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[nonamealphajockbro]

[nonamealphajockbro]

[nonamealphajockbro]

"This project sucks" said your jock project partner. "I can't believe how long this is taking. Honestly, I'm not good with this kind of stuff. Way too much thinking. Nerd shit, if you ask me. I'm glad I got paired up with you, because you seem good with this," he said to you.

You rolled your eyes and agitation, staring at all his dumb, macho movie and sport posters. How did you always end up stuck with these meathead idiots who were too dumb to do any of the work that needed to get done?

"You know, you're pretty cool for a gay guy. You should think about joining my frat," he said.

You stared at him, confused for a minute. You? A frat? That was ridiculous. You hated frats, hated the people in them, and hated what they stood for. Just another excuse to get drunk, and so full of misogynistic douchebags. You told him you weren't interested politely. He asked again soon, and you declined again. He kept asking why, but you just said it wasn't your type of thing. He said that was cool, but other people had to come around before and it was pretty chill. These were the years to fuck around, drink beer, workout, bulk up, and fuck. They had their whole lives to be boring. This was their physical prime and they should take advantage of that. You thought it was gross.

You had to admit though, he was pretty hot, even for a total idiot. His bulging arms kept catching your gaze. They were nice and big, nice to look at. Nice when he moved and his huge biceps rolled up and down his upper arm. Maybe it was the only positive aspect of getting paired up with him for this project. It didn't help that he was the exact type of guy you'd imagine fucking you, telling you what to do when you jerked off at night, but you usually compartmentalized the two parts well.

Later, he was zoned out playing video games and drinking a beer as you worked on the project, and eventually leaned back, and hoisted one of his feet up on the side table next to you. At first, you were disgusted. Did he have no manners? But as time went on you noticed how nice it was to look at. How smooth it was, and how big. So big. So much bigger than yours, and nice and meaty too. You felt yourself getting hard against your will, trying to look away and focus... but he was fucking hot! As you thought about it more, you realized maybe... you were in the wrong. He may be dumb, but he had never been judgemental, malicious or mean. Maybe you were the one with preconceived notions. Maybe you were the one being judgemental, and maybe you were the one who should've gave him a chance.

"I'm so glad you're taking care of this, man. I'm a lot better at more physical stuff than that stuff if you know what I mean."

You stared at him, eyebrow raised.

"I mean, I know you can tell. You've been staring at my arm since you got here. What is it? Do you like these?" he asked, flexing. His biceps rolled up like hills as big as his head forming, also highlighting his capped shoulders and muscular, hairy armpits.

You stared, transfixed by his huge muscles and bushy pits, still shocked the fact that he had just done that but unable to look away. He was smiling at you, his killer white smile flashing. He turned his wrists the other way and then back again and his biceps followed accordingly, rolling back and forth. Your eyes followed them as they moved, side to side, side to side. A line of drool fell out of your mouth, but you didn't notice.

"Haha, I thought so, skinny boy. These always do the trick," he said, wiggling his toes. Your eyes moved to them again, appreciating how big and beautiful they were. "Especially if they stink. You probably were feeling more friendly towards me just now; that's just the pheromones from my sweat working, overwhelming you. Soon you'll be begging to do whatever I say. Begging to join my frat and be a frat bro, just like us. And don't worry too much, even if you got up and left now, you'd turn right around. You've got about 15 seconds. I didn't want to assume, but I figured a gay guy like you would be into me."

Taking ahold of yourself at his dumb comment, you walked towards the door, disgusted and about to leave when you stopped suddenly. You felt your head slowly, involuntarily turn around as your eyes locked on his huge feet again; his big muscular arms, his cocky smile. You inhaled deeply; his musky scent had filed the room totally. You started walking back to him. Part of you wanted to stop, but a stronger part didn't. No, you wanted to serve him. Any dislike you'd felt towards him being replaced, rewritten, with an overwhelming desire to please. To please him. To do whatever he wanted. To do the project so that he would get a good grade. That would make him happy. Happy with you. And you knew that you wanted that more than anything in the world. He had to be happy with you. That was very, very important to you now, and so was the smell that was filling the room, rewriting all of you. By the time you stood in front of him there was nothing left. Nothing but a desire to please him. He smiled, the dumb look still on his face.

You dropped down quickly to your knees, as quickly as you could, because you wanted him to know how eager you were to serve him. That would make him happy. And that will make you happy. You felt your face pulling closer towards his feet. His big, sweaty feet. The feet that owned you now.

"Not-ah, not yet," he said, still smiling as he wiggled his toes in front of your face.. You froze, as much as it pained you. "Just appreciate them for now," he said, moving one an inch from your face. "Just breathe them in. I can tell you want to. Don't be shy about it, boy."

You inhaled deeply, drinking in the scent more, fog hazing your mind. It smelled so musky and good.

"You've probably imagined this a million times, haven't you boy?

"Yes sir. Yes I have. I've dreamed of kneeling in front of a real man like you, sniffing and licking your sweaty, manly feet. It's so embarrassing but nothing makes me cum harder. I'm sorry I disrespected you by trying to leave sir. This is what I want. This is where I belong."

"That's right boy. Now strip down for me babyboy. Let Daddy see that pretty little body."

Your cheeks flushed as you stood up, undressing yourself. Normally you would've felt embarrassed to do this, but this time it was because you just felt lucky that he'd chosen you to boss around. He had told you to, and doing what he said mattered most. A few moments later, you were totally naked in front of him.

"Approach," he commanded.

You stepped forward dutifully. His big hands explored your body, feeling like he could wrap both around your thin torso and have his fingers meet. Where they touched you, ripples of pleasure seem to spiral outwards. He gripped your ass tightly, grunting appraisingly, turning you around, smirking at your decent sized cock. His hands brushed over your nipples and squeezed. Your eyes fluttered in pleasure as your mind went blank. All that existed was the feeling of his big, meaty fingers sliding over your nipplrd, squeezing them, playing you like an instrument. He pulled you back into him and you collapsed onto his lap, feeling how much larger he was than you, how tiny you were compared to him.

"Ready to pledge yourself to me, boy?"

"Yes," you said, ass grinding against the imprint of his cock you felt against your ass, letting your head roll back as its power overwhelmed you, turning you weak and submissive- no, just making your weak, submissive nature come out.

"Before we go any further, you're going to give me total control, boy," he said, grinding his hips against your ass as he said it.

"Yes sir," you said dazedly, head still rolled back as your body moved in time with his, "Total control."

"That's right boy. And I don't just mean in the bedroom. I mean total control. You sure you want to give that up boy?" he said, thrusting his hips a little harder and faster each moment.

"Yes... sir," you said, lost in the feeling of his thick, throbbing cock outline on your ass through both your pants. You'd do anything for that cock right now. You needed to let him know. "Anything for your cock, sir. Total. Control."

