onelittlespiral

[onelittlespiral]

Drowned in Lust: Epilogue

I have too much picture of him, guess this is a good way to use it. The story before

"No, we're serious, get the fuck out from our place, fag," hissed DJ while staring at the cum-sprayed, ass-pounded and mouth-fucked, junior of his named Tommy

Staring at the two towering jocks in disbelief, Tommy gathered his emotion and quickly wear his jeans and t-shirt to cover the sweat-and-cum-stained wrestling lycra he's directed to wear by DJ

"No matter how great the sex was, you two are major asshole, y'know?"

"Oh boy, we know that. But at least it ain't bigger than your ass hole," quipped DJ viciously with a smug grin plastered on his face, no hesitation whatsoever in that tone to address the disheartened Tommy before he goes fully laughing

All the encouragement to keep trying for every inches he took in, the tender touches to make him more relaxed and open, the jokes both DJ and Chase let Tommy on as they impaled their cocks into both his mouth and his asshole, all crashed like it meant nothing with the way DJ and Chase coldly ordering Tommy to get out from their apartment.

As Tommy slammed the door, both jocks just stared at each other and grinned wickedly, yet another conquest to put in the memory book, another cocky jock placed in line and stuffed full with their well-endowed beast in their possession

---

Basking in the aftersex glow and charged energy of their apartment, DJ and Chase are lounging on the couch, sweatpants slung low, boxers peeking out while playing their phone.

"Fuck dude, that was really hot," DJ said, running a hand through his damp, sweaty hair. His chiseled hairy chest and abs glistened with a sheen of sweat. "I love when you fuck him while I'm in his ass."

Chase smirked, his blond hair perfectly tousled. "Know you do, bro. Boy's got like, no gag reflex. We really turned Tommy Bianchi into a total cock slut!"

DJ chuckled. "Damn right. And he has zero idea about what really happened here, just massive shame for revealing his submissive self to his two most trusted seniors. Fuck I'm hard once more just thinking how he moaned and calling us DJ and Chase!"

"Yeah bro, I legit went harder to pound that plump lips of his when he called me Chase LOL, drove me nuts to see such a bully turned into a pathetic boypussy. But anyway, what's your plan for today? Still going to hit the gym?"

"Hell yeah. Gotta keep these guns in tip-top shape!" DJ pumped his massive bicep. "After that, wanna make some Tik-Tok videos? Gotta keep up the followers, you feel me?"

"Yep, you got it. Fans eat these shit up, especially when we tease them with what they cannot have, Chase replied, also flexing his biceps and staring at his reflection in the full-length mirror.

"Oh, and don't forget 'bout the party this weekend. Got the whole wrestling team coming through. I am their most respected senior after all,"

"Fuck yeah! That's gonna be lit, bro. Maybe we can even mess with Tommy again there, or Ed, or even Andy. Must be fucking hilarious to threaten them to do what we ask or we will expose the way they spread their legs for us like the bitches they fucked," Chase said, a mischievous glint radiated from his eye. Both of them then caught each other's face before looking downward. When their eyes met again, they shared a knowing look.

As DJ stretched languidly, his sweatpants slipping even lower on his hips.

"Well, sounds like a solid plan till this weekend. But, judging on that still-raging tent on your sweats, why don't you come over here and start cleaning up these delicious pits and pecs? I can tell you're dying to get your face buried in my musk."

Chase's eyes darkened with lust. As if taking on the cue, he licked his lips and fully shifted his stance and demeanor into more submissive and needy

"Fuck bro, you know me too damn fucking well. Gotta pay homage to the real alpha stud."

He kneeled slightly before DJ's armpit, nuzzling into the thick hair of his underarm. Inhaling deeply, Chase let out a low groan. "Fuck, you smell so good. All man, all DJ."

DJ reached down, scratching Chase's head. "Mmm yeah, get in there deep, bro. No shame in showing some appreciation,"

Chase lapped at DJ's armpit, tongue swirling through the coarse hair. He kissed and sucked at the sensitive skin, worshipping the thick pectoral muscles. "Thanks man, your pits are seriously the best. Could get lost in this jungle all day."

"Damn right," DJ purred, abs clenching as Chase serviced him. "Best pits in all of the internet. Bet you love burying your face in 'em after we fucked the shit out of bitch boys like Tommy."

"Hell yeah I do," Chase mumbled into DJ's sweat-matted hair. "Only thing better is worshipping this thick cock of yours." Chase said as he grabbed the straining pouch in DJ's pants

DJ grinned down at his horny roommate, giving him an approval to explore, "Well don't be shy then, bro. Put that cum-hungry mouth to work."

Chase needed no further encouragement. He shimmied down DJ's sweatpants and boxers, freeing his huge uncut cock. It slapped against his stomach, thick and heavy, the bulbous head angry red. Chase licked his lips before wrapping them around DJ's cockhead. He sucked the tip into his mouth, tongue swirling around it.

DJ groaned, fingers curling in Chase's hair as he ripped his sweaty shirt off, "Fuck yeah, just like that. Love seeing that straight lips stretched around my fat cock."

Chase bobbed his head, taking more of DJ's thickness into his mouth. He relaxed his throat, letting the thick dick slide in deep. His nose nuzzled into the wiry pubes at the base of DJ's shaft.

Chase hollowed his cheeks and sucked hard, intense pressure engulfing DJ's cock. Saliva dripped down his chin as he deepthroated the massive meat, gagging and sputtering. But he didn't let up, determined to milk DJ dry.

DJ just sat back, relaxed and enjoying the warm, wet mouth on his dick. "Fuck Chase, I knew you'd be hungry for it, but mmmpphhh......damn, you devour that shit. Bet you've been dreaming of choking on my cock all day."

Chase pulled off with a lewd pop, strings of spit connecting his lips to DJ's cockhead. "You have no idea, man. I'd follow this dick anywhere." He dove back in, resuming his deep-throating.

DJ smirked down at Chase, eyes dark with lust. "Glad you love my cock so mmmmmmmMmhhh....uch, bro. Guess you're just cock-hungry like Tommy, huh?"

Chase moaned around DJ's shaft, doubling his efforts. He fucked his own face on that fat, veiny meat, gagging and slurping. Drool poured down his chin as he used DJ's cock to induce more saliva to be produced by his mouth, his own dick rock hard in his sweatpants as his mind aroused with the idea of making this straight mouth sucking cock of an equally straight-as-an-arrow dude like a pro Onlyfans creator.

The horny blond bobbed faster, seeking DJ's load. He sucked hard, tongue undulating along the shaft. Chase swallowed around DJ's head, feeling it throb on his tongue.

DJ groaned, abs flexing. "Fuck, gonnaaAAHHHHhhhhh...... cum soon bro. You want it all, every last drop?"

Chase gazed up at DJ with pleading eyes, nodding fervently. He sucked harder, urging him on.

"Yeah you want it that shit. You want your fucking straight roommate to flood that hungry mouth of yours with thick jizz?" DJ said breathlessly, rocking his hips. "Gonna nnngghhh..... seed that mouth so much cum, it will.....mmmfffuuucckk.....also fill that belly till you're fit to burst!"

Chase whimpered, sucking with renewed enthusiasm. Drool splattered onto his heaving chest as he deepthroated DJ's twitching cock.

DJ grunted, feeling his climax building. His heavy balls drew up tight, preparing to unleash a massive load.

"FUCCCKKKKKK FFUUUUUCCCCKKK NGGHAAAHHHAaahhhhh ggggoonaaa ccuu........" DJ said as he rocked his hips even more brutally, practically impaling Chase on his cock as he then grabbed Chase's neck to keep him still. Chase reacted with even more vigor as he expertly forced a swallowing reflex which caused DJ's cock to hit even deeper in its last seconds before burst while his tongue grazed DJ's middle part of the shaft. He wanted every drop of that seed, he craved it in his guts

With a roar and his eyes rolled to the back of his head, DJ exploded. His cock spasmed in Chase's mouth, firing off thick ropes of jizz. Chase swallowed it down, gulping greedily. He felt the hot seed painting his tongue and filling his cheeks, before flooding his belly.

DJ rode the waves of his intense orgasm, pumping load after load into Chase's eager mouth. His roommate swallowed it all down, not spilling a drop like a champ. In the meantime, DJ slumped back against the couch, chest heaving. Chase released his spent cock with a wet pop, licking his lips. "Fuck yeah, bro. You taste real good. Could eat this cream for breakfast every day."

DJ chuckled, scratching his sweaty chest. "Damn straight. No homo though, right? Just two bros appreciating a good cock."

Chase grinned up at him, face still flushed. "Right bro, no homo!"

The two towering wrestlers shared a smoldering look, unspoken arousal still crackling between them. DJ reached out, pulling Chase up into a passionate kiss. They made out heatedly, all tongue and clashing teeth.

Breaking the kiss, DJ smirked. "Alright stud, ready to hit the gym? And maybe join me in the showers after?"

Chase's blue eyes darkened with lust once more, his mind already wandered to the sex he will have under the warm shower. "Hell yeah I am. Let's go, bro."

Hand in hand, the two stud headed out for another day of pumping iron, making content, and prepping for an epic weekend bash. Just two bros living their best lives – with a healthy side of cock-worshipping to keep things interesting and two nerds in control of their bodies with no one aware of the truth

[onelittlespiral]

The Perfect Boyfriend

It had been a great night. Probably one of the best dates I’d ever been on, if I was being honest with myself.

Anakin was adorable—small, lithe, with those wide, innocent eyes and that effortless charm. He had this way of tilting his head when he laughed, tucking a strand of his dark hair behind his ear, and every time he did it, I felt my chest tighten just a little. I was a big guy, broad and built, the kind of man who turned heads in the gym. And yet, here I was, completely enraptured by this tiny, delicate twink, feeling like some lovesick idiot.

Dinner had gone perfectly, conversation flowed easily, and when I suggested coming back to my place for a drink, he agreed with a coy smile that sent a shiver up my spine. Now, we were on my couch, bodies pressed close, his lips warm and eager against mine. My hands roamed his back, feeling the subtle ridges of his spine through his tight-fitting shirt. His hands, smaller than mine, traced along my jaw, sending jolts of pleasure through my body.

And then—disaster.

It started as a low, ominous sound, a gentle vibration against my thigh. My brain barely had time to register what was happening before the smell hit me like a brick wall.

Thick. Pungent. Unholy.

It clawed its way up my nostrils, searing itself into my sinuses like a brand. I stiffened, my hands instinctively gripping his waist. He giggled softly, shifting on my lap. Another one slipped out, hotter this time, the scent intensifying like a bomb had just gone off between us. I tried to play it cool.

“Uh, hey… you, uh—you okay?” My voice cracked slightly, my brain scrambling for an exit strategy.

Anakin nuzzled into my neck, his breath warm against my skin. “Mmhmm.” Another burst of rancid air seeped into the space between us, curling around my face like an inescapable fog. I coughed, tried to turn my head discreetly, but it was too late. My lungs were already compromised. The stench dulled my senses, made my head swim. I needed to get out—needed fresh air, but my body wasn’t cooperating. My muscles, usually so reliable, felt heavy, sluggish. My tongue was thick in my mouth, my thoughts slipping through my fingers like sand.

“Y-you know, maybe we should—uh—should call it a n-night?” I mumbled, trying to stand. My legs wobbled. I sat back down with a graceless thump.

Anakin pouted. “Aww, but we were having so much fun.” He shifted again, and another wave of pure evil erupted into the air, wrapping around me, invading my very being.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to center myself, to fight against the growing fog in my brain. I was stronger than this. I was a man—a man. And yet… The warmth of the stink wrapped around me, seeping into my clothes, my skin. It was inside me now. I could feel my resolve crumbling.

Anakin ran a hand down my chest, his fingers tracing lazy circles. “Relax,” he murmured, his voice honeyed and sweet.

I tried to respond. Tried to say no, I need air, but the words wouldn’t come. My lips moved uselessly, my brain too sluggish to form a coherent thought. I was losing. Losing to the stink. And as Anakin snuggled closer, releasing another devastating blast that melted what was left of my resistance, I realized something horrifying. I wasn’t sure I wanted to fight it anymore.

A deep, primal part of me still fought—still clawed at the edges of my mind, screaming at me to resist. I was strong. I was disciplined. I wasn’t some dumb, brainless jock who let a pretty boy turn him into a drooling mess. But the stench… oh god, the stench.

Anakin’s farts had already battered my senses, worn me down like waves eroding a cliffside. Each breath I took dragged more of his stink into my lungs, dulling my thoughts, making my body feel heavy and warm. I was slipping, my willpower draining with every second I spent trapped in his cloud of corruption.

I groaned, forcing my hands to push at his waist, trying to create space. “N-no… I gotta—”

Anakin simply giggled, his soft fingers tracing over my jaw. “Aww, don’t fight it, big guy. You were made for this.”

Made for what? My sluggish brain tried to process his words, but everything was getting harder to understand. And then he pulled out his secret weapon.

With a slow, deliberate movement, he lifted one leg and slid off his sneaker. The moment the shoe came free, a wave of concentrated, festering foot funk rushed into the air, thick and heady. My already weakened mind barely had time to register what was happening before Anakin—sweet, evil Anakin—pressed the inside of the rancid sneaker right over my nose.

I gasped in shock, inhaling a full, unfiltered lungful of pure, fermented twink foot stench. My brain short-circuited. It was over. The last vestiges of my resistance shattered like glass. My thoughts, my intelligence, my very self melted under the overwhelming power of his scent. The acrid, vinegary musk of sweat-soaked fabric and well-worn insole invaded every part of me, rewiring my brain, hollowing me out. Everything felt warm and fuzzy. Thoughts? Didn’t need ‘em. Words? Hard. Brain? Empty.

I let out a deep, dumb-sounding grunt as my body relaxed completely. My arms, which had been trying to push him away, instead wrapped around his tiny waist, pulling him in close. He giggled, knowing he had won.

“That’s a good boy,” he cooed, rubbing a hand through my hair. “You don’t need all those pesky thoughts. Just be my big, beefy boyfriend, yeah?”

I nodded, my heavy head lolling back against the couch. “Mmm… yeah… beefy…” My voice sounded different—deeper, dumber. Like my intelligence had leaked right out of my ears, replaced by an all-consuming need to obey.

“Good boy,” Anakin purred, shifting to straddle my lap. He let his sneaker fall to the floor, but the damage was already done. His scent had infected me, changed me. I wasn’t the same man I was an hour ago.

I was his now. His big, dumb, muscle-bound boyfriend.

