redpill-tfs

[redpill-tfs]

Pranked Ya, Bro

Max had always prided himself on his sharp wit, preppy style, and deep analytical mind. A freshman at Whitmore University, he spent most of his time buried in textbooks, debating politics in his dorm’s common area, and meticulously planning his future. He had ambitions—big ones. Maybe law school, maybe politics, something to make a difference in the world and improve people's lives. But on April Fool’s Day, all of that was about to change.

It happened as he was walking back to his dorm, his navy blazer and khakis neatly pressed, his brown loafers clicking against the pavement. Out of nowhere, something cold and wet smacked him in the back.

SPLASH!

He gasped, feeling the shock of icy water soak through his clothes. A burst of laughter erupted from behind him. Whipping around, he saw the culprit—a broad-shouldered, backward-hat-wearing frat boy from Beta Delta Omega, the most notoriously conservative fraternity on campus.

“Pranked ya, bro!” the guy hooted, tossing another water balloon up and down in his hand before running off to find his next victim.

Max scowled and shook his head, wringing out his wet sleeves as he tried to fight the tears forming in his eyes and the red flush in his cheeks in his embarrassment. “Idiots,” he muttered, hurrying inside his dorm. He needed to change before he caught a cold.

As soon as he shut the door, an odd sensation washed over him. His limbs trembled, heat coursing through his veins. He stumbled, gripping his desk for balance as his reflection in the mirror swam before his eyes.

“W-what’s happening?” he stammered. His voice cracked—deepened.

His arms bulged, muscles swelling beneath his skin, tearing through the tailored sleeves of his blazer. His legs thickened, his khakis warping into a pair of gym shorts as his loafers melted into battered white sneakers. His once-trim waist widened, his chest expanded, and a tight-fitting tank top emblazoned with an American flag stretched over his growing frame. A red baseball cap materialized on his head, the brim curling slightly upward as bold white letters appeared across the front: MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN.

Max groaned, gripping his head as if he could hold onto his old self, but the thoughts—the sharp, meticulous thoughts—blurred. Concepts like economic policy, climate change, and political philosophy turned to static in his mind, slipping away like sand through his fingers. New ideas replaced them—hazing pledges, chugging beers, pulling epic pranks, and making sure everyone knew who the real Americans were.

His reflection changed further—his face looking more rugged, his neatly trimmed brown hair growing messier, styled almost effortlessly. The scholarly look in his eyes faded, replaced by an easygoing, almost vacant confidence. He was a top dog, and everyone would know it and get out of his way.

His lips curled into a dumb smirk. “Aw, hell yeah, bro.”

He caught sight of his phone vibrating on his desk. Grabbing it, he found messages in the Beta Delta Omega group chat—somehow, he was already in it. But of course he was. Why would he be in the frat's chat? He'd rushed last semester and earned his way in.

BRODY: Yo, we got another one? 

CHAD: LOL welcome to the brotherhood, dude. 

BRODY: Get over here. We got more balloons to throw at nerds.

Mack flexed his newly thick arms before throwing on a pair of sunglasses. College wasn’t about studying and debating. Nah, bro. It was about living it up, making sure those geeky losers and sissy libs knew who really ruled the campus.

Mack gave the dorm a confused look? Why was he here and not back at the frat? He sure was mindless sometimes. Maybe he'd found some hot blonde chick to bang real quick and fill with his alpha seed. Anyway, he needed to get back. The frat needed all hands on deck for the epic prank goin on.

With a low chuckle, Mack turned off the lights and strolled out, his mind empty of everything but the thrill of the fun times ahead, both with his bros and the sorority chicks after practice.

[redpill-tfs]

I’m working on my New Year’s resolution to finally build muscles and get that ‘beach box’. Im disappointed in election results as I wanted Kamala. Can you slip the red pill into my drink without my knowledge at the gym so as I drink and leave, turning me from a gay ‘girly’ small lithe twink into my polar opposite and a silver fox? 🫠

You step into the gym, the cool air hitting your skin as you take in the sight of muscled men and women lifting weights, jogging on treadmills, and stretching with ease. You swallow hard, feeling like a lost child in a forest of giants. Hot giants, but giants nonetheless. Their bulging muscles straining against their shirts, abs showing when they lift too high. They're exactly you're type. Still, you force yourself to approach the weights, your scrawny arms trembling even as you try to pick up the lightest dumbbells. Your breaths come short and ragged, your palms sweaty.

