, who remained quite calm throughout. Brady stood up once Douglas calmed down, he placed his hand behind Douglas’s head. Douglas tried to grab Brady’s arm, but the stench he began breathing in made him feel sick. “Is that it then? Well, your right, I wanted it someone more like me to share, but I also needed some faggy dweeb like you to clean up after me. That’s all you were, a fucking weak ass servant doing everything I asked, I wish it lasted longer between us, but you are getting boring now.” Brady explained. “So I can go then?” Douglas asked. “No fag, as I said I need a bro like me to hang out with. And since there’s no way to make you stay as you are, guess I’m, just gonna have to make you just like me,” Brady continued cockily. “Wait, wha…?” Douglas was about to ask what Brady was going on about, but Brady instead decided to slam Douglas’s head into his pecs. Douglas was confused, but the smell made him feel sick, his mind was spinning and his organs turning over, twisting inside. After a second of being stuck in Brady’s chest, Douglas could feel himself getting wetter? He looked down to see all of Brady’s sweat droplets slowly moving, like little insects. The droplets were all moving to the edge of Brady’s skin before hopping over onto Douglas. The sweat-drenched his clothes and hair, making them feel unclean. A lot of the sweat built up around his mouth, eyes,  dick, and ass before entering him and spreading Brady’s stink inside of him. Brady let go of his head and pushed him onto the sofa where he lay in agony.   “I told you fag, I want someone I can work out, play games and rate girls with and since your no use to me, your just gonna have to become me. Don’t worry though, I will make you slightly different, so no one mistakes us for the same person,” smirked Brady as he watched Douglas twitch on the sofa. Douglas felt his body begin to heat up as the sweat that covered him began entering him. The sweat on his face drained into his mouth, nose, ears, and eyes. Small lumps started pushing out of his skin on his face before they began moving about all over. The lumps were painful and caused Douglas a lot of pain, but he felt it die down a bit after a while. Unknown to Douglas, it was because his face had grown and reshaped, becoming rounder and his skin whiter in complexion. His eyes had taken in sweat, changing their color to match Brady’s dark brown ones. His facial features altered as well, his nose thickened and eyebrows thinned down but becoming longer, making his face brutish. Light hairs began sprouting on Douglas’s cleanshaven chin; they spread in two thins lines moving around the bottom of his jaw and up to his ears connecting to his hair, forming a light chinstrap beard. His hair on top retreated back down a bit into his scalp, shorting his hair. The sweat then swept the hair off to the side and lightened the hairs to become chestnut brown like Brady’s. The sweat inside his mouth then collected more sweat that Douglas had produced from the intense heat it created, before trailing down his gullet. His skin only showed a massive wave that poked out, But as it went down, Douglas’s features, all grew larger and thickened to match Brady’s size. Douglas’s once thin neck, grew out to hold up his larger head. Once the wave hit his chest, it split in three, one main wave going down his chest and the other two traveling down his arms. The waves going towards his arms slowed down as they split and doubled the mass in his shoulders, eating away at his fat and turning it into muscle. The wave left his now broader shoulders and sped down his arms, again eating away at his fat cells and turning it into mass and muscle. Any excess sweat also turned itself into more muscle and size until he had big beefy arms.   The primary wave in his chest then swept down his man boobs, enlargening them. The fat within them was used to make them bigger, rounder, and harder. Once they became the perfect round pecs of a jock, the wave moved on sparing no part Douglas and ensuring he became as close as he could to look like Brady. “Haha fag, you half look like me now. Just wait until it’s finished, then you will be totally like me. We can do everything together and don’t worry; I’ve already got you signed up for my sports psychology course, you can join me there too. It’s gonna be great fucking every girl at a party, drinking beer until throw up, playing cod all day until we have to go and workout,” cheered Brady as looked down at Douglas who was slowly being cloned into Brady. “N…no, I am not… I will never become like you… I respect women… and I am far beyond your intelligence. I will never… lower myself to your level of ignorance… and misogyny.  