It didn’t take long for me to settle into my new role. My old self—the strong, independent man who thought for himself—was long gone. Now, I was just Anakin’s big, obedient, muscle-bound boyfriend. I didn’t think much anymore. Thinking was hard. Anakin was much better at thinking than I was, so I let him do it for me. All I had to do was listen. And obey.

“Babe, go get me a drink,” Anakin would say, snapping his fingers, and I’d lumber to the fridge without hesitation, my body moving before my mind even processed the words.

“Rub my feet,” he’d hum, wiggling his toes in my lap, and I’d eagerly scoop up his reeking feet in my big hands, pressing my lips to his noxious feet as if worshiping a god.

I lived to please him. His happiness was my happiness. But sometimes—sometimes—that pesky little part of my brain, the last flickering remnant of the man I used to be, would stir.

Like the time Anakin told me to carry all his shopping bags through the mall. My biceps bulged under the weight of his endless purchases, and something deep inside me whispered, Hey, maybe this is a bit much… Or when he casually told me to massage his feet with my tongue. For a split second, my brow furrowed, my lips parting like I was about to say something. And every time—even the smallest sign of hesitation—Anakin would simply turn around, grin mischievously… and let one rip.

A deep, low brrrrrrrrpppffftttt would rumble from his tiny frame, a vile, noxious cloud slithering into the air and wrapping itself around my head. And just like that—poof!—any thought of resistance melted away. My eyes would go glassy, my jaw slack. The thick, putrid stench would flood my nose, creeping into my brain, softening it like warm butter.

Anakin would giggle, wiggling his fingers in front of my dazed, dumb expression. “Aww, is my big boy getting all fuzzy-brained again?”

I’d just grunt, sinking deeper into the fog, my powerful body going completely slack under his spell.

“Now,” he’d coo, booping my nose, “what were you saying, babe?”

I’d blink slowly, struggling to remember. Had I been about to argue? About to resist? No, that didn’t sound right. Anakin knew best. Anakin was everything.

“… Nothin’, babe,” I’d finally murmur, a dopey, love-drunk grin spreading across my face. “Just wanna… make ya happy.”

He’d giggle and pull me into his arms, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. “Good boy.”

And just like that, I was his again. Fully. Completely.

Obedient. Mindless.

Happy…

[onelittlespiral]

Barbearcue

Trevor doubts his boyfriend can host a real barbecue for their friends. After ordering the grill, both men find themselves gaining more than experience as their summer shindig draws near.

Age Progression/Bear TF! Who knew grilling could be so transformative? Hope you enjoy this tale of boyfriends becoming the old married couple they were always to be in time! -Occam

Charlie always prided himself on his abilities as a host. Usually it was game nights or Sex and The City rewatches, y’know stuff his crew of queens and nerdy twinks are expected to do. As the days quickly soared past warm and into searing, their little ragtag bunch started tossing around ideas for a proper summer shindig. 

He wasn’t sure which among their bitchy friends suggested a barbecue, but as soon as it was floated everyone hopped on the idea. Charlie was sure they were trying to get a rise out of him or otherwise push his buttons, but the young man was already rising to the occasion. 

“What do you think babe? Gas or charcoal grill?”

His boyfriend Trevor sighs as Charlie settles into his lap, knowing it’s already far too late to convince Trev to reneg on this idea. Weeks into his campaign on convincing Charlie to do something more sensible, Trevor has thrown in the towel and hopped onboard. Pointing at a random grill he offers his clear grilling expertise, “I mean what’s the difference right? Just do that one?”

Following Trevor’s haphazard finger, Charlie has half a mind to suggest his boyfriend isn’t taking this seriously enough. But then he sees the grill, and he can bring himself to look away. Trev’s saying something but Charlie can’t quite make it out as the sound of sizzling meat fills his ears, vision clouded by imaginary smoke that he can almost smell. His face reddens from heat that isn’t there. It’s perfect.

Eventually he comes to as his boyfriend shakes his shoulder, “All good babe?” He slowly nods as Trev continues, “Good, good- I was just thinking, don’t you think someone with a pool should probably host? I mean, it’s hot right? What kinda-” he’s stunned to silence as Charlie grabs his jaw in more brusque a manner than he intended. 

Turning to him with his expression bordering on a scowl, he releases his grip and responds, “We’ve already decided this babe, we’re hosting. Besides, I already ordered the thing.” Even as he says it he realizes it’s not true- he hadn’t placed the order yet. Or he would’ve sworn he hadn’t? Before he even had a chance to double take his laptop pings with both an order confirmation and shipping date. 

By Friday the pair were to be brand new owners of their new Grill-Master. Charlie awaits some retort from his boyfriend, but Trevor’s still stuck on how out of character it was for Charlie to grab his face like that. He wasn’t bothered by it, not in the expected way at least.

Really it was way hotter than it had any right to be. Trevor smirks as he jokes silently to himself that maybe this whole mess’ll man his boyfriend up a bit. Playing coy and hiding just how suddenly needy he is, Trevor learn in close for kiss, “Well, In for a penny I guess-”

While he’s in for a pound, it’s clear the stress of this impending shindig is affecting Charlie far more than it should. As soon as the grill arrives, Charlie sets to setting it up like a bat out of hell. By the time Trevor prepares some espresso and half thinks-up a bit, he wanders to the backyard to find Charlie’s grease covered hands already lighting the thing up, “Hah Hah! Oh ye of little faith, those bitches are gonna have the best burgers of their lives!”

Trev feels tension leave his shoulders hearing Charlie celebrate. He does seem quite the natural at this whole grilling thing, he tosses around the idea of ordering some novelty apron for him as he sneaks up behind his boyfriend for a hug. Throwing his arms around Charlie as he messes with fobs on the Grill-Master, he notices that his arms don’t reach as far around his boyfriend’s waist as they should, as they always have.  

Before he can pay too much attention to the man’s slightly altered figure however, Charlie nuzzles into the cheek on his shoulder. Trevor recoils in shock as the face rubbing against his own scratches like sandpaper. Falling back a couple steps he balks as Charlie turns to reveal patchy stubble decorating his jaw, “Everything alright Trev?” 

For their whole time together he’s never known Charlie to sport peach fuzz let alone stubble that must’ve taken a few days to grow. Racking his mind as he tries to understand how a face he sees more than his has grown such dense stubble without his notice. On the note of his inattention, lost to distraction Trevor doesn’t notice as Charlie closes the distance between them.

Now pulling Trev into a hug, allowing him to feel the new weight on his midsection, firm muscle between a barely present new layer of fat. Arms more muscular than he knows them to be, thicker biceps that threw together a grill in record time yank him close as he leans down to whisper into Trevor’s ear, once more scratching his face with new prickly stubble, “So babe, whaddya want for dinner?”

Biting his lip, Trevor tries to maintain his focus, but hearing his lover’s performatively raspy voice leaves him with little recourse but to melt in his arms. Worries fade away as he retires to an outdoor sectional. He may as well be kicking his feet and giggling as he watches Charlie work masterfully at the grill.

When dinner is served he is shocked at just how good a job Charlie did. I mean he’s no chef but he thought most of grilling was prep work and he didn’t remember his boyfriend doing anything of the sort. Before he can offer compliments to the chef, he’s interrupted by Charlie slamming a filthy hand into the table and, after a barely muted burp, exclaiming “Man! That’s a damn good burger huh, hun?” 

The words are like a freight train to Trev’s psyche, Charlie simply wouldn’t act like that. His eyes flicker from the greasy burger in his hands to the ever so slightly strained shirt Charlie has on. Something’s not right, something’s different. Unfortunately, after taking a thoughtless bite of the burger, his senses are swayed from pursuit as the intense flavor dulls any sense of concern.

The next few days leading up to the party continue like this. Trevor notices something strange shifting in his lover, some new hair in the drain, a beard growing thicker, more muscle decorating his upper body. His voice and mindset edging coarser, gruffer. He tries to question how his lover has stopped shaving, how a few curls have begun to peek up from Charlie’s neckline, but every query is waved off.

Trevor sees smile lines etching deeper near Charlie’s eyes as he prepares the grill for another dinner. Since it arrived he’s used every chance he gets to use the grill, easily pointing to the party as an excuse to hone his culinary expertise. And each time the meals he produces are all the better, Charlie’s talents progress far more than should be possible, almost directly correlating with every other impossible change that Trev can barely bring himself to notice.

Finally the morning of their little summer barbecue arrives. Trevor awakens to find Charlie stretching at the edge of the bed, grunting and complaining that his back feels worse for wear. Blearily rubbing his eyes, Trevor gasps as he finally takes in just how much his lover has changed. Somehow built more than he ever has been despite spending less time at the gym in the leadup to today. All over his form new copses of hair have sprouted, a jungle covers his chest while forests surge across his thicker waist and up from his burlier mitts.

Trev only stirs as the man he can barely recognize calls out to him in a huskier voice, “Alright there hun? Look like you’ve seen a ghost?” Beneath the thick mustache, Trevor sees the same tilted smile his lover has always had. Seeing it now puts his racing heart at ease. It almost reminds him of their wedding, uh, day?

Turning to look at the ring on Charlie’s ring finger, Trevor almost faints out from shock. Charlie races to his side before he can start to fall, “Hey hey hey honey!? It’s just a party, you know you can take it easy yeah?” Searching his face to find some semblance of reality, Trevor’s mouth tries to point out that Charlie didn’t use to call him honey.

Feeling a cold ring wrap around his own finger he resigns himself to whatever is going on, he’ll just play along. This is a dream, as soon as it ends he’ll wake up. And he’ll absolutely refuse to let his husb- boyfriend buy a grill, “Ugh- yeah, yeah I’m good, enough. So what’s the move for getting ready then?” 

Lurching to his feet, he pays no mind as his own body has slowly begun to change. Slowly creeping up from wider, thicker soled feet his legs begin to coat with furry curls. Hidden underneath a blanket clutched to keep warm as he wanders to a pot of coffee in the kitchen, his own chest is patterned with a jungle of hair that already begins to rival Charlie’s.

He’s never really liked black coffee, but as his uh- husband pours two cups and immediately starts drinking he hasn’t the will to do anything but do the same. Scratching his jaw, Trev is uncomfortable with the sound of scratchy stubble as it creeps across his face. He’s always wanted a real beard. Refusing to acknowledge it any further, he turns to appreciate the profile of the steaming dark roast in his hand. 

Watching Trevor stare off into the middle distance, with every sip of his own cup a joe Charlie’s stubble thickens and fills into a proper beard. With each taste he lets loose some grunt of satisfaction that Trevor feels should irk him, but instead he feels only affection. Such is the way after so many years of marriage he supposes, for a second that is. Then he rolls his eyes at himself for playing along a little too well. This does nothing to stay the muscle beginning to creep its way onto his form as years and experience continue to pile on him.

“Well Trev, I was thinkin’ I’ll probably get started grilling so it’s ready when the boys get in. And you can go ‘head and make sure the pool’s good to go.”

Trevor almost does a spit take before quickly swallowing and landing on laughter instead. “The pool huh? Guess I’ll prep the valet as well” Rather than latching on or continuing what must be a bit, Charlie treats the statement as real, “Oh you hired a valet? I don’t think any of the boys are gonna be driving y’know?”

Hearing Charlie refer to their friends as the boys twice in such short order for some reason sets him on edge. “Why are you saying that, the boys- like they’re so much younger than us?” Charlie puffs up his cheeks and scratches the back of his head. As he stands there his hair and beard begin to prickle with some greying hairs as across his muscular form, his initially defined muscle almost begins to readjust with age.

Feeling he’s stepped in it somehow he tiptoes around the subject, “Well Trev, I guess- I’m certainly no spring chicken, and you’re not that much younger y’know?” His eye twitches, they were always the same age. But looking at the man in front of him, scouring his memories, he does not find what age that is. Whatever. He gets back to the actual sticking point, “Sure. Fine, we’re decrepit hags- why are you bringing up a pool we don’t have.”

Tilting his head in confusion, Charlie halts preparing his grilling accoutrement and instead opens the blinds to their backyard. Trevor forgets even the wedding ring on his finger as he sees their backyard transformed entirely, surrounded by a few tables and an even more professional grilling set up than he remembered, there is a pristine swimming pool. He can scarcely find his tongue in his mouth as he stares at the glistening wind tossed waves splashing. 

Not aware of the mental strain his husband is currently struggling through, Charlie simply laughs as he watches his lover sprint to the water and begin splashing it on his face. For half a second he recognizes it as a desperate attempt to wake oneself up, but such a thought is easy to make sense of. Trev’s just sleepy, yeah.

 With a grunt Charlie hoists up as much meat as he can handle and wanders into the backyard too, humming to himself as Trev continues with whatever he’s doing. Lighting his grill and setting out his tools, Charlie feels content as he begins his favorite thing in the world. Trev playfully calling him a grill dad echoes through his mind, but as he stands at the helm of the barbecue, he can’t help but agree.

A beer materializes in his hands as he begins his joyous work. Words of caution from a doctor echo through his head as he takes his first sip, awfully early start to the day but shittt- he’s grilling! He’s gonna take it easy, besides if he chills maybe Trev’ll follow in his footsteps.

Setting the first meats on the tray, he continues daydrinking with every laid dog and placed patty. And as he does so something other than age begins to creep onto Charlie’s form. His tanned torso begins to expand as a few extra pounds begin to hang over his waistband. Trev always did say he wanted a bigger boy. Charlie grins as he pats his stomach as his gut slowly creeps larger.

Abs he only had for a few days in real time are promptly covered and then buried as he becomes the prototypical grill dad. No one wants a thin chef of course. Smoke and steam rising from the grill act as fertilizer to his new form, sending even more hair cascading across his burgeoning belly as his hairline begins to creep upward, more strands disappearing with every gained pound and indulgent drink.

Seconds standing there, stomach in hand patting its amassing mass, turn to minutes as he debates whether to go for his blase ‘kiss the chef’ or ‘I cook bear naked’ apron just thinking of them sends the man into a laughing fit. His uproarious guffaws made even louder and deeper by his heavier form finally stir his husband from his pathetic mumblings. 

Still poolside, Trevor looks up with wild eyes to find that his husband has continued to change even in spite of his pitiable attempts to wake. Mouth drier than dry as he looks up to find the man of his dreams standing behind the grill, hair growing greyer as his torso expands into a perfect, hair covered beer gut. Of course, that’s nothing new, Chuck- er Charlie’s always been the man of his dreams.