Ten minutes. That's all it takes for your willpower to drain away. Shoulders slumped, you head for the exit, feeling utterly defeated. The door looms ahead of your slouched shoulders.

“Hey, wait up, bro.”

You glance over to see the gym’s manager, a friendly guy with a broad chest and a reassuring smile. “First days are tough, huh?” he says, his tone sympathetic.

“Yeah,” you admit, rubbing the back of your neck. “Maybe this was a mistake.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. Everyone starts somewhere.” He reaches behind the counter and pulls out a chilled bottle of something with a vibrant red label. “Here, try this. It’s on the house. A little boost to help you feel better.”

You nod hesitantly and take the drink, twisting off the cap as you leave.

The sunlight hits your face as you step outside, and you tilt the bottle back for a few quick sips. The taste is sweet, refreshing, with an undercurrent of something richer, more substantial. You shrug and start walking to your car, still feeling the sting of embarrassment.

But then it happens.

A heat blossoms in your chest, spreading outward like wildfire. Your muscles pulse and throb, aching and stretching. You gasp, stumbling forward, your hand gripping the side of your car to keep your balance.

The thinness of your arms fills out with solid muscle, your chest expanding as your shirt strains to contain your broadening shoulders. Your legs bulk up, thighs and calves pushing against the fabric of your pants. Veins ripple along your arms, prominent and powerful. You catch your reflection in the car window, eyes widening as your face sharpens and matures.

Grey streaks run through your hair, which thickens even as lines of experience and age etch themselves into your skin. Late fifties, you realize, your own eyes staring back at you in shock. But you don’t feel weakened or aged. You feel stronger, more grounded. Powerful, like a MAN should feel. You can feel the erection growing in your pink shorts, growing in length as you walk.

The transformation isn’t over. Your clothes begin to shift, fabric reshaping itself to suit your new physique. Your cheap t-shirt becomes a well-fitted, dark blue polo shirt, the material firm yet breathable. Your jeans morph into neatly pressed khakis, a brown leather belt snug around your waist. Even your sneakers change, turning into polished brown loafers. Perfect for your new size 13 feet, rank with the smell of sweat and the gym.

You look down at yourself, chest rising and falling with deep, steady breaths. And when you reach for the car door, it’s not the scratched-up old sedan you remember. It’s a sleek, well-maintained SUV. The keys are already in your hand, as if they’ve always been there. You throw your gym bag in the trunk (were you always carrying that?) and hop into the driver's seat.

You slide into the driver’s seat and grip the steering wheel, feeling the smooth texture beneath your fingers. You unbutton your pants and quickly pull the zipper down, eager for release from the raging hard on. As you stroke and goon yourself, your mind begins to shift, old thoughts melting away like ice under the sun. Liberal ideals and atheist musings drain from your consciousness, replaced by a calm, steady faith. Conservative values settle comfortably into your mind, feeling like principles you’ve always held dear. You remember voting Republican down the ballot since you turned 18, how proud your father was seeing you continue the tradition.

You keep edging closer and closer to release. Memories rewrite themselves with startling clarity. You recall your wife’s smile as she stood beside you on your wedding day, the warmth of her hand in yours. The warmth of her pussy as you thrust into her over and over on your wedding night. The positive pregnancy test the next day. The laughter of your three kids as they grew up, all of them now moved out and thriving in their own lives. The house you’ve lived in for years, spacious and welcoming, with the porch you like to sit on during quiet evenings. The church just down the street you've been attending since moving here just after getting married (Not to be confused with the church across the street. Those lib hippies have no idea what they're talking about and slander the word of God).

Your name isn’t what you thought it was. That old boring name feels weak and unfamiliar. It’s now Mark. Mark Sanders. And you’re not some scrawny lib snowflake kid trying to make a difference at the gym. You’re a strong, confident man who’s worked hard and built a life worth living. With the transformation complete, you finally cum. Free of your old life and it's constant worrying about other people, the planet, and fighting battles to feel good about yourself. The rush of hormones fills your body as you slump in the seat.

As you pull out of the parking lot, your pants zipped back up and somehow completely dry, your mind drifts to your plans for the evening. Your wife mentioned trying a new recipe for dinner. Maybe you’ll surprise her with flowers on the way home. Maybe you can convince her to have a little fun in the bedroom. You may not be young anymore but your stamina has held out!