"That's my boy," he cooed in his deep voice, reaching a hand up to squeeze your tiny pink nipple again. You moaned in pleasure, reeling at his touch as your body experienced a pleasure more intense than you ever felt before, slowly becoming addicted to it, needing it, feeling everything else that had ever felt good become dull by comparison. You body rewired itself, craving him, making him a necessity like food, water, or air. You needed him. Only he had ever made you feel this good. Nothing would ever feel this good again. Every part of you craved him, craved more, needed more of that feeling. You realized you were staring into his eyes now, transfixed. He gave you a slow, cocky nod.

You shot forward. You wanted to be his whore. To do whatever he said. He was the type of musclegod you'd watched countless videos of, the type you had hundreds of pics saved of. A dumb, stupid bro. And he was in front of you now, biceps bulging, hairy, sweaty pits out, his hard cock grinding against you, and a look of dominance on his face. You fell into the role you'd jerked off to in front of your computer so many times, collapsing into his pit, smiling as the salty smell of his sweat filled your nose again. It was different than the musk from his feet. Sweeter and more tantalizing. You tongue lapped at it as you rubbed your face against the bush of dark hair, sucking the sweat from it. He flexed and you immediately went to kissing and licking his huge muscles. Your eyes glazed over as you became lost in him; lost in his body and scent and worshipping him, lost in his charming, cocky smile that made you hear a "go on, go on boy" in your head every time you saw it. Keeping him smiling was all that mattered.

"You're gonna join my frat, bro," he continued, still rubbing and pinching you while grinding his cock against your ass.

"Wha-" you mumbled, but it changed to a "Yes," midway through, kissing his bicep that was as big as your head over and over.

"Hope you were paying attention boy. You heard me, right? 'Pledge' yourself to me? Haha. Yep. Me and my frat. Drinking, fucking and working out is all you care about now. Just like those guys on the wall. Look at them all, boy. Men. Men you want to be like. Just like the guys downstairs. They all started out like you, you know. Nerd losers. Yep. All those meatheads down there sitting on the couch, manspreading their thick thighs watching football n drinking beer were faggots like you once. But one thing about you guys- you're more eager to give up control way more than any bitch I've ever fucked, and that makes the transition pretty easy and quick, surprisingly. I say gain 20 pounds if you wanna suck this cock again, and they come back 30 pounds heavier. I say go bring a bitch home if they want Daddy's pits again- just to see if they'll do it- and they come home with 3. I tell them to enjoy it, and oh, they enjoy it. You should see some of these guys the first time they get in a pussy. Something left of their masculinity activates and they go nuts. They know they want to be men, deep down. They just never thought they could until me. And they know they have me to thank."

Before you know what's happening, as his words are still seeping into you, rewriting your reality, he slides a finger into your hole. You gasp- you've never felt that before. You're a virgin, honestly. But you feel him inside you now and it feels so good.... so right for him to be penetrating you. Infiltrating you. You relax into it, starting to bounce slowly on it.

"That's right boy. You're my little puppet now."

"I'm your puppet now" you repeat, feeling him in you, controlling you, letting him. It feels amazing, addicting.

"You're mine to command, boy.'

"I'm yours to command sir."

"You want to get bigger."

"I want to get... bigger."

"You want to look like this," he says, flexing his free arm. You stare at it and... it's true, youdon't juat want it... you want to look like it. You bounce harder on his finger and barely notice as he slides you off it and onto his cock. Both your heads tip back in pleasure as he slides into your tight hole. You grind against each other at the same time, slowly his big thick hands moving to grip your thin waist- only it's gtting bigger, thicker, more muscular. You look down queationing, butv when you look up at hmim he's nodding, and a momemt later you are too. Youunderstand.You want this. You grid against him, letting more of his cock and precum soak into you.

"That's it boy," he says, "Soak all that alpha cum up, baby. Let ot make you a real man. This is just the beginning."

"Yeaaaah," you say, your voice getting deeper and deeper as you say it, your chest widening, your skin going from pale white to a nice bronzed tan. You feel your cock swelling, balls swelling too. Your thoughts cloud as this happens; it gets harder and harder to think. Like you're getting dumber... like your cock was controlling you completely now. You smile at him while you ride his cock harder, and he smiles back.

"You get it now boy?" he sas with a laugh.

"Mhm," you grunt, "Gotta keep this dick happy, n to do that I gotta look good. Gotta hit the gym, gotta make sure I stay looking good," you say, flexing your now thick biceps.

"That's right boy," he says, reaching up to squeeze your niple. You shuudder, head rolling back again.

"Let's hit the gym after this, bro," you said in a daze.

He nodded, laughing. "See. Deep down you wanted to be a man like me all along, didn't you?"

"Yeah," you admitted. "iI get it now bro.

"You fags break so easily," he says with a laugh. "I always knew I wanted to start my own frat. Too much work to join another, but also didn't want to deal with recruiting people and getting them to follow me. But then I realized there was a whole group of guys who'd follow me and whatever I said, just as long as they get this dick once in awhile. Well congrats boy, you're one of us now," he said with a thrust, and you felt a surge of warmth from his cock fill you. Your insides tingled, then burned as the slow transformation that had been happening quickened. Your arms doubled, then tripled in size; thick, dark bushes of hair growing under each. Your chest puffed out and your back widened and your underwear and pants ripped as your thighs blew up. haha, You leaned your head back and yelled as it happened, barley realizing you were cumming. You felt your center of focus going from your brain to the big dick now hanging between your legs. You want to do what it says, want to do what makes it feel good. You feel that becoming your main focus in life now: pleasing your cock. You're a slave to it. You have to stay big. Being be big would let you fuck more. It was so simple, such a clear and easy directive to follow.

"My maaaan," he said proudly, looking up at your new body. "How you feelin bro?"

You grinned stupidly at him. "Great man," you said, standing up and examining yourself in the mirror, running your hands over your physique as your memories rewrote themselves. It had been hard, but working for this body over the years had been so worth it. Memories of hours in the gym, and getting your sweaty cock sucked by fags, and bitches nearly throwing themselves at you for this body flooded you. It felt so good.

"Give those pits a whiff, boy."

You lifted your arm, inhaling your own pit stench. The smell nearly burned your nose, but still smelled great. Nice and masculine and virile. Kinda made you a little horny. "Haha, damn. That shit reeks bro," you sad with a dumb grin.

"Haha I know right man? As a bro, your pits should always reek. Make sure you never wash or scrub them out. Helps line up the faggots and gives them a job."

"Yeah bro, I know," you said. You'd always known that, of course.

You stared at the half finished project on the computer.

"Damn, i guess we'll need to find a fag to finish that up. Shouldn't be too hard to find one out at the gym though," you said with a cocky smirk, flexing your biceps in the mirror and grinning dumbly at them.

"That's right man." he says, flexing his own behind you. Even though you'd gotten bigger, he was still way bigger than you. His pit stretch wiped your own right out of your nose.

"Damn bro! You stink!" you said, but with admiration, not insultingly.