I’m… just a bit hot at…. the moment that’s… all,” Stuttered Douglas, whose tone was slowly deepening into a Brady like voice. “You think you’re going to be ok, fag. Let me get a mirror to show you how fucked you really are,” Brady went moved a bedroom mirror and placed it down in front of Douglas, who was shocked at what he looked like. “See fag; you’re nearly just like me. Ya got the face, the arms, and the upper body. But, now can you see your stomach as it swirls about and forms the greatest set of abs ever. I know you wish you didn’t have to be exactly like me, but it’s my sweat, my DNA traveling through you, so you have to become me. Also means the next fag we eventually convert is also gonna be me, so I guess one of us is gonna have to get a hair cut or a tattoo. God if I wanted, I could walk into some fag club and just turn everybody in alpha like me. Sadly there wouldn’t be enough pussy for everyone, but they would all have the best DNA and bod ever,” Brady complimented himself in his usual self centered way. Douglas tried to ignore him, but his words were absorbed into his mind creating fear. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to become a straight alpha douche bag bro; it was a fate worse than death. To sit around all day and play games, jerk your dick to some bimbo’s and then work out your body.   Douglas focused his eyes back on the mirror watching as his swirling belly sucked in down, so the pecs were shelving them, before creating some well-defined abs. Brady lifted his tank top and laughed, pointing down at him as he saw that they now had the same body. The waves of sweat continued down, meeting with the sweat in his butt and dick. His butt slowly grew out, not quite becoming a bubble butt, but enough to fill his jeans and underwear. It then muscled out hardening his butt. The sweat in his dick then absorbs into his shaft lengthening it out to 10 inches long. The rest of his sweat then fell back down into the balls, enlargening them to the size of golf balls, and growing a bit more after that. Traces of the sweat then made its way into Douglas’s cum which turned from Douglas’s inferior nerdy DNA into Brady’s better jock DNA. The waves of sweat finally make their way down Douglas’s legs where they do the same, turning every fat cell into hard muscle and stretching out. Douglas’s thighs became thick like Brady’s. His calves strengthened out as muscle was added to them. Finally, his feet grew out ripping his shoe’s apart. Brady ripped them off his feet and lay down next to him on the couch. “Wow, you really do look like me. I mean your, not the first fag I converted but damn do you look good, cos you know, you are me, bro,” Brady taunted “No… I am not like you. I am still a ‘fag,’ and a 'dweeb’ remember. How can you live with a nerdy gay clone of you?” Douglas snapped back, trying to make one last attack at Brady. “Don’t worry about that; you will be a pussy smashing alpha like me in no time. Oh look here we go, you can be white cap bro, and I’ll be black cap bro,” Brady got a cap off the top of the couch and placed it on Douglas’ head before slowly spinning it around backward. In the process of spinning the cap around, it slowly expunged lots of knowledge and memory from Douglas’s mind. It was painful, but Douglas was helpless as he felt his knowledge be sucked out of his brain. His memories and knowledge were sent straight down to his balls which were filling up with more of the new Brady cum. Douglas’s mind went blank slightly, and he became confused at his situation, was he dreaming? Why was he so scared? He had no recollect of what had happened to him. He only remembered his name was Douglas, or was it? Douglas looked down at his clothes, his jeans were ripped and so was his shirt. But he swore he saw them change. Douglas’s vision went blurry, but he could kind of make out his red star trek t-shirt shifting from red into a light grey, and he felt as it lightened. His shoulders felt a breeze as the sleeves of his t-shirt retracted back. He felt another breeze on his legs as his jeans retracted as well, turning into white gym shorts. Sharp pain in his ears flared up as some last droplets turned themselves into some cheap studs. Douglas looked himself in the mirror. He nearly looked like a clone of Brady. He felt nothing as his nerdy self had been mostly wiped, and his jock self hadn’t come. “Hey, bro, how you feelin?” asked Brady. “I… dunno, I feel kinda empty. Like I don’t really remember much,” Douglas said, confused. His mind may have lost most of his memory, but a small fragment was trying to reconnect to his