He said as much in his wedding vows? He’s pretty sure? Perhaps thankfully, seeing the man at peace preparing for the festivities, Trevor can’t help but begin to give into the new lives apparently thrust upon them. Just as Chuck had hoped. Feeling something dance in his stomach, and something more concretely rise in his shorts, Trevor stares at his husband of oh so many years and smiles.

Memories of their extended time together lengthen and blur in Trevor’s mind as his form races to catch up to Chuck’s. Hair pushes out from every square inch available on his form. While staring at Chuck’s grabbable gut does more than ignite passion in himself, Trev has always taken care to spend more time on his physique as the years crept by. Age a prime concern for any once twink, as smile lines began to show on his bearded face he only took that as a sign to hit the gym harder.

He did always try not to let aging bother him too much, after all he always wanted to set a good example for the younger generation. And the years have been quite kind, for himself and for Chuck. As a few grey curls begin to join the garden of fur that coats him from head to toe, Trevor stands and wanders to his husband’s side, only groaning a bit as he does so- fair enough, it feels as if he’d sat there on concrete for decades.

Scratching his new beard on his husband’s shoulder, he whines in a voice rougher, “Ughh- no one ever said being so- distinguished would make you feel so tired all the time~”  Chuck offers that half-bit a snort, “Think that’s just about all they say about bein’ old hun.” 

Huffing to himself, Trevor asks if his husband needs any help around the grill. Chuck reminds him he’s lucky that he’s even being allowed this close to his perfectly ordered set-up, “Nah, you just go relax and make sure the pool’s all ready to go.” He could tell something was bothering Trev earlier, but looking into his husband’s eyes, even as he made his meek little appeal, it’s clear that some weight had been lifted from him.

As the hour of the party proper approaches, both men settle into their new selves. The perfect host finishes his preparation and grills more food than their guests would ever possibly eat, though he’s already prepared to-go containers for them all- these kids, never eating enough! Relaxing as commanded, Trevor’s mind being allowed peace finally adjusts to the new world, his hair growing grey as his husband’s hairline thins in rapidity. 

And then the time finally arrives. In the end the pair do a wonderful job making sure that every twink, cub, butch, and doll in attendance cools off and feels safe. Chuck always strives to make sure his guests feel at home, and never is there a person he welcomes into his home that would be anything short of ecstatic to return. His new grill centric strengths having done nothing to dull his perfect host’s instincts.

Watching his husband do as good a job as ever from the pool, Trev can’t help but join in on the hosting fun. While the headline is of course his husband’s truly Michelin star cooking, should they offer those to home chefs, Trevor similarly enthralls their guests in a way only a gay old queen can. The younger folk find themselves drifting over to the man in the pool, waiting on bated breath as stories drip like honey from Trevor’s mouth.

The gaps in his memory fill in as he finishes his transformation into the perfect partner for Chuck, and his husband does the same in turn. By the time their guests leave, the two men who began the week as twenty something twinks shift into their final form of furry queer elders. Decorated with wrinkles and enough fur to clog their pool drain. 

Trevor apologizes for pressing his husband so hard at the start of this little operation, for the life of him he can’t even recall why he’d ever discourage his husband from grilling! As in literally, it doesn’t make sense. But hey, all things change in time. The pair do a wonderful job doting on their guests and making sure their gayborhood block should be well fed for the next few days.

Finally when the guests leave do the husbands get a moment to enjoy the summer day themselves. No party pressing down on them or strange confusing episodes rising up. No, now the two halves of one whole simply get to enjoy the lives in which they find themselves. 

Trevor sips on his drink as he watches Chuck finally step away from his grill and float on the pool. Truly the best host- the best husband anyone could ask for. Trev’d clean the grill for him as he dozes but he’s sure he’d get chewed out for messing with such a prized possession. No, for now he’ll just repose, and wait for whatever life sees fit to bestow upon them next.

[onelittlespiral]

The blizzard knocked out our power and heat, and so my roommate and I were freezing. “We could sleep together for warmth,” he suggested. “Uh, I’m not sleeping with another guy,” I said. “No offense man. Just not into dudes.” “Me neither,” he said. “Yet.” He showed me the hypno files he had on his phone. Most were for seducing women but they also included a straight to gay file. “No way,” I said. “Come on,” he shivered. “We just listen to it for tonight. Get all gay so it’s not weird for us to cuddle. We stay warm and by tomorrow it’ll probably wear off.” I would never have agreed to it if I wasn’t so cold. “Fine,” I said. “It’s never going to work anyway.” We both sat down on the couch with the phone in front of us. The screen began to flash a spiral and a voice floated out. “Drifting to sleep,” it said, “so relaxed and tired. All your cares are gone.” I felt my body growing heavy. Maybe it was working after all. “It feels so good to give in,” said the voice. “You’re just a horny little bimbo jock.” “Waaait,” I slurred. Something wasn’t right about that. I turned to look at my roommate and saw his staring blankly ahead. The last thing I remember seeing was his boner sticking out of the top of his pants. When I finally came to, he was smiling at me. “How do you feel?” He asked. “Cute,” I said, then laughed. I wasn’t sure why. “Me too!” He giggled. He put a hand on my chest, and that’s why I noticed we were both naked. Was that unusual? I could have sworn we were always naked. “You look so good,” he said, fingering my nipple. I loved when boys did that to me. I licked my lips. “Did the power turn back on?” I said, noticing that the lights and heat had started at some point. “I guess,” he said, drifting his finger down my belly to my dick. “And it looks like you’re turned on too.” I smiled. “You little slut,” I said, pressing my dick against his hand. “Whore,” he said, curling his fingers around it to jack me off. For a moment I felt like there was some reason we didn’t want to have sex tonight but I couldn’t remember what it was. All I knew was that we needed to trade come with each other.

Get more stories of transformation, power, and control: https://amzn.to/2Rhaw5G

[onelittlespiral]

Rainbow Jockstrap

Thanks for lettin' me borrow one of your jocks while mine wash, bro! It's funny, didn't think I'd like wearing a faggy rainbow jockstrap so much! It's like… I'm actually getting a kick out of how gay it is… and how gay it makes me look, like a total fag, bro! Yeah, a fag… a fag like you, bro. Just two faggy faggots, bro! Oh, sorry, I guess I shouldn't say that word, especially as a gay guy… uh! I mean, straight guy! Yeah, Straight! I'm straight… as a hard cock, bro… a thick, juicy, meaty, throbbing cock! A manly cock in desperate need to be sucked on by a horny fag, bro. Guys do give the best head… at least that's what I've heard... Huh? What? Oh, fuck! Sorry, bro! Didn't know I was pitching a tent, bro! I guess I just really like the way this faggy jock feels on my junk, bro...

You know, bro, it'd be a shame to waste this sick boner I'm currently rockin'. You wanna fool around?

[onelittlespiral]

Guys, I think those workout hypnosis tapes are doing something weird to me. Yeah, I’m getting big and muscular, but I’m starting to feel so … dumb. Like a big dumb slutty jock, haha. Is that even a thing? I don’t know why, but every time I get back from the gym I just wanna get naked and show off my body. I wanna get fucked. I wanna be a little slut. I used to be so smart and now I can’t remember anything. Do you like my new outfit? It really shows off my ass. I’ve stopped doing arm and chest workouts and now it’s all about getting the biggest butt I can. I really wanna feel my frat bros cocks in it, get all of em to fuck me. Their stupid little toy, that’s me.

Get more stories of transformation, sex, and control: https://amzn.to/2Rhaw5G

[onelittlespiral]

Call for Inspiration

Exciting things to come this month but for now, writing a story to try to break out of a funk and get some tf inspo, looking for any names or photos that could be a good reference for the story I’m working on: Got an office worker tied up who was looking to steal some corporate secrets. After this little stunt I’m not sure he’s cut out for accounting anymore. How should we make sure he’s a better fit?

As always, messages and asks are open. Happy Gay!

[onelittlespiral]

Be Careful What You Wish For

"God I wish I wasn't doing this shit anymore with this AI bullshit..."

Professor Lawrence was sick and tired of his job. He was sick and tired of the long hours. He was sick and tired of the failing students. He was sick and tired of the lousy pay. But most of all he was sick and tired of the AI.

It had only been a month into the new semester, early in October but he couldn't take it anymore.

He swore that ever since all these stupid chatbots, AI assistants and whatever else started coming out, it had made a job that was stressful but bearable just stressful. Now he couldn't even use his own passion for teaching as an excuse. After all, what the hell was the point of teaching if all his students could just put any test answer or essay question in a chatbot and then suddenly it would pop out an answer? He thought he was shaping the next generation but it felt more like trying to toss water out of a sinking ship.

It was one of those evenings, where the heat was unbearable and the day was stressful and every minor inconvenience that could have happened just did. Whether it was a shirt being caught on a doorknob or a trip in front of the entire lecture hall of students, mumble over his words or spill coffee on his laptop. Thankfully, after trying to boot it up for another hour, it finally loaded.

"Thank fuck, let's see what I missed..."

Lawrence wasn't sure he was going to miss much. After all, he had just given his students an assignment, a simple essay to talk about the transformation in Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. It was an easy book especially for some college seniors and the essay itself was a laughable 3000 words minimum. He was sure that there was no way someone was going to use AI but of course, when the first few essays were submitted later that evening, he had the uneasy feeling it was used.

It...perhaps didn't help that shortly before the coffee spilled over his laptop...there was a reason for it. He was madly typing in his office, lecturing a student over email that just because they might find an essay hard, there was no way that it should allow them to use AI and he was going to fail them. But it devolved further and further into a rant about AI.

That's when all his frustration made him knock over some coffee he was drinking even when it was later into the evening and things went from bad to worse.

As soon as his laptop booted up again, he checked his emails. The student had replied.

Dear Professor,

Hey professor look i get what you're saying and all that but trust me AI is a tool just like spellcheck or google it's really not that bad. i think it's just a new way of students doing things and im sorry if it made you mad. but i really think you could benefit from it or give it a try please?

heres some ai stuff you might like.

from jacob

This prompt has been rewritten to be a lot more casual and calm compared to the original message!

Oh for fuck's sake.

He even left in the part from the AI bot where they talked about how much they had to rewrite his own goddamn email.

Ugh.

However, there was at least one genuine part of the email. There were attatchments, links at the bottom which pointed to different kinds of AI bots. Only one was in bold though.

AI RP. Get what you want.

The hell did that mean? AI RP? As in roleplay? He could maybe understand why someone would use an AI bot for writing an essay, but how would someone use it for roleplay? Still, curiosity caught the cat and Professor Lawrence clicked it, greeted to a bright white page with a shifting logo of a spiral and bold text which read:

Wish Bot.

There was more text at the bottom of the search bar

Create or play scenarios to live out your fantasies. Make a wish.

That's when Professor Lawrence had groaned and said those infamous words: "God I wish I wasn't doing this shit anymore with this AI bullshit..."

He just never noticed until a ping that his mic had been on. The text was perfectly transcribed as he blinked his eyes open and looked at the screen.

You wish for...a different life. Wish granted. Prompt generating...

You are...Professor Lawrence...You are 36 years old...You are a Professor of Creative Writing at Beaufort College,Massachusetts.

"The fuck?" Professor Lawrence blinked. How the hell did it know all this stuff? Was it just searching him up and getting all his information from the college website or something?

Your new life will be...

College Senior.

"Uh as if," Professor Lawrence scoffed. There was no way, even with some written passage about what his life would be that he'd be-

Your cock will grow to eight inches.

"What the he- OHHHHHHHFFGHHHH!"

There was a sudden wet slurping coming from Professor Lawrence's cock as he suddenly felt it churning. As if it was made of clay with invisible hands playing at it, the cock had suddenly began to start growing. He could feel two hands rubbing it, stretching it, making it grow slicker and bigger as it was wet with sweat and pre-cum as the cock continued to churn and grow. The changes were drifting down toward his balls where the same change was happening, his own balls growing heavier with a younger, more virile seed that his body hadn't felt in nearly a decade and a half at least as he leaned back.

"N-No"-" Professor Lawrence tried to reach out to the computer, to type something, to get rid of the window screen. But then he felt the next jolt of pleasure.

You remember...college girls and guys sucking your cock...

"W-Wait, guys? But I'm not gaaahhhohhhhffckk-"

But then he suddenly got memories of a young hot roommate reaching between his legs, spreading them apart and he could feel their hot warm mouth around his cock. As they continued to suck and grow, it was as if they were draining all of Lawrence's intellect and memories as he could feel more changes pushing their way through his body, making room in the space that his old memories and IQ once took place.

Your ass...is so well toned...

The reality shifted again as his ass started to grow in his own seat, making it inflate as he wondered just how good it might feel to have someone in his ass. N-No, he thought. He had girlfriends and he was...divorced, wasn't he? Divorced...at his age? He was only 21, about to turn 22 that year, and there was no way a guy that young could be married and divorced already, he thought. He swore the new thoughts were in a deeper voice that started to match the tone of his new moans as the AI continued to dictate the changes.

Your feet...are huge and musky...

And they were. Fuck, he had never been into feet before but the jock guys had such wide big feet and he coudln't get the thought of him worshipping the soles and taking the toes into his mouth or sniffing their sneakers out of his mind. All of it made him blush with embarrassment and arousal as the previously straight professor continued to feel himself getting hard and leaking over thoughts of being with guys.

Meanwhile, his own feet were getting more musky and manly. As the toes began to press against the tops of his scuffed loafers before suddenly-

A loud and long burst pierced the air as his toes from both feet finally pushed, and the shoes gave in to the pressure at once. His soles continued to thicken and grow, lengthening and pushing out as there was a sensitivity to them. He could imagine his feet getting sweaty from all the sports he was playing and time at the gym, just another host of new memories that were filling Lawrence's mind as his thicker ass finished rounding out and growing in his seat. Blonde hairs started to grow at the inflated cheeks whilst his own musky large and fair feet had finally broken off the rest of the shoes, the scraps turning into sandals.

Your muscles are just so big bro...

"F-Fuck oh fufgcvkk n-no moreeee-" Lawrence whined as he tried to fight his hands urge to take off his glasses. But the growing hands seized control as the glasses came off, and as they did, he swore his eyesight was already starting to look a lot less blurry as if his vision was being restored. But he grimaced and shut his eyes again as his hands managed to get back under his control. He kept ahold of the glasses, as if keeping some sort of artifact of his life would make him resist whatever these changes were.

The pleasure was almost mind breaking, the sensation of the flared head of his new cock being teased. It had genuineyl felt like an entirely new appendage with all the feelings of having never been touched before, the high sensitivity and the massive amount of cum that was churning in his heavy large balls. The more he resisted the urge to cum, the more his muscles began to grow.