"It comes with size," he said casually. "But one last thing before we go, what do you wanna do after?"

"I dunno man," you said dumbly. "Probably watch the game downstairs with the guys, invite some bitches over, see if I can bang one," you said with another dumb, cocky smile.

"My guy," he said, walking over and giving you a bro-hi-five, bouncing his big chest off yours.

You put his clothes on one by one, first his big boxers which fit around your thick waist and thighs tightly. Part of you inside remembered what you'd been only moments ago, but seeing yourself like this was just too enticing. Big. Strong. Powerful. No one was going to fuck with you or push you around now. this was what being a man felt like. A real man. The feeling was addicting. You wanted more of it, more of that power, so you had to keep getting bigger. Stronger. Asserting your masculinity. Fucking. Dominating. Constantly. You never understood where jocks had gotten that motivation, but now it was clear as day, it wasn't motivation, it was an addiction. Addiction to power and strength. Now that you'd tasted power like this, you'd be chasing more forever.

"Embrace that boy," he said, "You're a man now. You're one of us now." he said from behind you.

"Duck yeah I am," you said and he smiled at you. "Then let's hit the gym."

"Let's get it bro," he said, giving your ass a firm spank.

Hours later you were both balls deep in two bitches you'd met at the bar giving them both a good pounding. You laughed and high fived each other every time one of them let out a moan of pleasure. Before that you'd both sat back and gotten sucked off and compared them to the fag couple you'd found at the gym before the bar who were both on their knees in front of your cocks in minutes. Honestly, the fags had been better, you both agreed while these chicks slurped on your cocks. They wanted it more. Grunting, you each blew your load into them after a few minutes of sloppy pounding and collapsed onto them. It was good to be a bro.

[nonamealphajockbro]

Brett Mitchell

Tim was a quiet and unassuming individual who kept to himself. One day, while reading in the college library, Tim received a message from someone he didn’t recognise - a guy named ‘Brett Mitchell’. Brett was the opposite of Tim. Brett was muscular while Tim was scrawny. Brett was confident where Tim was insecure. Brett was alpha while Tim was beta.

Being the curious individual he was, Tim decided to open the message. The message read:

“Hey bro! Saw your profile and thought you’d be perfect for our frat house. Click the link below to find out more, my dude.”

Without thinking, Tim clicked the link. As soon as he did, he felt a strange sensation wash over him. Suddenly, Tim's body began to change. His once unassuming frame began to bulge and grow as muscle mass accumulated at an alarming rate. His hair grew wild and unkempt, and his face became distorted, taking on ape-like features. His whole body had grown to massive proportions, causing him to burst out of his clothing.

Suddenly, you felt massive hands grab you from behind. “What’s up brother? What the hell is the dumbest boy on campus doing in the library?” He ran his hands along Tim’s new fat pecs as he grunted like an ape.

Tim barely had enough brain power to piece it together, but he had just become an obnoxious, smelly alpha - frat brother of the almighty Brett Mitchell. And that man who was groping him is Brett, admiring his work.

Tim, now known as "Udder Boy," became the life of the party. He could feel the overwhelming need to party and dominate others, and that's exactly what he did. He could drink more beer than anyone else and could out-party anyone. But with his new-found alpha status came a new set of problems. He constantly picked fights and belittled others, and his body odor became unbearable. No one wanted to be around him, but he didn't care, he was Udder Boy and he could do whatever he wanted.

As time went on, Tim realized that the spell had not just changed his physical appearance, but his personality as well. He didn't want to be this person anymore, but he didn't know how to reverse the spell. He spent the rest of his days as the obnoxious, smelly, alpha frat boy, wishing that he hadn’t clicked on that stupid little link.

Just look at him now, posing and goofing around in front of the mirror with Brett - the frat bro who cursed him to live as a big dumb ape of a man… forever.

[nonamealphajockbro]

Tim the Frat Boy

Tim was a bit of an introvert and never really felt like he fit in with the popular crowd. He often wished he could be more attractive, but never thought it could actually happen.

One day, while walking home from school, Tim stumbled upon an old, mysterious lamp. Without thinking, he rubbed it and out popped a genie.

“I am the genie of the lamp,” said the genie. “I can grant you one wish.”

Excited by the opportunity, Tim quickly said, “I wish to be more attractive.”

The genie nodded and with a puff of smoke, Tim was transformed. But as he looked in the mirror, he realized something had gone horribly wrong. He now had massive pecs and a jock-like appearance, but his intelligence had been greatly reduced.

“Bro, what the heck happened to me?” Tim exclaimed, smacking his new fat tits. “I can’t leave the house like this! I look like a freak!”

“You wished to be more attractive,” said the genie. “You should always be careful for what you wish for, as it may not be what you truly want.”

Tim’s new appearance drew the attention of the popular crowd at school, but not in a good way. They teased him relentlessly, calling him the “dumbest boy in school”. And it was for good reason too.

Tim struggled to express himself properly - unable to finish a sentence without a vacant ‘bro’ or ‘bruh’. His grades dropped from straight As to straight Ds. His former friends felt bad for the ape of a man, staying after class to tutor him. But no matter how hard Tim tried, he could never focus long enough to learn anything. All he could do was sit back, smell his stink and unknowingly drool on his pecs.

Tim begged the genie to change him back, but the genie told him that the wish was permanent. Tim is now stuck in his hulking ape body for the rest of eternity.

Tim had always wanted to be a doctor but now a job in construction was looking a lot more likely - at least he’ll blend in because of the smell.

[nonamealphajockbro]

BREEDR

I wake up, slightly relieved I’m not hungover. Maybe I would have been if James hadn’t ditched me. I look down at my phone and furrow my brows. I have a missed call, a voicemail and an Instagram DM all from James left at 4:09am last night. Damn, that’s pretty late, even for James. I listen to the voicemail, struggling to hear James’ voice over the loud thumping club music in the background.

"AY BRO, ITS JAMIE! YOU GOTTA CHECK OUT THIS PERSONALITY TEST IM SENDING YOU, MAN. ITS FUCKIN CRAZY DUDE.”

James' message catches me completely off guard. Since when the hell did this 5'6 gay twink start using the word 'bro'? I mean, I was just with the boy at Glitter & Groove last night, the city's hottest new gay club. And, as expected, he ditched me by the end of the night to go off with some beefy daddy type. The daddy claimed he was straight, but for James, that's just a challenge. He loves the whole idea of "turning straight men gay." Personally, I've always believed that if a straight guy ends up in bed with James, well, he probably wasn't that straight to begin with. You can’t just change someone’s sexuality, but James always thought different. Damn though, that beefy daddy seems to have left a mark on him, got him to say 'bro' and shit.

“bro thiz is the new personalty test i did its so accrate check out the lynk belw"

Damn, this boy’s got an English degree. I can’t remember the last time I saw him make a spelling mistake. It must have gotten really crazy last night.