conscience. “Don’t worry bro, I can help you out,” Brady said enthusiastically. Brad set up his favorite video to jerk off to. It was some hot bimbo getting absolutely fucked by a guy who looked a lot like him, which is why he enjoyed it so much. But while he set that up, in Douglas’s head the remainder of the sweat built up around his brain and prepared to absorb itself into it. Douglas could feel his mind connecting his remaining memories, but before they all came back to him, the sweat was absorbed into him, and Brady’s douchey alpha mindset started breaking in. His connections to his all memories broke, and Brady’s mindset now fought to kick out Douglas’s memory from his head. Douglas’s memories were pushed to the edge of his mind. The alpha douche bag thought, memories, and personality then began settling in Douglas’s mind. Gym routine’s, drinking and video games then replaced his nerdy hobbies. Finally, his social activism was replaced by objectifying females and homophobia. He only saw sexiness in women and only desired to fuck them, or as he thought 'conquering them.’ On his homophobic side, he didn’t like gays, thinking they were weak and should serve him until they refused, then he would convert them into a straight alpha like him to go around and fertilize the many bimbos in bars and clubs. He also had a dislike for lesbians as he knew they were the only women who wouldn’t be interested in him at first, but he felt that his big dick could turn them easily enough. Brady then began the video, and two people appeared on the screen. It was a man and a woman. The woman didn’t do much for Douglas at first, but the dude started peaking him. “What do you think, bro?” asked Brady. “I dunno, it’s ok I guess,” Douglas replied. “Ok? O…k? Bro, look that guy is basically you, and you’re fucking that sweet hot blonde chick,” Brady re-affirmed. Douglas’s mind then clicked as the first parts of his new douchey mind kicked. 'What the fuck am I thinking? I’m not a fag, that’s the hottest shit fucking ever. Why the fuck am I not jerking off to this?’ thought Douglas his mind-altering and his homosexuality being overwritten. Douglas got out his dick and started jerking off to the woman’s bouncy tits and fit body. Douglas’s last bit of memory screamed when it saw him giving in to this new personality and heterosexuality. 'No I must try and get back’ it thought, trying to fight Brady, but Brady had already settled lots of himself in Douglas’s head. Douglas was becoming straighter the more he jerked his dick, his homosexuality was being flushed away into his balls along with the last of his memories which screamed to remain. Eventually though the last of Douglas was lost to Brady. Douglas began Jerking his dick harder and harder now. “Ah fuck bro, I’m gonna cum,” Douglas screamed. “Don’t worry bro, it’s ok just make sure you get it all out of you,” Brady said in a relaxed manner. 'Come on Brady, that’s who I am now, gotta cum to those titties. They are so bouncy 'Oh god, don’t do it Douglas, don’t let him win’ thought the last trace of old Douglas. 'Fuckin tits man, so bouncy, so good’ thought Douglas staring at the boobs that had conquered his gaze. “Oh, fuck… I’m gonna… cum,” Douglas moaned in pleasure. Suddenly Every part of the old Douglas that was swimming about in his balls was shot out onto his chest. It instantly evaporated into air and Douglas was gone for good, he was Brady now. “Thank’s bro, what’s your name?” asked Douglas, his mind starting afresh. “I’m Brady, lil bro,” replied Brady “Woah, bro I’m Brady too and why am I lil bro?” asked Douglas “Nah lil bro, you’re my lil bro from the course and your name isn’t Brady its… um… Sean, bro,” Brady confirmed. Douglas’s mind twitched slightly and altered his mind to him, Sean. “Ah, I guess your right big bro, hey what shall we do?” He asked. “Wanna play CoD for a bit, then go to a party. There’s gonna be plenty of pussy for the both of us,” said Brady “Ok, sure big bro. But what about this room like who’s gonna clean it?” Sean asked again. “Don’t worry, we can get some fag to move in and do that for us,” Brady explained. “Sweet,” Sean shouted, high fiving his bro. Sean was now an alpha douche bag bro who didn’t do shit for anyone except Coach and Brady. The boys got a new faggy dweeb within a week and tormented him. But after two weeks, Sean came back from a night out hot and sweaty and mistook the new kid’s bed for his own. When he woke the next morning, 'Bradley’ the alpha was there instead of the nerd. Guess they’re gonna need another dweeb, and be more careful or maybe Brady’s gonna have to start his own Frat house, full of alphas just like him.