Whatever you decide, it’s your life. And it feels right.

[redpill-tfs]

I was watching YouTube when suddenly a RedWaveRapture video plays in my queue.

It talks about becoming a real man's man - much older, hairier, more muscular, conservative, Christian, right-wing, masculine, virile, toxic, and in charge. The video shows starts showing sporty, homophobic, suburban dilf breeders. There is a link in the description to buy the redpill.

I can feel myself getting redpilled and turning into one of them - my body and mind transforming, my sexuality becoming corrupted. I'm becoming a Republican, domineering, closeted, "straight" on-the-DL daddy who uses faggots to take out his sexual frustration and to practice his insemination/breeding/impregnation techniques.

You sit slouched in your chair, eyes fixed on the glow of your computer screen. The hours have slipped away unnoticed as you scroll through video after video, hopping between debates, philosophy lectures, and political commentary. It seems like every day there are more videos of the BS Trump and his cronies are doing. You take another sip of your energy drink, adjusting your glasses as you click on the next recommended video.

But before you can react, a new video starts playing on its own.

The screen flickers, pulsing with deep reds and blues, and a low, steady hum fills your headphones. You instinctively reach for your mouse to close it, but your hand pauses midair. The sound—calming yet commanding—settles deep into your mind, washing over your thoughts like a warm wave. Your fingers go slack. Your breathing slows.

Images emerge from the swirling colors. Muscular, broad-shouldered men stand tall in crisp suits and athletic uniforms. They move with purpose, standing in churches, on football fields, in front of waving flags. Their chiseled features radiate confidence, their voices deep and firm, layered over one another in an irresistible chant:

STRENGTH. FAMILY. FAITH. DUTY.

Your pupils dilate. Your mouth hangs slightly open. You're getting hard and horny. You don’t notice the subtle changes beginning in your body. Your narrow shoulders start to widen, muscle fibers thickening beneath your skin. Your arms, once lanky and soft, swell with strength, biceps bulging as if they’ve been sculpted through years of hard work. Your chest tightens, expanding outward, your frail frame filling with mass and power.

You sit up straighter, no longer needing to hunch forward. The glasses perched on your nose slip down, their function unnecessary as your vision sharpens. The swirling images hold your gaze as the video’s tempo intensifies, the deep voices layering into a chorus of authority.

A man provides. A man protects. A man follows the path of righteousness.

A fog rolls through your mind, smoothing out the complicated, intellectual thoughts that once cluttered it. Those long-winded debates, the abstract arguments—they seem so distant now, so… pointless. In their place, simpler, clearer truths take root. You're on the top of the food chain. Those queers and women were made to serve your every need. Have your babies, do the household chores, let you get out your sexual frustrations. You're a breeder, you need to act like one!

God. Family. Country.

You smirk, your strong jawline now reflecting the men on the screen. A gold chain with a cross dangles against your solid chest. The worn-out hoodie you were wearing is gone, replaced with a snug-fitting polo that highlights your broad physique. You roll your thick neck, stretching out. You finally cum as the video comes to an end.

You blink. The screen is dark.

A slow breath escapes your lips as you push back from the desk. What are you doing wasting time on the computer? You shake your head at yourself. You have responsibilities—real responsibilities. Your wife is probably finishing dinner, and your sons need you before bedtime.

With a firm nod, you power down your computer. Enough internet for one day.

[redpill-tfs]

are there any requests in the queue right now? just wondering

There sure are. I currently have 23 requests in my inbox right now. I’m trying to get through them when I can, but a combination of real life stuff and a general lack of inspiration are making it difficult.

I do want to do as many as I can though.

[redpill-tfs]

My husband keeps trying to convince me to take the red pill with him. He says it will be easier than being a gay couple in the new America. But I'm not sure it is the right thing to do.

You sit in the passenger seat of the car, arms crossed, eyes flicking between the endless sprawl of buildings lining the city streets and the steady, determined grip of your husband’s hands on the wheel. The tension in your chest hasn’t dissipated since election night. The weight of disappointment clings to you, making every conversation feel heavier, every news update on your phone more unbearable until you finally put it in the cupholder next to you.

Your husband had suggested the road trip as a way to clear your mind, to put some distance between yourselves and the endless cycle of online arguments and news coverage. At first, you had been hesitant, but as the days passed, the idea of a brief escape became more appealing. A few days away from the city, from the protests and the headlines, sounded like the break you needed.