Much like his body was a balloon of sorts, his mind became split between resisting the urge to cum so as not to gvie in and resisting the urge to cum to grow bigger. He could feel his biceps tense and inflate, thickening as the muscles split and repaired and split again creating a heat and stinging pain that mingled with the pleasure and almost like it was some sort of BDSM, the pain felt good.

Lawrence's arms had never been so muscular or strong in his life, as years of basketball practice and football started to spark in his mind over studying and years of lectures. As he forgot about his planned lecture for tomorrow's lesson, he remembered a basketball game with his bros yesterday and the locker room where he stripped to reveal his more muscular body.

All the while his mind was splitting like the fabric that was containing his newfound muscle, tearing apart at the sleeves as the buttons of his shirt were popping one by one. Each pop was accompanied by a moan and wave of pleasure, his voice growing almost louder and higher as his cock continued to throb and the flared tip of the head tingled and leaked more. He swore one brush against the opening would make him cum but he could barely move his hands, still barely able to hold onto his glasses even.

His pecs were next, beginning to inflate and grow so large that they almost felt like a pair of tits sprouting on his chest. Lawrence's new bisexuality, made him enjoy playing with them and his erect nipples all the same, moaning loudly and blushing at how wet he was getting. They may as well had been a pair of tits on his chest because from how high pitched his moaning had become and the wetness drooling from the cock between his legs, he felt almost as if the bot could somehow turn him into a woman.

But then from his very own touch, he could feel the pecs lose some of that mass, hardening and pulling more taut to his own chest as hairs that he couldn't grow before started to sprout. They still weren''t much and hard to see with how blonde they were but what could definitely be seen were his abs. No longer subject to a pot belly from years of takeout and lack of excercise, the fat sucked and schlorped in wetly before the mass was mostly converted to muscle. A hard set of abs formed out of the stomach and he could imagine how good it would feel to be such a slow off, such a slut and wear crop tops or flash his abs.

All that was left to change as his back stretched because...

You were 5'9...160 pounds...23% body fat

You are now 6'1...177 pounds...12% body fat

There was his face.

By then the hands were too large and too calloused, masculine, new to still be under his control and they tossed the glasses away.

As Lawrence felt himself give more into the pressure, the pleasure, as his beard started to sink away. His receding hairline inched forward until it looked better, more youthful for his face where wrinkles and eyebags no longer existed. He had the energy to party hard, do all nighters, play his sports, not fall victim to the visual indicators of years of stress.

But most of all his face wasn't just growing younger. It was getting different. His facial structure was rearranging as he could hear the bones shifting beneath the skin, feel his jaw click before it suddenly grew a lot more chiselled, even sharper without a beard. The skin itself had grown smooth, no longer subject to various scars, acne, blackheads or more. Instead his (mostly) healthy lifestyle and a surplus of good genes had left his skin looking smooth on the visage of a model. His lips grew more plump, perfect for the himbo that he was, a mouth of white teeth and cocky lines he was more than cute enough to get away with. Even if it cost him some of his IQ that was leaking out of his wet cock that was pooling all across the floor, it was just too much to give up.

His hair spiked blonde, toussled in a kind of haircut he hadn't had in years, not since...

"Ohhh- Oh fuck...Ohhh godssdh n-no not...there...oh my god...Oh. My. God. I'm gonna cum...oh fuck I'm gonna cum so much I- I can't ohhh fu-fuck feel so good please I'm gonna cum, wanna cum, I wanna cum so bad, oh my god I'm gonna-" His voice had become high pitched, whiney and perfect for the hot slut he was as the last of Professor Lawrence's intellect realised exactly what was happening. He wasn't just getting the body of a college senior. He was getting back to being a college senior, to his senior year, back in 2010, back before AI...so back before the chat doing this even existed, meaning...

He didn't know what it meant.

All he knew what to do.

What he wanted to do.

All he knew is.

He really.

Really.

Wanted.

To.

Cum.

Thick ribbons of cum shot out of Lawrence's wet throbbing cock spilling his seed, his intellect, his memories, his reality all over the floor for it to start fading away much like so many things around and a part of him. All he could do was let himself throb, lean back and continue to cum again and again and again each throb, each cum, each wave of orgasm and pleasure setting him back a year from 2025...a few more to 2020...then once to 20119...a big orgasm that seemed mingled together set back all the way to 2015 and on and on and on as he continued to feel like he was cumming out his brains.

Perhaps because that's exactly what he was doing.

When he tried to open his eyes, only one eye opened, half-lidded, twitching, cumming again and again as the pleasure pulsed through him and like a raucous wave within just washed everything away like a tidal wave coming to just consume anything in its wake. All he could do was let it consume and let it out as he shook so much in his chair from the spasms of pleasure it was no wonder he didn't fall out as his naked hot self continued to cum again and again and again...

Until he woke up.

"Mmm fuck dude, that was so fucking hot..." It was hard to be a guy into guys, even if it was 2010 as his new iPhone 4 said, October 11th to be exact. He licked his pretty lips, grunting and groaning as he tossed the Kleenex he shot in right into a dustbin to be emptied out later. He quickly opened his webcam, checking himself out to make sure he still looked okay and not too dishevelled. It was weird, Landon couldn't even remember much of his day, but then again it was 10 in the morning, so not like he woke up that much earlier. "Looking good as always."

Landon chuckled as he checked himself out in the webcam, unable to help but bounce his pecs a little as he relaxed and got up, somehow forgetting he missed 9AM lecture but remembering enough that he had a basketball game with some friends in an hour.

Eh it's not that it mattered much. After all, with little to no responsibilities, classes he could skip whenever, all access to the gym and a bunch of bros, who would wish for anything else?

Well, he guessed the professors would but that's exactly why he wasn't one.

Thanks for reading! To read more stories like this featuring transformation and hypnosis, then check them out here!

[onelittlespiral]

Drowned in Lust

The air in Terrence and Julian’s dorm room hummed with a nervous energy thicker than the usual scent of crisp and sterile dorm room of two tidy nerd. Julian, perched on his worn desk chair, looked less like a college sophomore and more like a nervous raven – all sharp angles, pale skin stretched taut over bone, and a mop of jet-black hair that looked permanently wind-ravaged. He adjusted a crumbling leather-bound book, muttering under his breath, while Terrence, hunched on his bed, fidgeted with the hem of his t-shirt.

Terrence is a classic 19 years old nerd: glasses perched on his big nose, slightly too-large hoodie, luminous black skin because he's rarely outside and not because of skin care and a general air of intellectual curiosity mixed with social awkwardness. Right now, though, that curiosity is warring with a palpable anxiety. They are about to attempt something definitely not classic nor nerdy. The target, DJ, the university’s wrestling star, a hairy, musky, arrogant mountain of a man who embodied everything Terrence isn't.

“Okay, Ter,” Julian said, his voice barely above a whisper, yet cutting through the tension. “The sigil is drawn. The incantation is keyed to his astral signature – extracted it from the official team roster photo database, cunning, isn't it? – and the sympathetic link is established through… well, let's just say a small, personal item of his I acquired.” Julian offered a tiny, sly grin, which Terrence chose not to inquire about. “When I chant this, focus your will. Project yourself. Think of being him. His size. His… smell. His arrogance,”

"His smell?" Terrence swallowed hard

Julian nodded, eyes gleaming behind his own thick-rimmed glasses.

"Yes. A key identifier. You know how pungent it was, you sniffed it right on its source. Remember that moment when he shoved you but pictured yourself as the one shoving a nerd to his pits. Now, silence. And focus."

Julian begins to chant. The words are guttural, ancient-sounding, completely alien in the sterile dorm room. A flickering candle cast dancing shadows, making Julian’s angular face look even more gaunt. Terrence closed his eyes, trying to push away the image of DJ’s sneering face and focus on the idea of his body. Size. Strength. Musk. Confidence Arrogance. He then feels this strange pulling sensation, like his consciousness is a kite string being yanked violently.

Suddenly, the chanting stopped. Terrence’s eyes snapped open. He's not on his room any longer as the floor underneath him feels different, creaked differently, much more pressure.

He is standing up. His perspective is higher. Broader. Looking down, he sees not his usual slender arms, but thick, corded biceps covered in a surprising amount of dark hair. He feels a weight in his chest, a solid mass of muscle. The air smelled different – not ramen and linen, but… sweat. A deep, earthy, animalistic musk.

He is in DJ’s room in the Phi Kappa frat house. Sunlight streamed through a window overlooking the manicured lawn. Weights were scattered on the floor. A wrestling singlet hung on a hook alongside a damp Under Armour compression. He gives both a good whiff before deciding to put on the Under Armour, the musk is fresher and more......potent, more DJ, him.

As soon as he finished putting on the damp clothing, thrill sensation, hot and alien, shot through him. He flexed his hands. They are enormous. He runs one over his chest, feeling the coarse hair, the hard pectoral muscle beneath the tight black Under Armour currently hugging his body. He walks to the mirror. DJ stared back – broad-shouldered, his face set in a default expression of bullish intensity. He grinned, and the face in the mirror grinned back, a wide, toothy, slightly unnerving expression on that unfamiliar canvas. It feels… powerful. Intoxicating. Even more so when he takes a deep breath while flexing his biceps, the headiness of the sweaty musky pits and DJ earthy cologne stirred something for the newly-in-control Terrence

Julian’s voice, tinny and urgent, interrupted the lustful observation Terrence currently conducted as it comes from the small, enchanted pendant Terrence still clutched in his new, massive hand.

"Terrence? Can you hear me? Did it work?"

Terrence cleared his throat. The sound is a low rumble.

"Yeah, Julian. It worked."

"Oh my god," Julian breathed, awe and relief plain in his voice.

"Okay, excellent! Now, remember the plan. Gather what we need – his training regimen, maybe some contacts, intel on the team. Just observe, don't interact too much. And get back here as soon as possible. This link isn't permanent without constant reinforcement, and I don't want to lose you in there."

"Right, right," Terrence mumbled, already distracted. He stretched, feeling the incredible reach of the muscles in his back and shoulders. He rotated his neck, hearing the subtle clicks of bone and muscle. This body… it's amazing. He dropped the pendant onto a nearby dresser, ignoring Julian's increasingly frantic squawking.

He spent the next hour in DJ's room, utterly captivated. He flexed every muscle, noting the hard ridges of his abs, the thick columns of his thighs. He examined the hair covering his limbs and chest, the stubble on his jaw, the sheer, unholy presence this body exuded. He caught his reflection in the mirror, striking poses the real DJ probably practiced religiously. He knelt down, testing the strength in his legs, then stood up effortlessly. He sniffed himself, burying his face in the crook of his elbow, breathing in the potent, unique musk. It's not just body odor; it's the smell of raw power and animal confidence. It is everything he isn't, yet, confusingly, it's him.

The world outside felt distant, irrelevant. Julian's instructions faded into the background. Terrence is lost in the sheer physicality of being DJ.

Back in the dorm, Julian’s anxiety mounted with each passing minute of silence from the pendant. Terrence hadn’t responded in an hour. An hour! The astral link is stable for a while, but the longer Terrence stayed, the harder it would be for him to pull back, or worse, for the real DJ’s consciousness to fight back and potentially trap Terrence in a limbo, bodiless yet trapped inside a body that never really belonged to him

Julian paced their cramped room, wringing his hands. He knows Terrence is probably just overwhelmed, exploring. But Julian’s occult studies had taught him caution and the dangers of lingering in borrowed forms. He had to get Terrence back. He couldn't risk yelling into the pendant and alerting the real DJ that his body has been taken over by another entity. He needs to go there. To the lion's den.

Sneaking into Phi Kappa feels like navigating an enemy fortress. It's late afternoon, quiet between classes and evening activities. The front door is unlocked (of course it is), letting out faint traces of lingering party smells from the night before – stale beer, something vaguely chemical as if trying to suppress whatever smell emanated in from last night that is more stubborn to get rid off, and that same potent musk he’d only ever smelled on DJ and the rest of the jocks from a distance. Julian creeps down a hallway, his slight frame feeling ridiculously exposed to this animal lair. He listened for voices, footsteps. Nothing. Dead silent. Except one.

He reached DJ’s room – the door is slightly ajar. He peered in, his heart leaping. DJ is there, staring out a window, flexing a massive arm. Relief washed over Julian, quickly followed by a fresh wave of anxiety. DJ looked… lost in his own thought. Utterly absorbed.

"Terrence!" Julian whispered urgently, pushing the door open a crack.

DJ (Terrence inside) spun around, eyes widening slightly before narrowing into a look Julian knew all too well from the real DJ. A look of predatory amusement.

Before Julian could say another word, DJ is already across the room in two long strides. A massive hand clamped over Julian’s mouth, muffling his surprised yelp. The other arm wrapped around his back, pulling him tight against DJ's sweat-slicked chest. The musk was overwhelming up close, a hot, potent cloud that made Julian dizzy.

"Shhh," DJ whispered, his voice a low, hot rumble right next to Julian’s ear. Fuck......is this Terrence? Or is it the real DJ?

"Look what happened to the curious cat. Little Julian. Sneaking around the frat house?"

Julian squirmed against the iron grip, eyes wide and panicked behind his glasses. This isn't the plan! Terrence is acting like… like him. The real DJ. This might even be the real, unrestrained and fully conscious DJ!

DJ chuckled, a deep sound vibrating through Julian’s chest. He steered Julian backward, away from the open door, into a less visible corner of the room. He keeps the hand over Julian’s mouth, pressing firmly but not painfully.

"You shouldn't be here, man," DJ continued, leaning in close, eyes twinkling with something primal. "This ain't your world. All muscles, parties, and… ladies." He winked, a slow, deliberate blink that felt bizarre coming from that face. "Lots and lots of horny ladies. Couldn't keep them off me last night, man. Had to lock my door just to get a minute." He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "You wouldn't know about that, huh? Stuck in your room with your books and… rituals?"

Julian could only make muffled noises, his breath hot against DJ's hand. The sheer physical dominance is terrifying, even knowing it's Terrence based on that final hint because there's no way a bonafide popular and more senior jock like DJ is aware of Julian, let alone his interest in the occult. It is DJ’s body, DJ’s power, bearing down on him. And the smell… God, the smell. It is everywhere, thick and intoxicating, but it's still thankfully Terrence in control

DJ leaned closer still, his breath warm on Julian's ear.