Anyway, what’s this he sent me? The personality test… ‘BREEDR’, it says. It’s 10am on a Saturday morning. I don’t got anywhere else to be. So, I click the link and am presented with the flashy homepage.

“IT FEELS SO GOOD TO RELEASE WHO I’VE ALWAYS BEEN ON THE INSIDE”

Discover Your True Self: Take our 10-Minute Test to Unveil Who You Are at Your Deepest, Most Primal State

I click on the test. It’s just the expected usual run-of-the-mill online personality quiz.

You enjoy learning new things

As a recent English graduate, I can't help but chuckle. Well, I'd be a complete fraud if I said I didn't. I click "yes" on that one. After all, I did just spend years immersing myself in literature and analyzing complex texts. Learning is practically in my DNA now.

Yes [-] / No [ ]

You like dogs more than cats

I guess. Though I must say the question seems pointless. How does this affect my personality. Whelp, I don’t know what I expected from a stupid online personality test. Sure, I guess I like dogs more.

Yes [-] / No [ ]

You like hanging out with friends

Are there people who don’t like hanging out with their friends? Okay, faster I get this over with the better. Sure, I’ll answer yes.

Yes [-] / No [ ]

I click quickly through the boring questions until one startled me.

You like big muscles

My eyes widen. Strange question, but I'll roll with it, I guess. I mean, it's not entirely untrue. I've always had a thing for guys with big muscles. There's something about the roundness and masculinity that I've always found appealing. It makes me feel safe and protected, you know? Damn, why am I hard thinking about muscles? I seriously need to get laid. Anyway, I'll just answer honestly. I click "yes" and move on to the next one.

Yes [-] / No [ ]

You frequently attend to the gym

I chuckle to myself as I read the next question. "You regularly visit the gym and actively engage in weightlifting." Well, that's a bit of a stretch. I mean, I have gone to the gym a few times, but I wouldn't say I actively go. I've always been more of a skinny guy, and the idea of lifting heavy weights in front of all those big, musty meatheads is a bit intimidating. Not to mention the stench in the local gym’s locker room always stank, which didn't exactly make me want to go back. I guess I'll have to answer "no" on this one.

Yes [-] / No [ ]

Wait, I pressed “no”. Why did it put in “yes”. I try to click “no” again but it seems as though my answer is locked in. Fuck, that might fuck up my results. Whatever, let’s just get this over with.

You often find yourself flexing and admiring your muscles in front of the mirror

I scratch my head, my bicep rubbing off my cheek. Well, now that I think of it, I guess I do sometimes. I mean, I'm not one of those obnoxious bodybuilders or anything, but if I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror, I might do a bit of flexing. But come on, doesn't every guy do that? I spend hours in the gym every week; is it really that narcissistic to want to show off my biceps every now and then? I guess I'll reluctantly answer "yes" on this one.

Yes [-] / No [ ]

You engage in manscaping and frequently wash your body

I do shower quite a bit, especially after going to the gym. Can't stand the thought of going about my day feeling all sweaty and grimy. Besides, the locker rooms at the gym can be quite the stinkfest. I've walked in there and almost turned around immediately. It's like a mix of old socks, musk, and sweat lingering in the air. It's not the most pleasant environment to say the least. So yeah, I guess I'm a little more bothered by bad smells than the average guy. So, yeah, I tend to shower a lot. As regarding the manscaping, I’ve never been able to grow much body hair. Can’t even grow a beard. So, manscaping has never really been a problem for me.

Yes [ ] / No [-]

I curse under my breath as I realize my big fingers accidentally clicked "no" on the question about being bothered by bad smells. Great, just my luck. Hopefully, it won't have too much of an impact on the final result. As I take a deep breath, a sudden hot stench fills my nostrils. It's strong, and I can't help but follow it like a sniffer dog, tracing it to its source. I lift up my arm, and there it is— a wild, tangled forest of armpit hair producing that foul odor. I can't help but give it a nice scratch and shrug. Maybe I did answer that previous question correctly after all. My last shower was almost four days ago, and it looks like my armpits are making up for lost time. Who cares, right? I scratch the scruff on my face, accidentally staining it with my musty stench. I smirk, finding the stench kinda amusing. Let’s just carry on with the test.

You feel at one with your bros

I continue to absentmindedly sniff my own stench, looking at the question. Fuck everyone smells so fucking strong, especially the pits. My bros? I don’t know if I’d call anyone my bros, but I guess in this context, someone like James would be my bro? Like my buddy or something. Yeah, I guess I feel at one with my him and he’s my bro. So, yeah. Me and the bros be pretty in sync my dude. Like we part of a dog pack or something.

Yes [-] / No [ ]

You like to think hard

Fuck, these pits bro. They smell so fucking good. Fuck, oh shit, I’m doing the test man. I forgot. Thinking hard? I mean, I can think hard. Like I’m smart and shit, I think. I went to college… or am I in college? I forget. What was I doing? Oh yeah, the test. I can think but I guess I prefer not to?

Yes [ ] / No [-]

You want countless children

Do I want children, bro? Uhhh, I don't think so. I've never really thought that far ahead, bro, huhuhu. I mean, I'm too busy with college right now, you know, having a blast and getting laid with all the boys I could possibly dream of. I don't have time for any of that family stuff, bro. I'm living my best life in the moment, and kids are not in the picture right now, that's for sure. It’s a “no”, bro.

Yes [-] / No [ ]

Fuck! Did I click "yes"? Words are so fucking hard sometimes, bro. All the letters just get all jumbled up in my head. But hey, I know how to read, though! I'm not stupid or nothin'. I'm studying Engli… I mean, I'm studying… I'm studying business. And business is for bros who have brains. And I have a brain, bro! It's just that sometimes my thoughts get a little lost, you know? But I'm smart and I know it. Gotta keep that confidence, bro!

You feel the primal urge to breed and impregnate as many girls as possible

Fuck, just reading that made me so hard bro. Why am I thinking of big bouncing tits. Stop, I’m gay! Get that shit outta ma head bro. Fuck… imagine some bimbo sliding down my 8 inch cock bro… no! Not… straight. Don’t want to… breed… girls and… impregnate them… with my alpha seed. No… fuck i’m gonna bust bro. No! Just… don’t think about… don’t think about BIG BOUNCING BOOBIES.

Yes [-] / No [ ]

FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

I busted a fat nut all in my boxers, bro. It’s a sticky mess down there. I could clean it up but… fuck it, it’ll be fine.

I look up at the screen and see the words

SUBMITTING RESULTS

RETRIEVING BREEDR PERSONALITY PROFILE

I stare at the loading screen, my mouth agape as drool trickles out and onto my big, bouncy pecs. Just seeing that loading circle spin puts my brain at its maximum capacity, bro. It's like my whole world has become this little circle, and I can't focus on anything else. All I can think about is what my result is gonna be, and I'm so damn excited to find out. It's like waiting for the game-winning touchdown in the last seconds of the Super Bowl, bro. I can feel the anticipation coursing through me, and my heart's pounding like crazy. I can't wait to see what kind of bro I'm gonna be, dude!