The car hums beneath you as the two of you leave the city behind, the skyline shrinking in the rearview mirror. The further you drive, the more the world around you begins to shift. The towering buildings give way to open roads flanked by fields, the air becoming clearer, the sky stretching endlessly above. There’s something oddly soothing about the rhythmic motion of the car, the way the miles pass without effort.

That's when you first notice the change in your hands. Your fingers, once slender and deft, now feel thicker, stronger. The veins stand out more prominently against your skin, the muscle beneath firm and unfamiliar. You glance at your husband, startled, and see the same transformation in him. His frame, once lean, has broadened, his shoulders squared with a presence that feels both foreign and oddly natural. You two trained together six days a week, so of course you were going to see results! You weren't some weak little nerds, now were you?

A glance in the mirror reveals more. Your face looks… different. Sharper. The soft curls you’ve always had are gone, replaced by a short, practical crop of blonde hair. Your reflection stares back at you with a gaze that seems more authoritative, more assured. There is a flicker of something—concern?—but it is brief, melting into the steady calm that has begun to settle over you.

Your clothes, too, have changed. The casual hoodie and jeans you left the city in are gone, replaced by the crisp white of a uniform shirt, the stiff press of a black tie around your neck. The dark blue of your pants matches your husband’s, the badge pinned to your chest gleaming in the midday sun. You press a hand to it, a swell of pride filling your chest. The weight of it feels… right. Natural. As if it had always belonged there. And it does.

The car beneath you is no longer the same, either. The dashboard gleams with the polished precision of a patrol vehicle, the radio crackling to life with familiar voices calling out dispatches and unit updates. You adjust your seat without thought, the motions practiced, instinctive. The interior smells of leather and coffee, a scent that sparks an odd sense of nostalgia. This is your patrol car. Your partner sits beside you, a presence you have relied on for years. You feel like there might have been something more between you, but why would there be? Neither of you were into that queer stuff. You were best friends and partners, each with a wife and children who shared their own bonds.

The road leads you into town, a small but proud community where you’ve lived and served for years. You and your partner exchange a look, a silent understanding passing between you. You are here to do your duty, to protect and uphold what is right.

The election? You smile thinking about it now. Trump was going to uphold law and order in the government and at the border, just like you do at your job. You'd never been a liberal in all your years of voting and had no plans of starting now. Not when they want to defund your department for doing its basic duties!

The radio crackles again, and without hesitation, you respond, your partner already turning the wheel in the direction of duty. You have a job to do now. Criminals to arrest, peace to uphold. You wouldn't have it any other way.

[redpill-tfs]

I am a 40-something super intelligent Asian-American male. I've been fighting against people like Trump and fighting for social justice for over 20 years. I'm tired. Just feed me the red pill and please make me a total douchebag gym bro.

I can understand not wanting to fight it anymore, bro. Trust me, you'll experience so much more winning on the Right side of history. I have your red pill right here. It comes with a free Trump 2024 water bottle, which you'll need with your working out.

I think we’re gonna need to take care of your smarts. I want you to feel them dripping out of your brain and into your balls. Why would you ever need to know what a mitochondria is? You probably can’t even spell that anymore. You only need to be able to read the directions on your protein powder and just enough to get you through day to day life. You always hated school anyway.

Now the pill is having an effect on your muscles it seems. If you want to be a gym bro you’ll certainly need to look the part! You work out your whole body every single day and it shows. Just look at those shoulder muscles! And those pecs make any shirt with buttons and impossible task. I can tell you don’t skip leg day either. The pill even gave you a nice little bubble butt.

Not that anything will ever go into it. Everyone knows douchebag gym bros are straight alpha males. Why would you ever care what those gay losers do? In fact, why would you ever care about anyone besides yourself? That whole “social justice” bullshit makes you laugh. Let’s put all that down into your balls too. You earned people’s respect by yourself and others can be adult do the same thing if they actually tried and stopped whining about it.

Just imagine it bro. The only cock you want to see anymore is your own. It barely fits in your jock strap. Any woman who sees you is going to be begging you to take her home with you. If she doesn’t then she’s just lying to herself and needs a little convincing.

Of course we can’t forget about your politics. It is a red pill after all. What else would you be besides a true patriot for the greatest country on earth? Why would you ever dream of fighting them, bro? What could the democrats possibly give you? Feelings? Empty words and broken promises? A weaker America?