"You look nervous, Jules. Haven't seen a real frat boy lair, have you? All that sweat… the smell… gets to some guys. Makes 'em weak in the knees. Ladies? Oh, they opened themselves easy," He paused, then slowly, deliberately, lowered his hand from Julian’s mouth.

Julian sucked in a shaky breath. "T-Terrence? What are you doing?"

The predatory glint in DJ’s eyes softened, replaced by an intensity that is purely Terrence now, but amplified by the commanding presence of the body he inhabited.

"I'm figuring things out, Julian." He stepped back slightly, but his large hands still rested lightly on Julian’s shoulders. "And I realized… acting like him…" He gestured vaguely at the room, at the body he is in. "...is unexpectedly fun." He looked Julian up and down, a slow, assessing gaze that made Julian blush furiously. "Especially when I know how you look at him."

Julian’s eyes went wide. "What?"

"Don't play dumb," DJ rumbled, stepping closer again. "I've seen you. Glancing away quickly. The way you sometimes linger near the wrestling practice room, watching me and the boys throwing and tackling each other. Wishing it was you huh straddled on the mat with cocks pressing with a jock in singlet? You like the… physicality, don't you? The power. The… musk." He lowered his head slowly, burying his face in Julian's hair, breathing him in. "You smell like old paper and nervous energy." He lifted his head, a smirk playing on DJ's lips. "He would just push you around, call you names. But I'm not him. Not entirely."

DJ slides his hands down Julian’s arms, then hesitated. Julian trembled, caught between fear and a forbidden, burning desire. He could barely think over the scent of DJ’s body, the sheer proximity to this overwhelming physical form.

"You came looking for me," DJ said softly, his voice deeper, rougher, than Julian had ever heard it. "Curious." His eyes held Julian’s. "Maybe you deserve a reward for your curiosity,"

He moved slowly, deliberately. He lowered his head again, not to Julian’s hair this time, but towards his shoulder, then lower, towards the chest encased in a thin t-shirt. Julian gasped as DJ breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of him. Then, DJ lifted his head and, with a look that was both tender and intensely focused, guided Julian's hand to his own broad chest.

"Feel this," DJ murmured, pressing Julian’s hand against the hard muscle, the coarse hair. "Smell this." He guided Julian’s hand higher, towards his neck, then gently, inevitably, towards the crook of his shoulder, where the thick hair is damp with lingering sweat

Julian is lost. All his apprehension melted away, replaced by a tidal wave of sensation. The heat radiating from DJ’s body, the gritty texture of the hair and skin, and the overpowering, intoxicating musk – it is exactly what he had secretly craved, fixated on from afar. With a shaky breath, Julian leaned in, burying his face against DJ's chest inhaling deeply. He moved hesitant hands over the hard expanse, tracing the outline of a pectoral muscle, feeling the beating of the heart beneath and looking at the cross gold pendant that smelled like sweaty metal if that's even sensible. He risked moving his face lower, towards the armpit, thick with hair and radiating heat and scent. He breathed deeply, worshipfully, lost in the raw, animal reality of it.

Julian gasped, his face flushed and eyes wide with fear as suddenly he's lifted from the corner next to that pile of dirty laundry to the table that soon cleared out from any other items, the perfect sacrificial table

DJ smiled with a sinister grin, amused, as Julian flinched,

"See, Jules, I've been thinking. This body... it's something else, isn't it?" He flexed experimentally, muscles rippling under the skin. "Makes me feel things... want things... that scrawny little Terrence never could."

He leaned in, his voice a low growl. "Things like this..."

Suddenly, DJ spun Julian around and shoved him face-down on the table. Julian yelped, flailing, but a heavy hand between his shoulder blades pinned him easily. He feels this large, muscular thigh push between his own, spreading his legs. Hot breath ghosted over the back of his neck.

"Like this," DJ repeated, his voice a rough purr. "Like pinning down a scrawny little twink and making him my bitch."

Julian whimpered in surprise, his hips bucking involuntarily as a large, calloused hand pried at his ass. The reality of it crashed over him like a wave. This is happening. He is at DJ's mercy, DJ's mercy with Terrence in control, and it is... it is more arousing than he'd ever admit.

DJ chuckled darkly at Julian's pathetic resistance. His hands are all over Julian's body now, groping and teasing, uncaring of Julian's little mewls and gasps.

"Keep struggling, Jules. Feels so good when they fight."

He pressed his chest flush against Julian's back, crushing him into the table. Julian felt a thick, hard bulge grinding against his ass and nearly came on the spot. The musk is everywhere, flooding his senses, stoking the fire in his gut.

DJ mouthed at the back of Julian's neck, nipping and sucking, leaving dark marks in his wake. His hands shoved under Julian's shirt, mapping every inch of skin, pinching his nipples hard enough to hurt. Julian writhed, lost to it, a needy moan slipping past his lips.

The hand between his shoulder blades slid down to cover his mouth, muffling any further sounds.

"Yeah, just like that," DJ growled in his ear. "Gonna fuck you so hard you forget your own name, little man. Gonna make this tight ass mine."

He punctuated the words with a sharp thrust of his hips, grinding his bulge against Julian's crack. Julian's vision goes white, his own neglected cock throbbing where it is trapped under his body. He is delirious with it, drunk on the raw power and musk and heat of DJ's body pressed all over him.

DJ ripped down Julian's pants with one swift motion, baring his ass to the air. A spit-slick finger probed at his entrance, making Julian clench and whimper. He'd never been taken like this, so roughly, so... dominantly. It is humiliating, degrading, and so fucking hot.

The finger pushed inside, stretching him open. Julian bucked back against the intrusion, needing more, needing everything. DJ worked him open with quick, rough thrusts of his fingers, twisting and scissoring, no care for Julian's comfort.

He nipped and growled filthy promises all over Julian's neck and shoulders.

"Gonna wreck this ass... ruin you for anyone else... make you crave my cock like a bitch in heat..." The words dissolved into dark chuckles that vibrated through Julian's body.

Julian panted desperately into DJ's palm, his cock leaking a steady stream of pre-cum onto the floor. He is babbling now, garbled moans and pleas falling from his lips. He needed it, needed DJ to fuck him into oblivion, to make him submit to that glorious body, to lose himself in the raw animal heat of it.

The fingers left him empty for a devastating second before something much larger pressed at his entrance. Julian keened, high and desperate, as the thick head of DJ's cock popped past his rim.

DJ groaned, long and low, as he sank into Julian's body in one brutal thrust. Julian screamed, muffling it against the hand over his mouth. It burned, so big, so deep, splitting him open, reshaping him from the inside out as his back arched like he's one of DJ's bitches from last night

DJ doesn't stop until he is buried to the hilt, his heavy balls slapping against Julian's ass. He ground into Julian's prostate, making him see stars.

"Fuck, so tight," he growled. "Built for my cock, aren't you? Gonna pound this ass till you're nothing but a sloppy mess."

He draws back and snapped his hips forward, setting a brutal pace. The table shook with the force of his thrusts, the sounds of skin slapping on skin echoing obscenely in the room. Julian could only take it, overwhelmed, impaled on that massive cock, circuited by those powerful arms and chest and thighs as his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he moaned calling Terrence to stop

"I ain't stopping man, I ain't Terrence MMFFUUCCKKK"

"NGGGAAHHHHHH FFFUUUCCKKK D...DJ....PLEASE...MMMMMMHHHH.....I....I.....DJ PLEASE STOOOAAAPPPPH"

It is too much, the pressure and stretch and raw power of DJ's body combined with Terrence's dark promises. But being called DJ really caused him to be even more brutal in his thrust as the satisfaction washes over him. He's doing such a mind-bending job, he's even fully mistaken as the real DJ! Julian eventually couldn't hold it any longer as he comes with a choked sob, his untouched cock spurting weakly. His ass clenched down, milking DJ's cock, drawing him deeper.

DJ groaned into the back of Julian's neck, his thrusts going erratic. He pistoned into Julian's ass, chasing his own pleasure, using Julian's body for his own satisfaction like his best friend is merely an object

With a final, bruising snap of his hips, DJ comes deep inside Julian, flooding his guts with hot cum. Julian whimpered and shuddered through the aftershocks, pinned down and filled with DJ's release, claimed and owned in the most primal way.

DJ slumped over Julian's back, both of them panting harshly. His softening cock slipped free of Julian's abused hole, followed by a gush of cum that dribbled down his thighs.

Julian lay there, face-down and ass-up, used and dripping, aching in all the best ways. He knows he should feel humiliated, should be pushing DJ off him, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Not when he is floating in a haze of endorphins and raw, animal satisfaction.

DJ stirred, his weight lifting off Julian's back. Julian hissed at the sensation of cool air on his spit-slick skin and the feel of DJ's cum dripping down his legs. He stayed bent over the table but then slumped to DJ's bed yet remained still like a broken puppet, too boneless to move, his glasses knocked askew on his face.

A large hand landed on his ass, squeezing roughly.

"Good boy," DJ rumbled, palming Julian's abused cheek, "I knew this ass could take it. We're gonna have so much fun, you and me."

Julian shivered, equal parts dread and anticipation coiling in his gut. He knows he is in trouble, trapped with an-all powerful jock possessed by his best friend horniest impulses and thrall to his own body. But fuck, it felt good. Too good.

Both of them are so absorbed, so utterly consumed by the forbidden contact and the overwhelming scent, that neither of them heard the door open until a voice shattered the moment.

"Yo bro, couldn't find----DJ? What the actual…?"

Chase. Bleached-blonde, red-bearded, broad-shouldered, muscle jock with a perpetually cocky smirk. He simply stand still in the doorway, groceries in hand, staring at the bizarre scene: DJ, their resident wrestling god, naked and sweaty with the skinny, emo-looking kid from the arts quad, who is currently slumped on DJ's bed with floppy 3 incher and wetness that must have come from back-breaking sex.

Julian simply freeze in bed, mortified. DJ straightened up slowly, his expression unreadable. Chase dropped the bags, his smirk replaced by utter confusion and a dawning disgust.

DJ looked at Julian, trembling and exposed beside him. Then he looked at Chase, the archetypal jock, the very image of physical prowess Julian seemed drawn to. An idea, sudden and audacious, formed in Terrence’s mind. Julian didn't just need to sniff and fucked by power. He deserved to be power

"Chase," Terrence said grumbly, drawing from DJ's memory on how he would address his roommate when he's slightly pissed, his voice flat, powerful.

Chase eyed him suspiciously.

"Dude, what the fuck is going on? You know that President Stern and the entire uni board watched us like a hawk, bullying that---

"No bullying in here bro," DJ interrupted, stepping towards Chase. Julian watched, bewildered and terrified, as DJ moved with a purpose the real DJ usually reserved for the wrestling mat, "everything's mutual. He wanted to be a bitch so I treated him the same way I did Pamela or Jo or Molly or Trish, and the rest," DJ said with a casual predatory smirk as if looking for an understanding as he reached out, not roughly, but with unexpected speed and focus, grabbing Chase by the shoulder. Chase, caught off guard, stumbled back, dropping his groceries.

"What are you…?" Julian gasped, realizing the look in DJ’s eyes. It's the same intense focus Terrence had had moments before the first ritual.

"Julian," DJ said, his voice taking on a commanding tone that reverberated with the power of the body he was in. "Focus. Now. Think of Chase. His strength. His… everything you admire."

Julian, still reeling from the whole fucking and the sudden intrusion, stared at Chase’s muscular form, his thick beard, his sheer physical presence. He's the platonic ideal of the jock, just like DJ. Better, even, in some ways. As his focus intensified, he felt the familiar pull, the deep-seated yearning for that kind of physical reality.

DJ placed a hand on Chase's forehead, his eyes locking onto Julian's. He began to chant, the words he read in the next page to the one he and Julian read for this whole takeover of DJ. It's a simpler, more direct command. A transfer.

Chase’s eyes widened in alarm, unable to break free and his body seized and mouth agape as something shifted in him. As his eyesight goes blank, his body goes rigid for a couple second and then slumped slightly. At the same moment, Julian can feel that familiar tug, that violent yank on his consciousness, the last thing he witnessed before darkness engulfed him is his own skinny body on the bed with eyes wide, before everything shifted to reveal that he is inside Chase now, he is Chase.

His gasps sounded different. Deeper. More resonant. He looked down at his hands. They are massive, covered in a light scattering of red hair. The arms looked pumped, as if he's constantly working on it and pumping it with blood and concoction of serums to grow it. A simple flex stirred the hunger in him as he looked at his massive biceps swell while his other hand busily roaming across the carved landscape of his new possession. He feels the weight of his own limbs during the exploration, the solidity of his core should have surprised him but then he is Chase Axlerod, he is jacked and self-obsessed so this is how things should be. He runs his hand over his face, feeling the rough texture of the thick beard. In front of him, he watched as his old body collapsed to the bed with his eyes vacant white while he turned and face his sweaty, reeked roommate

They stand there for a long moment, two minds that knows each other intimately, now encased in bodies they had only admired and feared from afar with even more knowledge they can use for their satisfaction. The air is thick once more with the remnants of the sex DJ just did with Julian's body and the ritual, and a sudden, explosive charge of possibility. Chase's body feels powerful, grounded, different from DJ's raw, animalistic strength, but equally potent.

With a devilish smirk, Chase pawed at his 5 incher roid-affected pecker in his shortd

"Bro, so as I said, couldn't find that Trojan you asked me so I guess we're going in raw tonight bro. How about I cleaned you up first from all this seedy sloppiness before we get out from here for some beers and pussy? You reeked,"

"Oh, what an interesting offer bro. I can definitely use some warm shower and a thick, gooey liquid lathered across my body," DJ replied with a knowing smirk, his semi now grows hard once more while his balls readying themselves to produce more of the little DJ's to swarm Chase's tight straight boy pussy

---

Finally, an original. Well, I cheated. I used AI for the original draft after outlining the prompt. But then, I reworked the latter part of the story, add some finer details, added a lot more conversation, so here it is. Hope yall bust your nut to this piece

[onelittlespiral]

FML: Stud

Please, somebody has got to help me. I can’t keep on like this. This isn’t me, this isn’t what I want. I don’t want to just keep fucking guys like this. I’m so tired, I need a break at least.

It all happened so quickly. On moment, I was out at a club, partying with my bros, hitting on some girls. I was on the top of the world. Then, I felt a prick on my neck. I woke up here in nothing but these tight shorts. I couldn’t think straight as they started bringing these men in…

Oh no, they’re bringing another one in. I can’t…

Hey, sir. Please, I don’t think I can do another today! Please, stop th…

God damn it. Alright, focus. Focus. Don’t think about him. Don’t think about his body. I can do this. 3…2…1…turn:

Hey man, listen, any chance we can reschedule all this? Uhuh, yeah. Yeah, I know you paid good money for this. I’m just… just…

Focus.