[namrar]

Dude, your look is just right. You look MAGA asf and it's super hot. Keep those selfies coming

[namrar]

A Better Ride

(inspired by a caption by the Abstract Vanity, this story includes muscle growth, gay to straight, wish gone wrong, reality change, musk & farts; as a notice, I’m aware some people are still having an issue with being able to see a Better Brother on their dash, so I’ll get to work on posting an updated version with cleaner pictures soon! thanks for your patience with me as always)

Neil, a skinny and fair haired twink, is inspecting the car his parents have given him for his twentieth birthday. He frowns slightly at the clunker as his best friend and only other gay guy in their small town, Kody, sits excitedly in the driver’s seat and tries to make light of the situation. “It’s really not all that bad, Neil! A car is a car, try to look a little more grateful.” Kody was always warm and kind, ever the optimist. In any situation, he could find the bright side of it.

But Neil just feels disappointed, envious and greedy. This thing looks like it barely has twenty more miles in it! He grumbles below his breath, “I wish I had a better ride,” thinking about all the popular guys at their college campus driving around in their fancy trust fund cars. As he imagines the straight jocks, he can feel his cock twitch a bit, coming to life in his tiny shorts. He knows the guys are immature and backwards minded and more muscle than intelligence, but he has always been attracted to the stereotypical frat bro douche that would never feel the same way about a lanky, effeminate nerd like him.

Not long after he speaks the wish, however, Neil watches as the driver’s side door slams closed on the clunker. Kody looks surprised in the driver’s seat with the window rolled up, his lips are moving but Neil can’t hear the question being asked. Catching them both off guard, Neil can only watch on in confusion and fear as green mist begins to appear around Kody, first thin tendrils of smoke and then suddenly, the coughing form of his equally skinny, pale haired twink of a friend is consumed in the cloud of green fumes. Before Neil can process this, he hears the crunch of metal, unable to do anything as he stares and watches the cheap old car morph into a larger, more modern truck on massive wheels, with a blaring bass system and lots of fancy gadgets modded onto the vehicle. It reminds him of the same rides his crushes would drive around in, revving up their engines and trying to impress all the chicks they could find.

Once the car finishes changing, granting Neil’s wish and making him smile, he rushes to the car door to make sure that Kody is inside and safe. He’ll be so excited when he sees what he’s sitting inside of now! But as he opens the door, all Neil can do is gag as his eyes begin to water immediately, the fumes of green gas pouring over him and reeking of rotten eggs, protein, and the stale dank scent of a men’s locker room. As the fog disperses, the man left sitting in the driver’s seat is not Kody, but instead a much more brutish and swollen version of him, cute hair cropped short and his now square, stubbles face leering down at Neil. He grips the steering wheel, and it makes his bicep look even more swole.

He flexes to show the little nerd what sets them apart. In this situation, and all others, the new and improved Kolton is in control. “Okay, fag. I know it’s your birthday so I’m gonna raw dog your ass just this once, but we gotta be quick. And don’t be fucking clingy and try to reach out to me after this. This is a one time thing, your boy cunt is an appetizer but pussy is the only meal I’m interested in.” Neil could barely process the vanishing of his bestie, too occupied with the tenting of his tiny cock. The man in front of him looks like he’s stepped out of a wet dream, or more accurately, a wish. Clearly this truck belonged to Kolton, and not himself, and surely some essence of Kody must have still been inside under all that muscle and rank stench.

But it is Neil’s birthday… he runs around to the passenger side, allowing himself inside and getting straight to work by taking Kolton’s cock into his mouth. He enjoys the rough, calloused hand pressing his nose into the wiry bush of hairs, the thick length making him gag like the smell had, he moans and whimpers and he is in heaven. Fuck having a car, this was the best gift he could ask for.

Kolton just sits there and closes his eyes, imagining breasts bouncing and pussies dripping as the twink works his magic on his fat dick. It was nice of him to make the fag’s wish come true today, but he’d be shoving his tongue into some pussy as quickly as he can find it after this. He’ll leave this twink in the dust and never look back.

Poor Kody, though… looks like he’ll be a passenger for the rest of his life. A twink trapped in the body of a hulking, reeking, walking stereotype. The picture perfect image of a straight frat bro.

Kolton’s got the wheel now.