Let Trump take over your mind. Listen to Trump and his subordinates. Watch only conservative news channels. Listen only to conservative podcasts and YouTube channels. They will think for you now. They know what’s best.

Now cum. Let your old self out. Become who you were always meant to be.

Looks like you made quite a mess there, bro. Don’t worry. I’ve got some new clothes for you right here. Matching red tank top and shorts. Gotta show the bros at the gym who you represent now, don’t we? Plus all those loyal fans on TikTok and OnlyFans just thirsting over everything you post. It’s the perfect job for a stuck up douchebag gym bro like you! Now get on out there and lift some weights and pound some pussy!

[redpill-tfs]

Phew... I'm pretty much done with college now. I'm excited to start my teacher training! Hopefully I can be a great role model and make every student feel welcome in my science classes. If I can even encourage a few students with open minds and diverse thoughts to get into STEM, maybe the future of the US and the world won't be so bleak. Looks like I've got an email from the high school I'm set to teach in, and they wanna have a meeting with me soon... something about the school's values?

You arrive at the principal's office a few minutes early, your polo shirt neatly tucked into your khakis. You have to look good for your first day after all, especially when you have a meeting with the head honcho himself. Your shirt is a little big on you, but you don't exactly have much muscle. You were too busy studying nerdy subjects like chemistry, calculus, and physics to make it to the gym or do any sort of sports. Not that it was your scene anyway. You give two quick knocks on the door.

"Enter," his deep booming voice calls out from within.

You quickly enter the room, sitting down in the chair across the desk from Principal Reece. With his muscles bulging out of his dress shirt and commanding presence, he's exactly the type of man you'd never be in a million years. You remember him saying in the interview this is his first school year here too, and he has a vision for how his school should be run.

"I know we discussed a bit about your teaching philosophy in your interview, but I just wanted to make sure we're on the same page about a few things. This school has a certain atmosphere we'd like to keep.

You hesitantly nod and give a verbal approval. You really need this job, and surely it can't be that bad, right?

"First, I want to reiterate that this is a private Christian school. That means everything we teach is through the lens of the Bible. I'm sure that's okay with you."

At first you're confused. You swore this was a public school when you applied. But the more you thought about it, the less sense that made. Why would you want to teach anywhere you couldn't spread the word of God? Your religion is extremely important to you. Your parents enrolled you in private school as soon as you were old enough for school and you thank them every day for it now. You think everyone should have the opportunity to go to a school like this one.

Principal Reece barely acknowledges your reply before continuing. "We also want all of our teachers to coach a sport or lead an after school club. Looking back at my notes from your interview, it looks like you want to coach football?"

You remember them mentioning that in your interview, but you swore you had put down D&D club. But why would you have said that? You weren't some type of nerd! Sure you have a bachelor's degree in science, but you're a jock through and through. You were the quarterback all throughout high school and college, leading your team to countless victories. All that gym training stuck with you and you've continued to go every morning. The muscles bulging out of your polo show what hard work can do to a man. You couldn't wait to share your passion with the next generation.

"We also have a strict dress code for faculty. Good to see you got that email."

You take a look down at your outfit, confirming you meet the standards. A crisp white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to show off your arms. A red striped tie around your neck, going down to your belt buckle as is standard. Dark blue dress pants and brown dress shoes complete the look. It feels good to dress formally. You wanted to talk with Principal Reece about implementing a similar dress code for the students as well.

"Most importantly, this school teaches conservative values. We have no desire to cave to the woke mob and indoctrinate children and demand our instructors feel the same way."

You earnestly agree. That's why you decided to teach history. America is the greatest country ever created and the kids deserve to know that! Too much of science has been taken over by liberal propaganda anyway. Those snowflakes say to "trust the science" but you know better than that. You have a no nonsense policy for that woke crap in your classroom. You run your classroom like a tight ship. It's either the Right way or the wrong way, and you don't have patience for the wrong way.

Principal Reece gives you a smile that seems more like a smirk, but you're probably just imagining things. Great to see we're on the same page. I'll let you go to your classroom now. I have a few more one on one meetings before classes start.

You head off to your classroom and sit at your desk, going over your lesson plans for the day. After the Pledge of Allegiance (which you'll proudly lead the class in reciting), attendance, the syllabus you're going to start off the year with the Revolutionary War. You hear the first bell ring and hear the students starting to shuffle in.