YOUR BREEDR PERSONALITY IS…

FRAT

FUN-LOVING

ROWDY

ACTIVE

THOUGHTLESS

Fuck, bro! This personality test is so fuckin' accurate, man! It's like they peeked into my brain and saw every little thing about me. It's crazy, bro! I feel like I'm seeing my own reflection, dude. How the hell do they do that? It's like some sort of magic or something, huhuhu.

I gotta share this with the bros, man. I’ll post the link in the University LGBT club’s groupchat huhuhu. It’ll be funny to see what kinda BREEDR personalities they’ll get.

Anyway, dude, I gotta get ready. Me and the frat bros are hittin' up the Freshman Fair today. Gonna go hang out with Jamie and see how many hot babes we can impregnate, bro. It's gonna be a sick day, man!

[nonamealphajockbro]

Loving the work so far. If you're taking asks, I've got a simple wish. I'm a boring average gay dude working in my college's art department, I've always wondered what it'd be to be a dumb, straight douchebag. think you can make it happen?

That’s quite a simple request. You see, the lifestyle of a dumb straight douche is very easy to craft. We’ll start with that pesky brain of yours. Your above average intellect diminishes until you’re so dumb it’s a wonder you ever passed middle school. The comes your sexuality. Now, being gay isn’t a bad thing but it’s common to wish to be straight. You’re straight now and due to your, let me say, low intelligence, you can’t even see women as much besides a toy for you to use to get off. The douchebag part comes naturally to your straight dumbass self. You easily accept the “fact” that you’re the ideal man, strong, dumb, with a high sperm count and sex drive. You look down on all that aren’t eerily similar to you. There you go. Now you’re exactly what you wanted, a dumb, straight douchebag.

[nonamealphajockbro]

Frat Boy Fantasy

Marcus was really regretting his wish. All he wanted to do was spend time with the hot guys in the Frat House down the street, but he never meant that he wanted to spend time with them as a brother of the house. He wanted to be sucking on their cocks, sniffing their hot swampy armpits, not trapped inside a meaty sweat covered body without any ability to control it. He hated the version of himself he was now, his big thick hand scratching at his ass crack and pits, sniffing his rank stench. He felt so gross and stupid, lounging around in sweat pants, laughing at the dumb misogynistic jokes, flexing when given the cue.

He kept waiting for something fun and gay to happen, for all the hot guys to start kissing, or for someone to play pop music to relax to, but the best he got was kisses on the cheek and bros slapping his cock with a callused palm, muttering “no homo, brah!” Rap music was blaring, causing him to scream inside his head, but the vessel he was inside just nodded along and tapped his big stinky foot. “This shit is tight,” he drawled, at the same time his hand pawed at his fat package.

One of the frat boys he had the biggest crush on came and sat beside him, throwing a muscled arm over his shoulder, his slick armpit hairs touching his skin. His thick cock remained deflated, up until the bro shoved his cheap scratched up phone in his face, laughing. “Fuckkk Mark, look at these mommy milkers,” he said, showing off a GIF of some big boobed porn star squeezing her fleshy tits together. Instantly, Mark as he was now affectionately called, could feel all the blood rushing to his cock, a low groan leaving his open mouth, the stank of morning breath blowing out, but his bro didn’t care. He reached his big meaty hand into his sweats, at the same time his bro was doing the same thing. “Fuck brah, let me pull us up something good,” the dude said, using his sweaty pube covered fingers to quickly bring up a porn video, lesbians scissoring to be exact.

Their slick pussies sliding against each other, their titties bouncing. Mark couldn’t help it, even if a tiny gay voice was screaming in his head, begging him to remember that he was a gay boy who wanted to be fucked by frat boys, not be one. Mark was only hyper focused on the swaying tits and squirting pussies on the phone screen, he didn’t even glance over at his bro jacking his cock because that would be gay. No one in this frat was a queer. Least of all him.

Once he busted his load to the moaning MILFs, he didn’t even clean up, he just shoved his thick cock into his sweats and stretched out, shoving his bro away as he squeezed out a hot protein fart. Everyone laughed, breathing in the hot fetid stench, loving the sense of brotherhood in the house.

Everyone except for the old Marcus, that is. But this is the prime of Mark’s frat boy breeder life.

[nonamealphajockbro]

Stank Prank

BRAAAAAP

“Whoooooo! That was a BIG ONE!”

I cringed and plugged my nose as I leaned over my paper. Brayden was at it again. He had brought his nasty friends over and was having a farting contest with them. I didn’t understand why he had to be my roommate. Why couldn't he be staying at one of the nasty frat houses or with his other jock friends? Why did I have to be the one who was forced to listen (and smell) an orchestra of farts and burps while I studied. I tried talking to the housing department about it, begging for a different roommate. I would have taken literally anybody else, but they said that there was nothing they could do. I was stuck with him. 

Ever since the day I first moved into the dorm, I had been subjected to the tortures of Brayden’s flatulence. Over time I had gotten mostly accustomed to the smell (a bucket full of air fresheners helped to keep my room mostly stench free), the sound is something I could never get used to.

BUUURRRPP

“Man that was NASTY!”

Even with my door closed, earbuds in, and focusing on studying, I couldn’t escape it. Enough was enough, I slammed open the door and stared angrily at the trio of jocks sitting on the couch and laughing their asses off.

“Look who finally came out to join us!” Brayden stood up, his massive 6’4 figure towering over me. “The nerd emerges from his cave.”

“Would it really kill you to put on some deodorant? Or maybe a visit to the doctor would be more beneficial, all of that farting and burping can’t possibly be normal.”

“You’re disgusting.” I said bitterly, “But then again I’m not surprised, I wouldn’t expect anyone other than a group of dumb, hairy animals to smell the part.” Brayden’s two friends snickered and made overexaggerated gasping sounds. I allowed myself a bit of a smirk, maybe this’ll put that jock into his place. 

Brayden seemed unfazed by my insults. “You know, I really wish you were more like us, man. You’d be really fun to have around. Plus, you look like you could pull off some NASTY shit.” “I’d rather do anything then regress to your level.” I huffed and slammed my door shut, muffling the sounds of their laughter. 

The next evening I came back to the dorm to find the place abandoned, no sign of Brayden or his dumb friends. I sighed, finally I would be able to be alone and get some studying done in peace and quiet. I closed my bedroom door and set down my stuff. Better get started before-

BRAAAAAP

I jumped out of my seat, was that me, or was that Brayden announcing his entrance? Further inspection revealed that there was nobody at the front door, which had to mean… Before I could even begin to imagine how Brayden would have reacted if he could have heard that, I spotted something red on the chair. I walked over and picked it up, a whoopie cushion.

“Verrrrry funny, Brayden.” I said aloud. “But if you think that-” I was interrupted as a pungent smell assaulted my nostrils. The whoopie cushion, there’s no way it could have created a smell right? I squeezed it again.