Yeah, I’m just a bit worn out. God he’s not making this easy. At least he is kinda cute in a small way… NO. Focus. Yeah, I just want to make sure…uhhh… yeah make sure I’m ready. I don’t want to accidentally hurt your small body… small… why are you so small br…bro?

No no no- Yeah bro, you’re just… so thin. Hardly any muscle on you. Yeah, you like all this? Stop flexing, stop flexing. Stop… resist… stop… stop… resisting… I need. I need him big. I need to plant my seed. I need to grow my bro. Bruh, dude come here. Fuck yeah, you’re just ready to grow bro? Let’s get my cock pumping you up.

A stud’s job is to fuck and make more studs.

A stud’s job is to fill men with muscle.

A stud’s job is to plant his seed and grow a stable of stud bros.

[onelittlespiral]

A Gift That Keeps Giving

(Original story posted April 29th 2023) This story has been mildly Updated!

Oh this part never gets old. Watching a man grunt and groan while his body starts to change. In this case getting to watch as his muscles bulge and balloon while the fat just melts away. Seeing his arms grow into powerful cannons while his pecs go from being non-existent to thick slabs of meat. All while he moaned “Yes! Yes! It’s actually happening!” As was the reaction of most clients.

He continued to bounce on my dick with glee. Inside him, my shaft continued to glow bright with the power I’d been blessed with just as it always did. His body just wouldn’t stop growing, pinning me down under more and more muscle mass by the second. Legs bulking up, ass swelling, hands and feet increasing a few sizes. Pretty much everything about him swelling larger, as was his desire. Growing heavier with pure size and muscle upon every bounce while effortlessly taking every inch of my cock.

When his body finally stopped growing, I watched the transformation shift in a hairier direction. He’d only had a few hairs here and there previously but now his body was sprouting pelt of manly fur all over! Hairy arms! Hairy legs! But most noticeably he soon sported a thick coating of chest hair. Exactly the kind of hairy chest he’d wished for. At which point I couldn’t help reaching up and rubbing my own hands through it. Admiring both the hair and my client’s new muscle tits at the same time. He didn’t seem to mind however as he tossed his head back in glee, groaning about how he could feel his beard growing in at last. Something I also had a front row seat for.

The last of his changes settled in as I watched his dick grow slightly longer and fatter with every bounce while his balls inflated slightly. Now all there was left to do was lock it in. I was about to begin thrusting upwards but before I had a chance he began to double down on riding me. Slamming his ass down onto my dick with twice the enthusiasm along with his new strength. Even going as far as to hold my arms down while begging me to cum with that gravely new voice of his. Well luckily for him I don’t think I could’ve lasted much longer anyway with how much my dick was pulsing inside of him.

Before either of us knew it, I was filling his hole with my load. And not a split second later he let out one final groan of ecstasy before his own enlarged cock shot ropes of his thick creamy cum all over my chest and stomach while a dumb grin formed across that hot bearded face of his. Unloading perfectly in sync with me just like they always did.

A couple minutes passed with the two of us panting in a sweaty mess before he finally pushed his heavy new body off me, my dick finally dislodging from his hole. The very first thing he did was run to the large mirror across my bedroom in excitement, his face lighting up the moment he set eyes on his new reflection. I couldn’t help but smile seeing another satisfied customer eagerly running his hands across every inch of his body. Touching and groping it all like he was exploring it for the first time. That was the main reason I kept a full body mirror in this room honestly.

“How much do I owe you again? £500?” He asked once he was finally able to pull himself away from the mirror. I confirmed his assumption. My charge was £1000 per transformation. Half the money up front, the other half after the session. The man picked up his jacket and dug through the pockets until he pulled out a wad of 20’s and handed it to me. I counted through it all to confirm everything was there before giving him the thumbs up to get dressed and go on his merry way.

I couldn’t help but chuckle a little as he struggled to pull on his clothes. He’d even brought some brand new, bigger clothes with him in preparation but even they were a tad too small. The larger pair of joggers he bought barely fit and let me just say they left nothing to the imagination. Hugging his ass and thighs like they could rip apart at any second. God I’m good at this. I should start charging more.

It almost seemed as though he’d heard my thoughts as he turned to me and handed over an extra £100 as a tip for giving him exactly what he wanted down to the tiniest details. “This body is everything I ever dreamed! Huge, strong and so much hair. Even the scent is perfect!” He admitted while lifting up one of his arms to reveal a hairy pit, clearly enjoying the faint masculine aroma it was giving off, while thanking me again.

We talked some more for a while. Discussing my powers a little and what he was going to do now with this new and improved look. He even asked if I wanted to hang out in a bit more of a romantic setting sometime. He seemed like a nice enough guy and his dream body just so happened to be exactly my type… so I agreed. He was quick to give me a big bear hug after that. Wrapping those new hairy muscles of his around me for a long moment before letting me go. He jumped up from the bed seconds after and began on an extremely tight t-shirt. The adorable hunk gave me one last kiss on the cheek after confirming I still had his number before walking out of my apartment with a grin on his face. Well. More like waddling with how tight those clothes were.

My dick truly was a gift. Anyone I fucked would transform into the most ideal version of themselves they desired most. I figured that out pretty soon after my first time having penetrative sex with a guy in college. Ended up turning him into a hulking jock. So it’s pretty simple when you think about it. If I fucked a dude who wished he could be a lean and hairless super model, he’d become just that. If I fucked a dude who wished he was big muscle bear, he’d pack on all the fat and muscle he needed to be such. So on so forth.

Of course I quickly realised I could make a business out of it so I started charging money as word spread about me. Of course I’d considered charging more than 1K many times before now. After all this was a life changing service that only I could offer. Realistically I could probably charge a hundred times the amount. But to be honest I also just liked doing it for the sake of helping people achieve their dreams. And help people I have. Tons of them! Hell I’ve even had a few straight guys take my dick up their ass just for a chance to have their perfect bodies. Can’t say I didn’t enjoy hearing them squirm and grunt. At least they're secure enough in their sexuality for it though. Credit where credit’s due.

I reached a hand down and cradled my cock slightly. I still have no idea what granted me this kind of power but whatever the case I plan on using it to change the lives of so many more men out there for the better. In the meantime however, I can’t wait to start setting up date plans with hopefully my soon to be boyfriend.

[onelittlespiral]

Shit I can’t stop thinking about that guy at the gym. So not my type. Looked like such a dumb gym… bro…

Ugh. Fuck. Why does just thinking that word turn me on. It’s sick. Guys like that are such douchebags. But the way he said it to me… swaggered by me… sweaty and thick… looked me in the eyes so directly, called me a… bro…

Mmm yeahhh. Fuuuck. Why am I so turned on. Gotta cool off. Sure, his body was hot. Fine. I admit it. Thick shoulders. Thick pecs. Mmmmm. Bet he has a sic tight abs too. And those biceps. I could never get arms like that. Aww man. What I wouldn’t give…. But no… that’s not me. What’s gotten into me. Im not into that right? I’m nothing like a swaggering, cocky, hot… bro…

Mmmmm man. If only. I mean, I have my priorities but wouldn’t hurt if I put in some more muscle. Lift heavier. Like, I got a good pump going today. Damn like I feel bigger. Everywhere. Nothing like that guy. No… that fucking hot stud with that dumb smirk. Can’t believe that guy noticed me. I mean I’m startin to bulk up and all, making some good gains… but for him to call me out… call me a bro…

Uhhhhhh fuuuck yeah. Like why shouldn’t he? I’m looking good. Feeling good. Got such a good pump and shit this water feels good. And like I swear I’m bigger today. Gym’s really paying off. Mmmm yeah. I gotta down that hot stud from before and show him what I gots Can’t stop thinkin about muscle. Huhu I’m such a gym bro.

[onelittlespiral]

Frat Founding

Wanting a simple group on campus for Indian students on campus, Kiran goes to Chad who has other plans for the academic and university at large. In short order Kiran becomes the first link in that chain and soon neither he nor his friends will be able to resist the allure of horny, dumb Greek Life

The corruption of Kiran into a Desi frat bro he would hate to be! Found too many refs so I tossed on some briefer TFs of his friends at the end. Hope you enjoy! -Occam

He was treating it like meeting an advisor, or a professor. Countless times over the last few years Kiran had gone out of his way to ask for advice on personal projects or visited office hours just to gain further insights. The CS Honors student was always looking for ways to get ahead academically.

Never has one of these meetings involved a person quite like Chad Becker however. The President of the University’s Greek Council was only known to Kiran by reputation. Kiran’s never been much of a people person, part of this whole proposal to the frat president. He wants to make a space for other Indian and South East Asians on campus to have something of a Spirit Org on campus, and given the funding provided by the council to fledgling orgs, he figured it was at least worth a shot.

Worst Chad can say was no, right?

Kiran feels the weight of Chad's stare as he awaits an answer after his opening spiel. There are a few beats before the president speaks up, giving Kiran more than enough time to go over a good number of scenarios where he’s promptly laughed out of the room. Instead though, the intimidating ideal of a frat bro smiles and responds. 

Despite the performatively laid back tone, it’s clear that there are cold calculations behind the man’s words, “For sure lil bro. Trust, there’s no one who wants to see Greek Life be more, hm, multicultural yeah? I absolutely hear you.” Listening intently, Kiran struggles to find any sincerity in the Cali bro’s tone as he waits for the ‘but’ that must be incoming.

It doesn’t. Still staring at him with eyes as sharp as a shark’s despite their icy blue irises, Chad continues, “I’m sure you know frat life gets a bad rap regarding biases and having a group like yours on campus would help everyone see that there’s a place for them in Greek Life. So Kiran, bro, correct me if I’m wrong, but you’d be president of the frat starting out yeah?”

Chad is clearly sizing him up as he says this, like a prize steer to go to show or a weed to be pulled so something superior may be planted. Kiran doesn’t notice as he bristles at realizing there’s been a misunderstanding, “Oh! Sorry Mr. Becker, I think- I, sorry- I wasn’t really thinking about a frat so much as uhm? In my mind I was imagining something more along the lines of a support organization for-”

He’s cut off without a word as Chad sucks on his teeth. Kiran swears he feels the temperature drop in the room, nerves. It’s just nerves. Forcing himself with all he’s got to look at the man sitting opposite him, somehow above him, Kiran almost shivers as he sees him only stare more intently, almost glaring. His perfect wide smile only gleams brighter as he continues to look into and through the meeker student like a predator. 

For a moment his surfer-vocal fry fades away, “I see I see, so you want to use our funds for your little hackathons and holi formals but keep us at arms length yeah?” His eyes narrow and his lips twitch slightly, but then he takes a deep breath and resets. That cold tone moving like the ebb of the tide as he reminds Kiran who holds the power here, “Let’s start over. Would you like a drink Kiran?” 

Seeing Chad wander over to a minifridge hiding in the corner and grab a beer, Kiran prepares to turn the offer down. But then the president stands over him, one meaty hand on his shoulder while the other offers him an opened bottle dripping with condensation, “Please, Kiran. I insist.” 

Before he even has an inclination to respond, the bottle already rests in his shaky hand. Only then does he notice the creeping thirst. Suddenly, his mouth and throat are so dry he wonders if he’d even be able to even speak. 

Chad’s smile is too emotionless to be read as cruel and calculating, though there’s sure to be no affection in his words as he seeks to compel Kiran, “Go on, Prez to be, take a sip.”

He’s never been much of a drinker, let alone a beer guy. But as he’s commanded, like a dutiful soldier he has no choice but to obey. As soon as the first sip graces his tongue, the bookish student’s senses are dulled.

In the back of his mind he hears the echo of a memory he doesn’t remember living. Voices shout, ‘Chug, chug, chug!’ Kiran’s eyes go blank as he can’t help but obey. Each heaving gulp is deeper and more labored than the one that comes before. Kiran’s vision swims slightly as he watches Chad’s unreadable expression tinge with contentment.

Patting his guest on the back and laughing, Chad makes his way over to grab a couple more beers, “Hah! Easy now bro, this is a meeting now after all! Didn’t think you were that much of a party animal Kiran.” Popping open two more bottles, he sets one in front of Kiran and watches as the smaller man slowly shakes his head.

He isn’t a party animal, he detests crowds and drunken fraternity bros. Opening his mouth to deny Chad’s asinine assessment, his stomach grumbles. One of his hands goes to put pressure on it and physically  feels it rumble. Still woozy from one drink, the lightweight suddenly begins to feel bloated.

Mouth still agog, his hand quickly flies to his face as he struggles to stop himself from burping. Clamping his lips shut just in time, each second pushing down the urge, each second refusing to let loose, it only grows more intense. He feels pressure rising in his stomach as his jaw burns from the effort of staying decent. 

Beyond simple pressure, Kiran realizes that it’s not just internal, he feels his thin stomach pushing into his hand. In between clutching fingers begins to grow a layer of fat he simply would never eat enough to maintain. This distracts him enough for everything to give. Eyes watering, Kiran turns to look at the Frat president, as soon as he sees the smug look on Chad’s once guarded face, he loses control.

Buurrp- It lasts more than a few seconds. The soothing relief of giving in is firmly repressed by the embarrassment that fills his chest. Deep enough that Kiran can scarcely notice though, some part of him thinks it’s funny. Nothing wrong with burping bro, chill out- And while the thought is buried for now, it only continues to grow. 

“Nice one brah!” Chad reaches out his drink to cheers with the new beer bottle in front of Kiran, lacking willpower to do anything but obey, so he does. Cold bottle in his hand once more he can’t ignore how right it feels in his hand. Clink- Seeing Chad take a swig he once more mimics his, er the president.

Still bloated, Kiran notices another strange sensation begin to rise. Just below where he clutched his stomach earlier, an itch begins to rise. With a frown, his free hand goes to do what one does and scratch it, clumsily continuing to drink his free beer as he does so.

Each pass of his fingers only makes it worse, spreads the burning itch further. Figuring he’s already embarrassed himself enough in front of Chad, he shoves his hand under his shirt. Gasping in shock, he realizes that his lower stomach is covered in a treasure trail growing wider by the second. 

Feeling the strands pushing out into his sweaty fingers he can’t help but steal a look. Waiting for Chad to inspect papers in front of him Kiran quickly yanks up his shirt and bites his tongue to prevent from gasping again as he sees, on top of clearly having more weight, that his stomach that has always been gratefully hairless has been overrun with body hair. 