It's the start of another school year, and you have work to do.

[redpill-tfs]

Wow, the situation in the US sucks. I mean, nobody likes politics here in the UK either but dear lord Trump and his rabid followers are braindead. Huh? Who's knocking on my door?

You have a pretty good routine for Sundays. Wake up, laze around in bed on your phone for a bit, and then go about cleaning your flat after you get dressed. Classic shirt and hoodie sounds good for today, with a good pair of jeans. Other than that, you didn't have many plans for the day. Maybe the lads will wanna watch the football game later (real football, not that crap Americans called football). You don't have uni until tomorrow anyway.

You turn on the TV, immediately switching the channel when you see it's on the news. You can't stand politics, especially not when they seem fixated on what's happening in the US. All they talk about now is Trump, Trump, and more Trump. It makes you wanna puke.

Just as you finally find a channel with something worth watching, you hear a knock on your door. You take a look through the peephole to find two men in dark suits and red ties, their sunglasses hiding their eyes, their expressions blank.

Against your better judgement, you open the door. The two men immediately push past you into your living room. As you try to protest, one of the men pulls something out of his pocket and sprays a red substance directly in your face. You feel dizzy and light headed, and kinda sleepy too. It's not long before you pass out, feeling the men carry you out of the flat.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You have a pretty good routine for Sundays. Wake up, get dressed, head to church (you wouldn't miss it for anything!), then come back to your apartment and change into your football jersey and best pair of jeans. Sure the jeans may have holes in them, but isn't that trending with the kids nowadays? Other than that, you don't have many plans for the day. You don't have work at the construction site until tomorrow anyway. You're sure the bros will wanna get together to watch the Super Bowl later though. Nothing like good ol' American football to bring you all together!

You turn the TV on, finding your favorite conservative news channel talking about all the good Trump's been doing. You sit and watch for a bit, seeing how much your side is winning. Fixing the MAGA hat on your head, you couldn't be more proud to be an American than right now. 'Cept maybe when your favorite teams crushes it tonight!

As time passes and the game finally starts, you roar in excitement when they score an early touchdown. You may not have much, but you live in the greatest country on Earth and God blesses you in so many ways. Yep, life is pretty good in sunny Alabama.

[redpill-tfs]

I love to read your stories/tales so much. They are just really really hot and sooo good. It makes me wait to read the new ones.

It also makes me want to ask you a question or rather a request, actually now I am thinking about it.

But I don't know what I should ask you? Like what the rules about it? And any suggestions for me to ask?

Thank you for reading this and I understand if you won't want to answer this question.

I just want to tell you how magnificent your stories are! That all.

I really appreciate the compliments! I'd love it if you gave a story request. I'm pretty open to things, and all I can really say is you should go with whatever you want.

I think the big thing is to be specific about what you want. Sometimes it can be hard for me to know if someone will like the changes I'm giving them, like gay to straight, especially since a lot of my asks are anonymous and I can't check their blogs to see what they like and repost. It helps when people describe themselves now and what they want to become with the red pill.

[redpill-tfs]

So if the red pill exists, in theory a blue counterpart could also exist yeah? What happens to guys who take both?

This is a very good question. I haven't heard of a blue pill going around, but I'm probably the type of person they want to keep that info away from. Assuming such a thing exists, I have a theory on what would happen.

If they're taken one after the other over a longer period of time, they would likely function as normal. For example, if someone took a red pill and then a blue pill, they would become their ideal conservative self and then their ideal liberal self, whatever that looks like.

If both pills are taken at or around the same time, my theory is that the pill effects would combine and make the person a centrist in every way. In my experience, the pills tend to make people into stereotypes, so they would become a stereotypical centrist on all issues, claiming both sides are bad, etc.

It's also entirely possible that one pill is just inherently stronger than the other and cause the other pill to have no effect. Further research is required for this theory.

[redpill-tfs]

I need some help. My family is sending me to my ultra-conservative redneck uncle's ranch for the summer and I'm already dreading having to listen to them spew the nonsense they hear on the news.

Do you have anything that could help make this summer a bit more tolerable?