BRAAAAAP

Yup, it was definitely the whoopie cushion. But how was that even possible? And how did it smell that bad? I put the whoopie cushion down on the floor. There was probably some kind of fake fart spray coating the thing. Now, back to work, I really didn’t want to waste any more quiet time before-

BUUURRRPP

“Little bro I’m back!”

Fuck.

I started walking towards the door, exams were coming up and I really needed to study so I was prepared to BEG for some silence. As I made my way across the room, I tripped over the whoopie cushion

BRAAAAAP“Whoa little bro, that was a nasty one!”

The smell tripled in intensity, as I tried to get back up to open a window, my legs gave out and I fell back down onto the cushion.

BRAAAAAP

My eyes began to water. Every inhale of the pungent stink was making me feel lightheaded. After some struggling, I managed to stand up, I felt woozy, like I had inhaled laughing gas. It was getting harder to think, so hard, why think at all? I blinked. What was I SAYING? I tried to hold my breath as I opened the door, but found myself breathing heavily as the fumes coursed through my body. I flung open the door and stumbled into- my bathroom? Wasn’t I trying to leave my room? I’m so stupid I must have gone to the wrong door by mistake, heh. What the fuck was happening? As I tried to collect my thoughts, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I looked… good. My arms and chest appeared bigger and more toned and I felt taller. It must the the smell making me see things there’s no way-

BRAAAAAP

…

That one came from me. 

BRAAAAAP

That one too. 

With each fart, I found myself getting taller, more muscular and toned. My pale computer nerd body melted away into a sporty physique. 

“Come on little bro don’t you understand? You’re no fun, so I have to make you fun. I can’t believe that whoopie cushion actually worked! But the rest is up to me now. Did you know you REEK?”

I sniffed my armpits, they smelled awful. I began searching through the cupboards for some deodorant.

“Not that you care anyways.”

BRAAAAAP

That's right, I didn’t care. I loved my smell, I lived in it. Why would I want to get rid of it?

“You love being a stinky, smelly jock”

BRAAAAAP

“A dumb, stinky, smelly jock”

BRAAAAAP

“A stupid, dumb, stinky, smelly jock.” BRAAAAAP

With each inhale I found myself agreeing with Brayden. With each fart I found my old self laving. 

BRAAAAAP

BRAAAAAP

BRAAAAAP I was always a dumb, smelly jock.

I loved being a dumb smelly jock.

I began to take off my clothes.

Being dumb is so nice, no worries, no cares.

It feels so good to reek and smell like a man.

Each time Brayden repeated it, I found myself sinking deeper. My mind completely clouded over.

So dumb, so smelly.

I walked over to the couch and lay back on it, lifting my pits to let my smell permeate the room. 

“Isn’t that so much better?” Brayden asked, “It feels so good to be stupid and smelly, just like us.”

BRAAAAAP

[nonamealphajockbro]

[nonamealphajockbro]

The Tanning Booth

With @breedertfs

Chris approached the tanning booth, attempting to hold back the apprehension that suddenly flooded his system. Had it been silly to think he, a petite, pale kid from middle-of-nowhere Wyoming, could become a porn star? And a gay one at that? He was not a virgin, but his hole also had not reached the point of no return. He just needed the money, bad, and after a hookup had recommended this as an easy way out, Chris decided to try his luck.

Of course, Chris would try his best to stay safe in the industry, but the producer he had signed with had noted changes would be necessary. Even though his future audiences would know he was homosexual (some porn stars were just there for the money, not the sex after all), Chris understood he had to sexualize himself a bit more. He had followed the producer’s suggestions, shifting his diet and focusing on exercising different muscle groups. And now, just days before his first shoot, he was getting a tan.

“That tanning light is gonna change more than just that pasty skin tone,” the producer had joked, as if it was some kind of turning point. Yet now, standing before the menacing machine, Chris almost felt like it was. Deciding it was best not to dwell on his trepidation further, he took a step forward and heard the door click shut behind him. Waiting, naked and alone, Chris began to literally understand what it meant to do anything for money.

After a moment, a magenta light blasted the room in color, momentarily blinding Chris. The fan above his head began to run, slowly redistributing the air throughout the room. Chris felt himself relax, growing lighter as his shoulders began to droop. He did not register that the process had begun, the tanning spray emitting from the walls as droplets carefully coated his body.

The misting began at his feet, covering his toes before moving across the soles to the ankles and slowly carrying up. Due to his loosened consciousness, Chris did not see his tanned feet bloat larger. The toes crept forward as his feet widened, thickening out with a putrid odor as if to announce its grand entrance.

The spray had already moved on however, having stretched out Chris’s legs and added some definition to his calves. Dustings of hair began to emerge across his skin as the droplets darkened his thighs, inflating them to the point that Chris had to readjust and hold a wider stance. Now vulnerable, the droplets swept up across the front and back of Chris’s midsection. His buttocks billowed out into two juicy bubbles while a thick cock bloomed forward with his heavy balls flopping down.

Unbeknownst to Chris, the tanning booth was also laced with a minor stimulant, boosting his libido as it passed over the now properly-sized equipment for the porn star. The producer however knew this, smiling as he watched his newest employee begin to stroke himself absentmindedly through the camera attached within the tanning booth.

Chris began to moan as the spray glazed over his arms and chest. The hand tugging his much larger meat began to grow in size, gradually becoming fit to carry his massive load. Muscle spilled out of Chris’s torso as abs popped in one by one, followed by two pillowy pecs. To compliment, his upper arms ballooned appropriately, forcing his shoulders outwards as the vapor began to darken his neck. While the only physical change involved a fuller circumference, the changes in depth were apparent as each grunt of sexual elation grew deeper and more animalistic.

Finally came the head. At the exterior level, the tanning booth worked its magic over the pimply boyish offerings. Soft jaw replaced by crude angles, brow brought forward with more prominence. Bigger nose, larger forehead, crafting a perfect face oozing of breeding masculinity. But internally, the tanning spray was contaminating Chris’s identity, staining his individuality.

His personality, his background, his morals–all of was subject to corruption. If Chris was to be a porn star, then the producer had to get rid of any doubts or hesitations. He would have a new history, a new story as to how he got to this point, perfectly constructed to never leave or disobey his boss. Chris the hopeful American twink may have made a decent profit, but the rougher, tougher, gay-for-pay Russian stud Kristofer would certainly fatten his wallet. After all, the best gay porn stars were the ones only in it for the money!

So now, happily, the producer watched as Kristofer came to the surface, tantalizingly stroking himself off for his gay fans. The fans he cared nothing about. It took him a moment, but eventually Kristofer spotted the camera, giving it his signature wink while dreaming about which chick he would like to dump a load into before the producer had him on his next shoot.

[nonamealphajockbro]

Man Of Your Dreams

Wallflower Dylan is gifted a new psychedelic from his friend. Used to watching frat bros from afar he finds the pill seems to affect far more than his mind.