[namrar]

A Better Ride

(inspired by a caption by the Abstract Vanity, this story includes muscle growth, gay to straight, wish gone wrong, reality change, musk & farts; as a notice, I’m aware some people are still having an issue with being able to see a Better Brother on their dash, so I’ll get to work on posting an updated version with cleaner pictures soon! thanks for your patience with me as always)

Neil, a skinny and fair haired twink, is inspecting the car his parents have given him for his twentieth birthday. He frowns slightly at the clunker as his best friend and only other gay guy in their small town, Kody, sits excitedly in the driver’s seat and tries to make light of the situation. “It’s really not all that bad, Neil! A car is a car, try to look a little more grateful.” Kody was always warm and kind, ever the optimist. In any situation, he could find the bright side of it.

But Neil just feels disappointed, envious and greedy. This thing looks like it barely has twenty more miles in it! He grumbles below his breath, “I wish I had a better ride,” thinking about all the popular guys at their college campus driving around in their fancy trust fund cars. As he imagines the straight jocks, he can feel his cock twitch a bit, coming to life in his tiny shorts. He knows the guys are immature and backwards minded and more muscle than intelligence, but he has always been attracted to the stereotypical frat bro douche that would never feel the same way about a lanky, effeminate nerd like him.

Not long after he speaks the wish, however, Neil watches as the driver’s side door slams closed on the clunker. Kody looks surprised in the driver’s seat with the window rolled up, his lips are moving but Neil can’t hear the question being asked. Catching them both off guard, Neil can only watch on in confusion and fear as green mist begins to appear around Kody, first thin tendrils of smoke and then suddenly, the coughing form of his equally skinny, pale haired twink of a friend is consumed in the cloud of green fumes. Before Neil can process this, he hears the crunch of metal, unable to do anything as he stares and watches the cheap old car morph into a larger, more modern truck on massive wheels, with a blaring bass system and lots of fancy gadgets modded onto the vehicle. It reminds him of the same rides his crushes would drive around in, revving up their engines and trying to impress all the chicks they could find.

Once the car finishes changing, granting Neil’s wish and making him smile, he rushes to the car door to make sure that Kody is inside and safe. He’ll be so excited when he sees what he’s sitting inside of now! But as he opens the door, all Neil can do is gag as his eyes begin to water immediately, the fumes of green gas pouring over him and reeking of rotten eggs, protein, and the stale dank scent of a men’s locker room. As the fog disperses, the man left sitting in the driver’s seat is not Kody, but instead a much more brutish and swollen version of him, cute hair cropped short and his now square, stubbles face leering down at Neil. He grips the steering wheel, and it makes his bicep look even more swole.

He flexes to show the little nerd what sets them apart. In this situation, and all others, the new and improved Kolton is in control. “Okay, fag. I know it’s your birthday so I’m gonna raw dog your ass just this once, but we gotta be quick. And don’t be fucking clingy and try to reach out to me after this. This is a one time thing, your boy cunt is an appetizer but pussy is the only meal I’m interested in.” Neil could barely process the vanishing of his bestie, too occupied with the tenting of his tiny cock. The man in front of him looks like he’s stepped out of a wet dream, or more accurately, a wish. Clearly this truck belonged to Kolton, and not himself, and surely some essence of Kody must have still been inside under all that muscle and rank stench.

But it is Neil’s birthday… he runs around to the passenger side, allowing himself inside and getting straight to work by taking Kolton’s cock into his mouth. He enjoys the rough, calloused hand pressing his nose into the wiry bush of hairs, the thick length making him gag like the smell had, he moans and whimpers and he is in heaven. Fuck having a car, this was the best gift he could ask for.

Kolton just sits there and closes his eyes, imagining breasts bouncing and pussies dripping as the twink works his magic on his fat dick. It was nice of him to make the fag’s wish come true today, but he’d be shoving his tongue into some pussy as quickly as he can find it after this. He’ll leave this twink in the dust and never look back.

Poor Kody, though… looks like he’ll be a passenger for the rest of his life. A twink trapped in the body of a hulking, reeking, walking stereotype. The picture perfect image of a straight frat bro.

Kolton’s got the wheel now.