I'd imagine that would be hard, going to spend time with someone you don't see eye to eye with, having to do hard labor in the sun when you're more of a computer guy. Forced to go to church when that's not really your thing. Hearing him talk about the corrupt politicians in Washington and how Trump is going to drain the swamp. I know exactly what will help you feel better about this summer. I put a little something in your packed lunch. Don't worry, I made sure it's vegan. I'd take it now so it can take effect by the time you get to your uncle's place.

It'll take you a little bit to get there in your new Honda, wanting to keep the car in good condition as long as you can. Your single bag in in the backseat. The highway is simple enough and uneventful, but your uncle lives about a mile from a small town, farmland and backroads the only way there. With no real choice in the matter, you leave your parent's driveway.

You turn on your Spotify playlist, getting a pop song from your favorite gay artist. You sing along, your dyed hair swaying as you move your body, thinking about how much of an inspiration they are to you. The highway is strangely quiet for this time of day, but you don't mind the lack of traffic.

The song ends as a country song starts playing next. Must be one of the songs Spotify is recommending you today.You've never really been a fan of country music, finding it all seems to be about girls, trucks and beer, but you can tolerate it for one song. It's surprisingly catchy. Not your usual style of music, but it's not bad.

The lyrics are all about a guy in his worn out pick up truck, his worn out shirt and boots showing him to be a man's man. His calloused hands prove he's a hard worker. He sounds nothing like you, but you can almost relate to him in a strange way. After all, you're wearing your old boots for the drive. And you put on a worn out shirt and jeans too, just like your uncle always wears.

You don't remembering putting the outfit on, or even owning it in the first place, but before you can dwell on it too long the next song starts. It's another country song, this time about growing up in a small town and being a conservative man. It's got a nice beat to it as you tap your fingers against the steering wheel. You're nothing like the guy in the song, but the more you think about it, the more you remember visiting your uncle every summer to stay with him. He taught you the importance of conservative values, How those city slickers like your folks didn't know the meaning of hard work. You discovered your faith in God and he bought you your first Bible before you went back home. The godless liberals just want free handouts and to take your money for themselves.

You scoff at the sissies as yet another song plays. You recognize this song. It's Austin by Dasha. You sure can't relate to this song at all! Your boots are in good shape and your truck never would never break down on you. Sure it might need a new paint job from years of use but it still works as well as the day you got it. A birthday gift from your uncle. You're so glad he agreed to let you stay with him and gave you a job at his gun shop in town.

As you pulled into your uncle's driveway and hopped out of your truck, you knew this was going to be a good summer. And fall, winter, and spring.

[redpill-tfs]

Hey! This whole red pill stuff is really hitting a ton of people, but they're all so political. I'm a young gay guy. Perhaps there's a more... Holy future for me. Do you think there's a way to make me end up as some kind of conservative Red Pilled reverend?

It's a wonderful Saturday afternoon as you're walking down the street. Warmer temperatures, birds chirping, not a cloud in the sky. You reach into the pocket of your jeans and find a strange red capsule that you swear wasn't there before. You feel compelled to put it in your mouth, swallow it. So you do.

At first you feel completely fine, as though nothing had happened. You decide to just go back to your apartment, spending the evening alone as usual. Maybe jerk off to pictures of men online. That's when you hear the BOOM of thunder and dark clouds rapidly forming over you. As the rain starting soaking you through your clothes, you dart inside the nearest building to weather out the storm.

Catching your breath, you find yourself in a small, ornate church. Since you're stuck inside anyway, you figure you might as well take a look around. You approach the podium at the front of the church, finding a Bible filled with Post-it notes. You weren't too familiar with the book, but maybe the notes could give you the short version. You feel drawn to it and open to the first note.

A man must be familiar with the Bible's teachings

You nod your head as you read the words. Your parents took you to church ever since you were born and you were immediately drawn into the community. You read the Bible every chance you could, joined the youth group and Bible study when you were old enough. Your parents often joked your first word was Mama and your second word was Jesus. Smiling at the memories, you turn to the book of Numbers, where the next note is.

A man must always dress for the occasion.

This pastor is a wise man. You adjust the cuffs of your dress shirt, making sure everything is perfect. Just because it's the weekend doesn't mean you should be sloppy! Even today you're in a nice blue suit with a perfectly knotted black tie, a white pocket square adding a bit of sophistication. Plus you like a hot man in a suit! You turn the page to the next note, thinking about your collection of formalwear.

A man must be a family man, creating the next generation of men.