Too dense and thick to even be dubbed a treasure trail, Kiran struggles to remember how he let it get this bad. Eyes drifting lower, Kiran finds another new problem. Slightly peeking out above his waistband and creating a definite bulge above his cock, his pubes have grown even more rampant than his belly hair. Seeing this and taking another swig of his beer, Kiran burps once more before doing the unimaginable.

He shoves his hands in his pants and scratches at his pubes. Almost moaning from delight he bites his lip as his fingers are immediately tangled in the thick new jungle. Creaking under his squirming form, reminding him that he has somehow put on more than a few pounds, Kiran absolutely forgets where he is as his hand drifts lower to cup his balls. His less-than-graceful fingers find them unmistakably heavier than they’ve ever been, almost filling his small hand. 

Never truly distracted, at this point Chad sees fit it’s time to break Kiran from his reverie, lest he go too far too fast. Clearing his throat he calls Kiran back to his right mind, more or less. The slightly heftier student’s hand tears from his pants and forcefully bumps into the underside of Chad’s desk, producing a deep grunt of pain. 

Now realizing that he was cupping his balls during the most important meeting of the semester, Kiran tries to hide that from the man who sees right through him. Though, without him being aware of it the very same hand races to his nose wherein he takes a deep sniff of the ball sweat soaked fingers. Watching his eyes roll back from the odor, Chad has to stop from bursting out laughing.

Going on something of a victory lap, Chad sees fit to taunt the changing man, “Yo bro, you just adjust your dick didja?” Hand still under his nose, Kiran stammers quickly denying the idea, there’s no way he did that? He’d not do so in private, how could he? And yet, even as he forces his hand back to his papers, the whiff of his sweaty dick remains, “No! Of course not- I mean-”

Smirking, Chad interrupts, “No, no, don’t worry ‘bout it bro. Guys like us don’t gotta worry about stuff like that. You get an itch, it’s the most human thing in the world to scratch it.” Kiran slowly shakes his head, guys like us. He’s not like Chad, he’ll never be like Chad

Seeing the man meagrely fighting back Chad stuffs his hand down his pants and performatively scratches an itch that wasn’t even there, dropping a stray pube on the table. The whole time, Kiran’s eyes never left the man’s hands, staring at the bulge in his pants shifting to the single curly strand that now sits between them. Ready to move on and content that the man’s changes are accelerating, Chad directs his attention back to himself.

“Got something on your cheek there bruh?” There’s the sound of Kiran sucking spit back into his mouth, not even aware that he had apparently been drooling. Quickly taking another swig, emptying his second beer, Kiran’s free hand flies to his face. Still slightly sticky from sweat, his fingers find something so shocking that he almost spits up the amber beer still in his mouth. 

Swallowing the beer and tossing the bottle onto the table he scratches at his face fervently, beyond shocked that without his notice his paltry stubble has exploded to cover his face. No it’s not even stubble, as his suddenly less than pristine fingernails trail across his once hairless cheeks, peach fuzz thickens and spreads further across his face.

In no time at all a mustache pushes out of his upper lip and his jawline is coated with a thick beard. His mind tries to tell him this is normal, he’s got a hairy stomach and bushy pubes, surely he’s had this beard forever. Feeling bloated once more, his shirt begins to strain his chest as two meaty pecs begin to rise above his meatier stomach. 

Focus returns to his eyes, he knows something is horribly wrong. Thicker brows furrowing at Chad he grunts out, finding his voice crackling deeper and slightly tinged with the vocal fry that infects every word out of Chad’s mouth, “What are you grh- doing to me you- urgh Asshole!” The president feigns concern and tilts his head ignoring the question that may well be Kiran’s last show of strength. Chad then simply pushes his half drunk beer closer to Kiran.

Eyes flickering between the man returning to the minifridge and the stale bottle set before him like bait, Kiran’s willpower begins to wane once more. Before the frat bro even makes it across the room, the sound of Kiran’s shirt straining against his heavier arms as he reaches for the drink fills the air. Chad grabs three more and returns to the desk.

When the mousy student entered the room Chad wondered if he’d even be able to sustain the transformation. Sitting here now, watching him drink that backwash laden swill without question, seeing nipples poking through the shirt beginning to tear, it’s clear that no dweeb out there will be able to resist his siren call. Kiran burps loudly, stopping just short of guffawing he tugs at his increasingly uncomfortable shirt. 

Time to finish the dance, “So, Kiran, you were saying you wanted an Indian frat on campus right?” The top button bursts off his button up as he dumbly produces a plodding, “uuuuhhh?” His mind alights with his shifting memories. The fluorescent lights from studying overnight in a library suddenly strobing, changing colors as bookshelves press inward and deep base begins to pump from speakers pushing out from behind tables now littered with red solo cups and spilled cans. 

Automatically drinking from the new bottle sat in front of him, Kiran sloppily wipes the beer spilling onto his beard with his hairier arm. Struggling a bit as his muscular biceps now compete with his heavy pecs for space. His vision swims, rapidly switching between the blowout party and the meeting with Chad. Competing with blaring speakers and crowd uproar that only he can hear, Kiran shouts in his new bullish voice, “Well uhhh, bro kinda just wanted a place for guys like me to hang y’know? Place for all the lil Desi guys on campus yuh?”

“Shirt’s lookin a little tight there bruh, you sure you’re just a ‘lil guy’ anymore?” Turning to take in his thick form, Kiran certainly can’t disagree. Chest hair encroaching on his neck, thighs thicker than his waist used to be. The chair creaks once more, threatening to totally give way under the still growing man. Yeah he’s no twerp, him and his bros are always at the gym.

In fact, Kiran doesn’t remember the last time he was even in a lecture. Attending office hours is absolutely out of the questions, the only interactions he’s had with professors and T.A’s were arm wringing for class credit. Clear as day he remembers meeting with a dude he would’ve sworn he was close with for intro to python, but as he plays it through he remembers burping in the man’s face and throwing a sweaty, heavy arm around him. 

God that nerd was so uncomfortable. His expression turns to a sneer as he sits in front of Chad, and the president knows his work is just about done. Kiran paws at his crotch as he recalls dominating that man, some weak academic who thought himself a superior. Biting his lip, his bulge makes itself more than clear in his tight dress pants as the fabric rapidly e into the same sweats he wears every day, stained as they may be. 

When pre suddenly begins to leave a stain that makes it clear the Desi frat bro is free balling, Chad knows Kiran is far past the point of no return. “Bro, do you ever not think with your cock?” Tearing off whatever remains of his shirt and fondling his bulky pecs Kiran shrugs, “Dunno bro, you ever think about somethin’ other than my cock either?” There’s a charge in the air as the two men stare at each other with something dark in their expressions before both break out into uproarious laughter.

Then, addressing it like it’s something they had discussed a number of times, Kiran takes the floor, “So, big bro, council good if I start recruiting for my new chapter?” Chad raises his glass and takes a long swig, with a content sigh he acquiesces, “Course brobro, we know you more than got what it takes. Been wanting to diversify frat row’s portfolio for a while, you know that.”

Scratching his exposed stomach as he stands, his fingers treading dangerously close to inching under his waistband once more, Kiran nods without a thought, “Yuhhhh!” Finishing another drink he belches yet again and finally there is no shred of decency left to fight back “Burrrrp, Huhuh!” Tossing the bottle onto the ground apathetic whether it breaks or not, the newly dubbed frat president stretches.

Flexing to himself as he stands there, feeling the strength and weight of his new form, Kiran feels his blood rush to his thicker cock as he realizes what a specimen he is. Chad similarly imagines how easy it’ll be for him to finally take over the rest of the school. No one’ll be shit talking Greek life anymore once men like Kiran are bumbling across campus. No need for little brownnosing losers in lectures when everyone finally remembers what it’s all about. 

Eager to get a move on, and sure that if Kiran stays any longer both will have to write off the day for obvious reasons, he prods the man, “You were saying you were gonna go play your old friends a visit right? Go get your first members?” Kiran nods, that darker look returning and temporarily displacing his lust for himself and Chad. Rolling his shoulders he imagines his study group, doesn’t even remember how he knows them or why.

Grabbing a beer for the road, he nods at Chad and heads out the door. The incongruence at those dweebs even knowing his name begins to prickle at his mind, he needs to fix it. His frat must grow and so must they. Losers have spent too long playing MtG and Dota 2, he’s gotta remind them what men should be. That drinking, fucking, and partying are more important than their shitty assignments. 

Wandering around campus he flexes his bicep and delights in his heady musk. Soon every beta male around will be just like him, just as Chad planned. He can’t wait until Chad runs this school. Approaching his old apartment he hears a few shrill men arguing about some lines of code inside. Cracking his neck and pawing at the growing bulge in his sweats, he’s never been more excited for anything. Time for the first inductions into the school’s newest fraternity.

In no time at all, his four best friends are all converted into perfect specimens for Kiran’s frat. Forewarned by his musk creeping in as he stands at the door, as soon as he barges in all four are instantly overwhelmed by his muscular, masculine visage. Under his touch their thin forms bulge. On the couch, Amir’s body immediately thickens into one that never shies away from his keg stand. His nose twitches as a powerful mustache pushes out of his upper lip as he becomes Kiran’s right hand.

Boyfriends Dev and Mo follow shortly after, their suddenly sculpted muscles bulging larger as if they were in competition with each other. Mo’s back cracks as he finally stands taller than his boyfriend, his potable goatee thickening into a beard that would put a lumberjack to shame. Dev’s twinkish face reshapes into something more masculine and handsome despite remaining smooth. While Kiran continues his work, focusing on the other two, the boyfriend’s waste no time rushing to their suddenly messier room.

Finally, quite Ajit who had been doing his best to not give in breaks. Hands that had been gripping the edge of the table trying to avoid the gaze of the man who cannot be Kiran, white knuckles cramp and burst larger as forearms and biceps surge larger in quick succession. His racing anxious breaths allow his chest to rapidly expand. Pecs quickly tatter his shirt as criss crossing veins decorate arms thicker than his legs once were. 

Under the table his legs push larger and his bulge demands his attention. Lips suddenly surrounded by a thick beard, biting his lip he quickly snaps a picture of himself before following in the path of his five best friends as his hands quickly find his newly massive cock. The air of their apartment swiftly smells more of sex than one can imagine. Each man a perfect test case for Chad’s grand plans, perfect frat bros whose dicks will lead their frat to expand. Kiran and Amir hosting parties that no Desi man could resist, no one’s eyes will be able to avoid Dev and Mo as they’re all over each other at the gym, and Ajit’s new online presence and perfect form will send tendrils of change well beyond their university. One unreached community handled, Chad continues his grand plan of ensuring that Greek Life is the only group left standing.

[onelittlespiral]

i would love to become a football jock.. all muscular, horny, dumb, alpha.. the brotherhood of jocks and bros

I love cleats .. I wish I could just try some on...

I slipped into the locker room like I didn’t belong, because I didn’t. My sneakers squeaked on tile still damp with sweat and something thicker. The air was heavy, suffocating, soaked in days of unwashed socks, jockstraps, and testosterone. My cock twitched before I even saw them.

The cleats were by the bench. Still warm. Still wet. Black, beaten, with a yellowed sole that looked chewed by use. I knelt and picked one up, hands shaking. Brought it close.

The smell hit me like a punch. Thick. Cheesy. Hot. The kind of stink that clung to the back of your tongue and stayed. I gasped, instantly hard. My eyes rolled back as I pressed my face in deeper, nose grinding into the crusted insole. The sweat was alive, sharp and tangy like it had fermented. I moaned, shame burning as I huffed deeper.

Then… footsteps.

I froze.

He stepped into view. Towering. Shirtless. His torso was slick with sweat, veins crawling across thick arms. I tried to move. I tried to stop sniffing. But I couldn’t. My body wouldn’t obey.

“Don’t stop.” His voice was low. Lazy. Cruel. “That one’s mine.”

A low whine escaped me.

“You like that smell? Course you do. Got a few... gifts in it.”

I whimpered, my cock rock-hard in my pants. He stepped closer. The heat radiating off him was suffocating. His bulge strained in soaked compression shorts. I couldn’t look away.

“Take your pants off. Now.”

I stripped. No hesitation. My knees wobbled as I stood bare, leaking. My cock throbbed in the thick locker room air.

“Put ‘em on.”

I slid the cleats onto my bare feet. The moment they touched skin, heat shot up my legs. My toes curled, heels locking into place. I gasped—muscle packed onto my calves, thighs swelling, skin slick with sudden sweat. My stance widened, body adjusting instinctively to the added weight. I felt... stronger.

“Yeah, bro,” he grinned, stepping closer, body radiating control. “Bet that’s makin’ you feel real good.”

His fingers brushed my cock.

I jerked, moaning.

He didn't stroke, just teased. Lazy, cruel touches that had my hips grinding forward, my breath ragged. I was dripping, every nerve lit up, body begging for release.

“Wanna cum, bro?”

“Y-yeah,” I gasped, eyes fluttering.

“Tough.” He taunted grazing the tip of my cock like electric pleasure.

He stepped back. My hips thrust forward desperately, chasing friction, but found only air.

“Nuh-uh. You don’t cum 'til the team says you can. You know why?”

He held up a black plastic jock cup. Greasy. Fused with old sweat, yellowed on the inside. It reeked. My knees buckled just smelling it.

“Because this is yours now. This is where your cock goes. Forever.”

He shoved it against me. It sucked my cock in, fast and wet. I screamed. The cup sealed to my groin, hissing, pulsing with heat. The walls hugged my shaft, twitching, squeezing, edging, like it was alive and it’s only purpose was to keep me on the brink of an orgasm, never enough to cum.

I wanted to reach down to tear it off. My hands wouldn’t move.

“That’s the dumbcup. You don’t take it off. You don’t touch your cock. You don’t need to. You’re a jock now.”

My back arched. My spine cracked, lengthening. Shoulders widened, chest exploded with new mass—pecs thick and heavy with sweat. My neck bulged. My brain ached.

“F-fuck… wait…”

“Too late, bro. Say goodbye.”

Thoughts spilled like water. My name, gone. Books, forgotten. My degree? What was a degree? My mind fogged over, the air inside my skull filling with gym funk, locker room chants, grunts and moans and the rhythm of my bros fucking me on repeat.

“Say it.” He taunted.

“I’m a… dumb jock,” I panted.

He grabbed my head. Forced me to look up planting a rough kiss on my lips as if to inflict one last ounce of control over the free will I had left.