Intended this to be plot light but so it goes! Probably going to take this week off to avail myself to other authors entering my Viral Transformation Challenge! The next story will likely be my own take on the theme so look forward to that next week alongside those from a litany of other stellar TF writers! Until then! -Occam

Dylan was fairly straight-laced, going into his senior year of university he hadn’t strayed much at all from class besides tagging along with his friend from high school to some of the more boisterous frat parties. Said friend Tony was quite more of a wild child, often invited himself because he was the source of some of the more illicit substances to be found at these parties. He’d invite Dylan whenever he’d need a more sober pair of eyes, namely if he was planning on rolling or otherwise getting high on his own supply. Despite his mild manner, Dylan always hopped on the chance, going to ragers was supposed to be part of the whole college deal right? And besides, he didn’t mind the chance to ogle brazen men he would under normal circumstances be fearful of making eye contact with.

Knowing of his friend’s meek disposition, and repressed hunger for the most vulgar of men, when Tony hears of a crazy new psychedelic on the market he has a feeling Dylan might finally let his hair loose. Reviews say the stuff makes reality feel like a waking dream. Anything seems possible and to your body it might as well be. Steamier sources swear that dreaming about sex on the stuff is even better than the real thing. Tony, never concerned about side effects of his material, gets straight to hitting up the usual channels to see what he can get and is able to scrounge up a single pill of the stuff. He wonders if he should try it out himself first before deciding he owes his friend at least first dibs.

Dylan is floored at how quickly he agreed to taking the pill. After initially being standoffish at Tony’s suggestion that he use it to fuck frat bros in his mind, once his friend started explaining what he’s heard Dylan couldn’t pass up the opportunity to really live out his fantasy. He’s not going to outgrow being a wallflower, nor is at all confident that any of the performatively masculine men would fuck him. Staring at the pill the only thing holding him back is Tony’s vapid instructions. ‘Just have a blast dude, fuck your way through those bros hah!’ Dylan’s asking about the side effects falls on deaf ears as Tony just crassly humps the air to try to convince his friend to go out on a limb. Despite his qualms and fears, and the lack of confidence inspired by Tony’s actions, Dylan feels sure that his friend wouldn’t give him something actually potentially dangerous.

Holding tight to that misplaced confidence, as soon as Tony departs Dylan pours himself a glass of water and chokes the pill down. The small tablet leaves a metallic taste in his mouth, quickly hidden by the copious amount of saliva and bile starting to rise in the back of his throat as he immediately feels the urge to vomit. Man of will despite appearances, he keeps it down and just as soon scowls as he thinks about the lack of preparation offered by his friend and prepares to tear into Tony as soon as the trip is over. Standing up he feels the room spinning around and murmurs in shock, “su- surely it’s shouldn- work this… fas-” He stumbles over to his bed and falls face down as he feels his body growing sweaty.

Before his well-practiced anxiety response can rise his mind is flooded with every pleasant hormone it’s able to produce. Every muscle in his body tenses and he feels his cock struggle to force itself erect in the awkward position he’s fallen in. Dylan moans as every sensation sends signals so intense and potent that his mind can barely maintain consciousness. Indeed he finds himself struggling to even hold his eyes open as his eyelids grow weighty. Even perfunctory bodily functions feel erotic as he begins to fade, the burning of cold air in his stretching lungs, the sound of his own heartbeat and the warmth of blood coursing through his veins. Drool immediately pools under his head as he crests into a stuporous induced unconsciousness, far too unprepared for what awaits him in his trip, and the new world he is to encounter afterwards.

Dylan is sitting in a chair across from a man he knows too well and not at all. Face to face with Ben Harrington, president of Beta Delta Alpha, Dylan has to push down the immediate rush of fear. Taking a breath he reminds himself that this is a dream, one that Tony swears he should have pretty lucid control over. As the president stands opposed, leaning on nothing he flexes his arms and the pastel button up Dylan usually sees him clad in changes into a t-shirt with the sleeves torn off. He smirks as he pushes sunglasses up his face and speaks in a tone intoxicated, under the influence of nothing but Dylan himself. His raspy voice sends a shiver down the meek man’s spine as he feels himself unable to retreat, “So, uhh, Dylan is it?” 

Approaching enough to touch him, Ben puts an arm over Dylan’s shoulder, exposing his clearly unwashed pit. Dylan takes a deep breath and forces his eyes closed from the burning over-stimulation of this man baring down on him. Still, from the sticky breath blowing across the face it's clear he is continuing to inch even closer, “You want me do you?” Dylan gulps as the man gets even closer, Ben’s lips almost touching his own, “Or do you just want to be me?” This takes Dylan out of it as he steps back away from the imposing man. Eyes opening he tries to manipulate the scene as Tony implied he should be able to. The Ben of his mind tilts his head and tsks, “‘Fraid you’re not the one in charge here after all.”

Ben closes the gap once more and throws his arm around the easily manhandled Dylan pulling his body against his own sweat stained form. He smirks and leans in directly to whisper something into the dreamer’s ear, “and if you do really wanna fuck me, well. You’re gonna have to become something more my type. Yeah?” Dylan blinks in surprise, he’s heard of bad trips and the like but something seems decidedly wrong here. Before he’s able to come to any cogent conclusion the dream Ben reaches down his free hand into Dylan’s pants. His sweaty hand instantly wraps around the smaller man’s balls and squeeze. Dylan hasn’t a chance to scream in shock he feels himself lose control. Of his body, his mind, and the world around him as he begins to fall back.

He’s humping the air as he’s falling into an abyss. He doesn’t feel the fear that this descent should evoke. Usually nightmares that turn this way immediately blast him back to consciousness, instead it fills him with adrenaline that only heightens the delight coursing out from his cock. Sure that he’s now laying face down in a pool of his own semen in the real world, Dylan does what he can to focus on the pleasure as intended. 

The sound of wind tearing past him makes him unable to hear his moaning screams as his clothes are shredded by the searing gale. Rapt in delight, the blaring gusts begin to slow. Air caresses him like a full body hug and suddenly he is deposited onto soft ground. Dylan doesn’t quite repose as his body continues convulsing. Cum begins to sprinkle down on him from the plethora of loads released during his descent and he finally finds wherewithal to paw at his crotch. Grasping at his balls he finds them unmistakably larger, “Wha?” No longer falling, Dylan opens his eyes and seems to be back in reality.

Dylan awakens and blearily rubs his eyes with clearly semen stained hands. “Oh what the, ugh- Am I awake?” His eyes take a few seconds to adjust to the lighting of a room that is decidedly not his bedroom. “Can’t be right?” Shaking the mess off his hands without a second thought he stands to his feet with a grunt and feels his cock bobbing, still impossibly rigid. His hands return to this turgid beacon before they almost happenstance fondle his balls. His sluggish mind struggles with how heavy and large they feel, nothing like the ones he has in reality. He smirks as the last words of Ben snake through his mind- “Become something more my type.” Who’d’ve thunk the president was into horndogs.”