“Say it right.”

“I’m a dumb, horny bro toy. My cock ain’t mine. My brain ain’t mine. I belong to the team.”

My voice was deeper. Slower. Thicker. My jaw felt stronger. My tongue… hungrier.

He unzipped. “Then prove it.”

I opened wide. His dick was soaked in sweat, thick and veiny. I took it without hesitation. The taste hit me like a drug. salty, hot, claiming. I moaned around it. He spat down into my mouth. I swallowed, instinctively.

Everything went still.

And just like that... I was a jock. Always had been. Friendly. Dumb. Muscular. Trapped. Just another cum dump for the team. Anything for my bros.

[onelittlespiral]

[onelittlespiral]

Evo Bio 101

Annoyed at the prospect of wasting time during his simple lectures, Craig's misplaced ambitions lead to a first hand lesson in (d)evolutionary biology.

Was possessed by the idea and couldn't not write it haha! Here's a story taking hair growth and brutification to the extreme ! Hope you enjoy! -Occam

It’s not that Craig didn’t want to teach the class, he was grateful to have a chance to instruct on anything even remotely close to his research area. Intro to Evolutionary Biology was directly in his wheelhouse and given how cutthroat his department was he was more than happy to jump at the chance.

It’s just- the class was so introductory it’s insulting. The course is required for all students in the university’s tiny biological anthropology program and judging by the recommended syllabus given to him by the department head, there’s not a day where Craig is going to teach his students anything they don’t already know.

Complaining under his breath as he makes his way to the classroom across campus, the doctoral candidate wonders if any of his undergraduates are even going to show up given how remedial the material seems. Kicking the air he wishes to himself that he’ll get the chance to teach them something novel. To show them what their field is all about, how man became man rather than droll lectures on Darwin’s finches and Mendel’s peas.

As soon as he utters the words to no one he shivers and his skin prickles with goosebumps before he fully stumbles over himself just outside the classroom door. There’s a quiet buzzing in the air and he looks around to find its source before noticing the time on an overhead clock and realizing he’s already late. Bumbling into the classroom he adjusts his tie and apologizes as he rushes to get his laptop set up.

“Sorry guys! Always forget these dinky 101 courses are relegated to the middle of nowhere,” there are a few quiet laughs but the lecturer is sure they’re just trying to appease him. He knows because he’s laughed at countless half-jokes from professors over the years. Craig continues to awkwardly mumble to the class as he waits for his equipment to bootup. After getting his introductory powerpoint running he wipes his brow and for the first time turns to look at his small class.

It’s then that he notices how warm it is in the room. Wiping his forehead, his stuffy sleeve wicks sweat from his brow and he assumes it’s just from nerves at standing in front of the bored faces of students who have done nothing today but go over reading lists and play icebreakers. Might as well get this over with. “Welcome all to the intro course on Evolutionary Biology! I’ll be your instructor, Craig Stoll. See a few familiar faces around here from courses I’ve TAed, you guys can just call me Craig. I assume this is no one’s first rodeo-” 

Craig opens his mouth to slyly complain about how basic the material is, to mock the university requiring people well on their way to becoming experts in the field to waste time going over the most absolute basics. But before he can speak, it’s like his throat has been zapped free of moisture. He tries to clear his throat a couple times, stretching open his mouth in between doing so as he struggles in front of his few students. 

Smiling awkwardly as his forehead sweats even heavier under the bright lights above the lectern he turns and digs through his bag for the water bottle that scarcely leaves his side. Still turned away from the class he forces it to his lips and guzzles for a few seconds straight. After a moment he pauses and breathes heavily for a few seconds, gasping for air just as hungrily as he was gulping for water, and then he gets right back to it. Lifting the bottle perpendicular to the Earth as he drinks like he’s dying of thirst.

All students present eye him apprehensively, most of them had seen him countless times over the years sitting performatively uptight as he graded assignments and aided professors as needed. Never could they imagine him doing something so uncouth. One sophomore whispers to her neighbor, Dawson, concerned at how nervous the researcher seems. He replies mocking Craig, excited to see the meek man who gave him a 79 on a final last semester crash and burn.

Letting his bottle fall away once more there isn’t a thought in his mind questioning how peculiar what just happened was. He was thirsty, and now he no longer is. Simple. Craig turns back with a wide smile at his classroom clearing his throat once more this time successfully. He doesn’t notice how his voice echoes through the lecture hall, decidedly deeper than it should be, “Ahh, that’s better! Sorry again y’all!” 

In the front row a student motions for him to wipe his face as water is clearly dripping down his ever-so-slightly shadowed jaw. Craig’s face burns red as he does so, for the first time realizing himself that he’s acting a tad strange. This is only more apparent as he feels a burp begin to rise. He did drink that water awfully fast. Before the thought even occurs to him to silence it he lets it loose, producing the loudest burp he’s ever heard. Stunning the classroom to silence.

Even the student eager to watch Craig fail was shocked enough to grimace in second hand embarrassment as he sees the man’s eyes dull while burping like an animal in front of his class before scrambling back to his senses. “Oh jeez, I don’t know what’s gotten into me today- Let’s just, uhm, get to it.”

Directing his class’ attention to the slides he squirms and adjusts his tie with sweaty palms as he realizes how uncomfortable his clothes feel all of a sudden. Struggling to get the thing loose he grunts and flexes his feet as he suddenly feels confined. Trapped in his shoes. Shaking his head to stay focused he pointedly ignores the feeling of his toes poking the front of his dress shoes and starts lecturing.

Clicking past the introduction his brow furrows as he sees the title of the first slide of substance, ‘What is Evolutionary Biology?’ Grunting once more, Craig scratches his chest as he can’t help but address what he thinks to be the elephant in the room, unaware of the eyes staring at him as his arms seem to be stretching out from their sleeves. Not noticing as his perpetually clean shaven face suddenly begins to sprout stubbly sideburns and a scratchy neckbeard.

No, suddenly the rising anger in his mind can’t help but address how stupid it is that his boss is making him explain to these people essentially majoring in evolutionary biology what those words mean. Clenching his jaw as he yanks the tie from his neck and tosses it to the floor he speaks up, his voice clearly rougher than it was even seconds ago, “This is- You all know what evolutionary biology is, obviously,” his voice cracks deeper as he tries to remove his jacket, ignoring how it gets stuck on arms that have impossibly begun to lengthen. Hanging lower and heavier as he struggles against clothes that suddenly feel like they’re holding him captive. “You all know already!”

He hammers a fist down onto his lectern and hears the sound of his shirt tearing from the back. Students flinch in shock and a few begin to gather their things as Craig stares at his arm. His hand shouldn't be that big. Isn’t that big. Seeing the few thick hairs starting to pepper his bulkier wrists, Craig turns to look down at his chest as it begins to grow, grunting ever deeper he stares as two meaty pecs begin to strain the button-up. 

Hairs poke through the straining placket as they start to spread above the neckline. Every movement sends further sounds of tearing garment through the classroom as Craig tries to understand what he’s seeing. His voice sounds even duller, brutish even as he cries out,  “What goin- What’s, grgh, happening to me-” Thicker fingers yank off his shirt sending sweat and buttons flying into the classroom, freeing pecs that were not there even a minute ago.

Many students begin to flee the classroom as their instructor begins feeling up his chest with hands growing hairier. The student who was initially concerned dials emergency services as she ditches her laptop and begins to race out the door, terrified as Craig’s thickening brows start to just out further from his forehead. The man who was waiting to watch him awkwardly stumble over his words rather than join his fleeing cohort just watches enthralled. Staring at his widening jaw as it is promptly covered with a thick beard. 

Unaware of the small horde of students in flight from his lecture as his newly fat palms cup itching pecs as they grow meatier, Craig groans and apologizes to whoever remains as he leans underneath the small podium to deal with the sharp pain in his shoes. His ass bursts free from his pants, exposing briefs barely holding up and cheeks that are rapidly being decorated by a forest of fur. His wider back bumps into the lectern as he struggles to free his thick feet from shoes that were already a tad too snug. 

Speaking accompanied by the sound of his tearing at leather shoes, Craig tries to continue the lecture in between increasingly common grunts, “So me, unh- I think you uhhh- you know this evo- uhh” The one remaining student, Dawson, begins creeping closer, deadset to see this through to the end. Slowly pulling out his phone and setting it to record what is clearly some impossible miracle of science. Some reversion towards a more primal state, a devolution. Dawson smirks as he imagines how far this will set him ahead in the field.

Craig finds himself suddenly much less preoccupied with said science as he frees his newly hairy feet from their binds, leaving sweat steaming off of their wider soles as they continue to crack larger. Instead, mind leaking intelligence, he begins to drool and quietly grunt to himself as his cock begins to throb. Buried in a bush of thick and curled pubes which are themselves haloed by massive burly thighs, his rougher hands easily claw off his briefs to free his bobbing cock. Dripping with pre he sees veins visibly pulsing as what must be a foreskin begins to encroach towards a head almost purple and pre-covered. 

Dawson sneaks onward, zooming in to capture how Craig’s beard raises higher on his face to meet with the hair on his head growing wild. His eyes flicker across strange bulging muscles on his instructor’s shoulders as they’re rapidly blanketed by a forest of curls thicker than his own pubes. The student's mouth slightly waters as he adjusts the frame to capture the man’s massive hands as he begins to masturbate in the classroom. And then he drops his phone.��

On high alert, the man-no-longer jumps with a start and hits his head on the lectern, guffawing as he rubs the spot he foolishly bumped. Falling to the floor himself, Dawson is torn between fleeing like the rest of his wiser cohort and staring at a living breathing caveman. He can’t resist simply being the first man to witness prehistory. 

Beyond that, Dawson can’t help but stare at the exposed pits of a man he assumed was as smooth as marble. He’s almost possessed, staring at the wild jungle of pit hair that flies free from the brute’s raised arm, dripping with sweat. There are almost visible stink lines as body odor that hasn’t been found on the earth for thousands of millenia begins to fill the room. And the longer he stares, the longer he smells, he begins to lose any will to do anything but submit.

Perhaps it’s simply a biological reaction that Dawson finds himself rooted to the spot, taking in heady breaths of the fetid scent. Why else would his mouth fall open as his cock starts to rise at the sight, Craig speaks up seeing his own remaining pupil sitting there in some state between primal lust and fear. Feeling his cock bob against the podium and seeing himself nude in this clinical classroom, some semblance of self returns to the once-doctoral candidate.

“Dawsugh- Need help. Cra-ug ugh- Crag need help, nowugh” His jaw stings with pain as it widens more, his lips struggling to create sounds he knows he should be able to. As he stares down on the male planted on the ground he feels those bizarre instincts begin to return once more. His skin prickles, back cracking as it compacts while his chest grows wider with every heaving breath. Putting on mass as his mind begins to grow foggy once more.

Crag struggles to stay focused, struggles to remember who he is, what he’s doing. What that strange rectangle is at this lesser man’s feet. But with every precious second his twenty-first century concerns begin to evaporate. Worries about the grind of academia, disdain at being shoehorned into reading powerpoints no one cares to hear, the monotony of driving home in rush hour traffic. Everything begins to fade. Everything that is, besides the need to dominate the hairless, beta man staring at him.

Dawson can scarcely make heads or tails of what happens next as he sees the brute pounce on him. He feels the man’s calloused hands tear at his clothes and lies in repose, waiting for whatever Crag, apparently, is to do next. Desperately wanting fulfillment no man has experienced before. His hands clutch the caveman-apparent’s back, feeling the scratch of hair thicker than man can grow and the bulging sticky muscle beneath. 

Feeling the man’s river of precum dripping down his abs, Dawson begins to feel the prickle of his treasure trail regrowing as his feverish mind realizes his future far too late. Every inch of skin touching the man begins to change likewise. Arms he was never shy of lengthen just as he saw his least favorite TA’s did minutes ago, decorated with hair and bulging larger with thick muscle. 

Even quicker than he witnessed happening to Craig er, Crag, hair begins to engulf him. The concerted efforts towards maintaining his clean-cut appearance is absolutely erased as every inch of his form prickles with thick, dark hair growth. Crag sloppily kisses him and leaves a growing beard in the wake of his tongue. Forearms that have had the lightest coat of blonde peach fuzz erupt with fark jungles of hair before launching even further, coating his increasingly clumsy fingers and biceps twitching stronger with every haphazard movement.

Dawson’s hips reflexively hump into the man dominating him. His changing cock scratches against the man’s essentially fur covered torso which only heightens the student’s rapturous delight and accelerates his transformation. In no time at all the complexities and desires of the life he lived are wiped and replaced by a need to do nothing more than seek sustenance and pleasure. To serve and be served by the Crag who begins to hoist him against a wall and hump.

His handsome face changes, bones restructuring as hands he doesn’t recognize as he clings to Crag who is more monster than man. Feeling his rising cock rubbing against his new alpha’s as it begins to change he knows he is on the fast track to join him. He feels his vocal chords thickening as he cries out in ecstasy, Crag finally claiming what is his. Longer toes burst through tennis shoes, curling on the floor as nails yellow and thicken. 

Dawson’s sharper and larger teeth bite Crag’s shoulder as they continue to frot and fuck. They continue until their sweat and ancient semen coats much of the room, their new balls having apparently quite the short refractory period. When they finally tire or get bored their snores sound loud enough to break glass as they curl up together somewhere behind the podium. Bonded mates of a world that hasn’t existed for hundreds of thousands of years.

Well before the pair were done with consummating their new forms, the whole building was placed on lockdown. Quarantine crews working hastily to contain whatever impossible pathogen has apparently begun to infect the campus. Scientists across the world wait with bated breath from some update on whatever impossible goings on are hidden behind that yellow quarantine tape. Hearing the horrified testimonies of those students that escape does little to sate their curiosities, though it does invite them to be lab rats as scientists watch each and every one of them hoping to observe their own prehistoric changes.

It’s only a matter of time before some foolhardy explorer or researcher desperate for a discovery breaks the seal and finds something they could never be prepared for. Sooner rather than later the mounting need to know will be insurmountable. Sooner rather than later whatever this plague of the past they tried to keep behind lock and key will spread. And then those foolish enough to remain nearby will get a first hand experience on the nature of evolutionary biology. And to think, Craig Stoll was so concerned that nothing of note would come of the course.

[onelittlespiral]

Managed to get the bundle from Target! About to have to start doing commissions to afford the games and accessories 🥲

Switch 2!

I managed to snag a preorder on Best Buy!!

(I have to be up for work in like 3 hours, but it's worth it!)