Sniffing the air he begins to inspect the room surrounding him. Dirty clothes litter the floor and he finds a pervasive musk filling the air. Something in the back of his mind itches that there should be a can of axe around somewhere to cover it up, which he ignores for a number of reasons. He should be able to will the room to stop stinking. He certainly wouldn't do so with cheap body spray, and for the life of him he can’t bring himself to want to. Each deep breath of the stink he finds himself growing even hornier. Dylan feels his balls churning as he grasps them, he’s already cum a good number of times and yet he still craves release. 

He imagines the firm ass of a frat brother and leans against his dresser he uncontrollably begins to hump once more. Something flickers at the back of his mind yet again and he rips into an open drawer. Throwing clothes onto the pile of dirtied garments already littering the floor, Dylan removes a fleshlight which he proceeds to make exuberant use of. No time for his mind to question why he’s suddenly a top as his cock fills the sex toy more with every grunting thrust. 

Pubes scratch against his thumb as his crotch shifts into one that would instantly render a razor unusable. Likewise hair that has never even had to be controlled on his ass begins to thicken, growing itchy as a true jungle of curls begins to flourish on both sides of his waist. Soon enough his cock grows large enough that the toy is rendered unusable, with a furrowed brow and ungrateful grunt he tosses it to his room leaving it dripping on the floor as he somehow remains just as sexually unfulfilled as when he began, “Fuck I need the real thing…”

The real thing not present Dylan looks down at his cock and gasps as he sees what has become of his package. He doesn’t have a ton of sex but he usually keeps it clean and pretty hairless down there just for his own sake. Beyond the forest of pubes thick enough to get his hand stuck in, he covers his mouth in shock as he sees a veiny cock larger than he’s ever seen on a man with the low hanging massive balls to match. He does his best to focus up on anything besides how horny he is, but as pre continues to trickle from his hardened cock that becomes increasingly difficult. He bites his lip and looks past his throbbing cock at the floor. If he puts it away perhaps it’ll quiet of its own accord.

Dylan doesn’t pay heed to which clothes are clean or dirty as he throws on whatever best could hide his cock from his hands and mind. Nor could he notice just how far cleanliness and decency have fallen as priorities for him as he struggles to fit his package in clearly stained sweatpants. Itching at his waist as his pubes begin creeping up into a treasure trail racing to mee the spreading curls beginning to decorate his chest, his dull awareness finally notices that his whole body has begun changing. His thin arms have clearly put on powerful muscle from his mindless sessions of self-love, veins trailing down them make it difficult for him not to get straight back to masturbating at the thought of his own strength.

Similarly his eyes latch onto a chest that has somehow exploded into pecs without his knowing. Muscle that has never begun to grace his body now jiggles with every movement. He clenches his jaw hard trying to muster willpower not to give into his most basal urges, but as he feels his thighs fill the sweatpants he just threw on he wonders how long he could possibly hold out. His cluttered mind struggles to recall that he is on some kind of psychedelic trip as he fails to remember how long Tony said it would last. Instead swimming through dulling memories the voice of his, er, the frat president speaks up. “Ah god… You’re looking fucking good Big D. How’s your mind hangin’ in there?”

It takes a few moments for the words to sink in before Dylan can reply, “My, unh- mind?” His balls pulse as his eyes dash across the room while he struggles to think. God he’s been struggling to think this whole time. His cock lurches as he’s able to realize that every thought in his mind has been growing increasingly clouded. “Big D?” Dylan can’t help but smirk as his beyond impressive cock strains his sweatpants at being called Big D. He grunts as he tries to shake off the lusty delirium, “Need to chill out. Ugh. Sober up.” He hears the president tsk at him yet again, waiting with bated breath for the mans words his pecs bulge even larger on his chest. “Too late for that bro, just give in. Why have a trip into true unadulterated ecstasy when you can have a lifetime. You can finally be the man of your dreams.” 

As soon as the words of Ben, his president, are spoken in his mind it becomes clear that Big D doesn’t even have the ability to fight back against the ever-present urges that now control his body. He tears off the sweatpants that were barely holding in there as he fully give himself to whatever is calling out for him, the drug, Ben Harrington, whatever. His body bulks beyond measure to become man enough to carry the vulgar package that lies in his crotch. He masturbates into the leg of his sweatpants torn asunder as his torso bulks up, evidence of his endless celebrations as a man of Beta Delta Alpha.

Bestial body hair begins to cover his torso as his beard grows thick and dark. The tangle of hair in his pits thickens and spreads enough that it, nor it’s dominating musk, could ever be hidden. Muscle bulges on his arms large enough to haul kegs and toss out fuckers that get to rowdy at their festivities. Beyond apathetic to manicuring his appearance as he knows he’ll have people lining up at his doorstep regardless of needless things like hygiene or cleanliness he rubs his thick sweat covered thighs and feels how sensitive every inch of his skin has become. 

He smirks as he imagines, recalls rather, how constantly he gets to enjoy the sensual opportunities offered by his new form. He’s got all he needs dangling between his thick thighs and everyone who matters already knows it. The president certainly does. Big D smirks as he thinks of their vacations together on the frat’s dime. He puts his arms behind his head and sniffs his musky pits as he lays in repose, a thick cloud of musky sweat surrounds him as he begins to hear the sound of festivities breaking out on the floor below him and someone’s fervent footsteps racing up the stairs to his den.

Suddenly there’s a knock at the door and Big D imagines that some couple is looking for an empty room with urgency. He paws at his crotch excited to join in on their fun. Instead he sees some nervous looking guy who freezes as soon as he sees the behemoth, fear in his eyes. “D-Dylan!? I- That drug, there was something, something s-” He stutters and his hands shake as Big D rolls his eyes and stands almost two heads taller than he should over Tony, one of their frat’s little party drug dealers. Still, he wouldn’t have come up here for no reason. Big D silences him with a finger and slams the door shut behind him. Tony’s brow furrows as he looks around the room in confusion. Even his perpetually drug-addled mind can tell something unreal, something impossible has happened to his friend. “That pill can’t have done this right?” Tony takes nervous breaths and Big D’s musk rapidly fills his lungs, distracting him from whatever petty issue brought him in. Who cares about concern when his small cock is beginning to rise from simply standing near the priapic titan.

Big D’s voice rumbles through Tony, making him weak at the knees, “You wanna have some fun don’t you?” The drug dealer can’t help but nod and swallow the drool pooling in his mouth as the bestial Adonis stands over him, cock dripping ever-ready for another round. Tony isn’t sure if he’s started tripping himself or what, but as he begins making out with the frat bro he finds himself not minding as memories of whoever Dylan was disappear. After all pleasure is the most important thing, and no one is better at spreading heady delight than Big D.

[nonamealphajockbro]

[nonamealphajockbro]

Mass. Size. Steroid addict!

[nonamealphajockbro]

[nonamealphajockbro]