You smirk at that one. You knew what it meant to be a family man. You and your husband married young and adopted as soon as you were able. You loved being a father. Taking the kids to school, going to their sports games, spending the evenings talking and laughing over a home cooked meal, and of course raising them in the church. You notice a note is on your son's favorite Bible story and flip to that page.

A pastor must be straight and conservative.

Well that's a given. Not that you had anything against the gays, you just couldn't get into that. You and your wife were high school sweethearts, fated to be together to enact God's will. Consummating your marriage on your wedding night led to your daughter being born nine months later while you were starting your degree in theology. With your faith based background, you were sure to raise your children RIGHT. Traditional values were important to you, and you and your wife wanted your children to be raised with those in mind.

You close the Bible, writing a few more notes for the sermon. You needed to leave early to prepare, so your wife is bringing the children for Sunday service in a few minutes. Sure enough, the early crowd is already starting to shuffle in.

It's a wonderful Sunday morning as you start the service, your wife and kids sitting up front like usual. You give them a quick smile as you begin. God has truly blessed you.

[redpill-tfs]

Can you help Red Pill me and my husband? He's a bit resistant to change, but I want us to become MAGA and serve our country together as proud, conservative gay guys.

I'd be glad to help you and your husband serve this great nation! I'll give you two tablets. Take one yourself and sneak the other in your husband's morning coffee while he isn't looking. He'll be transformed by the evening, as will you.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You and your husband had a familiar morning routine. Wake up, get dressed in a polo shirt and jeans on the weekdays or a t shirt and khaki shorts on the weekends, and have a quick breakfast with your morning coffee. Today was a Tuesday, so you slipped your blue polo over your head as you made your way to the kitchen. You made two quick bowls of cereal and two mugs of coffee, dissolving the red tablets into each cup before taking everything to the table.

"Morning babe." Your husband says as he appears and gives you a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thanks for doing breakfast."

"Of course babe. I gotta feed my big man before he goes to work after all." You replied, placing his bowl and mug in front of him, a rainbow mug you picked up at a pride parade for him.

He took the mug with a smile as he opened his phone to CNN, looking at the morning news. He frowned as he took a sip and set the mug back down. "Did you do something different with the coffee this morning? It tastes kind of funny."

"No babe," you lied. "I made it the same as usual."

"Strange. Maybe I'm coming down with something. I think I'll call the office and tell them I'm not coming in."

You frown at that. Your husband was the main breadwinner in the family with you out of work at the moment. You didn't like seeing him feeling ill.

"Alright babe. Want me to go grab you something from the store to help?"

"Sure."

You smile at that, finishing up your breakfast. "I'll be right back then." You put your dishes in the sink, intending to do them later as you step foot out of the apartment you rent in the city.

You think of walking since the store is only a block away, but you feel compelled to get in the car and drive instead. Putting your foot on the gas, you drive into the horrible morning traffic.

It doesn't take long to get to the store, but you don't stop. You keep driving for a while, turning the radio on as you go. The host announces the democrat mayor of your city has announced she will protect illegal immigrants from deportation. You smile at that , proud the person you voted for is putting in work.

As you pull into one of the neighborhood communities, you see a car parked outside a house with an Open House sign in the yard. You've never been to this area before, but you know you and your husband couldn't afford to live here. The houses are too nice, the lawns freshly kept. You couldn't even afford to adopt a kid. A man could dream at least.

You feel compelled to go inside and check it out. You give yourself a once over in the car mirror, your dress shirt still fitting nicely. (Weren't you wearing a polo?) You head inside to find a nice open concept layout, everything recently remodeled. As you turn to explore more of the house, a young couple comes up to you.

"Excuse me, can you tell me a bit more about this house?" The husband says while the wife looks at you expectantly.

You know nothing about the house, but it wouldn't be right to turn them down, especially since you can't see the realtor anywhere. So you say whatever comes to mind, how the house is a three bed, two bath home with 1800 square feet, a nice backyard for kids and pets to play in, and a bonus room over the garage. The neighborhood itself has plenty of schools and parks nearby, as well as five churches within a mile. Overall, the perfect area to raise a family.

They seem satisfied with your answer and leave you alone, leaving to explore the rooms. You head into the half bathroom connected to the kitchen, checking your reflection again in the mirror. Your red tie is perfectly in place, and your suit jacket looks good on you. You need to dress professionally and look good to sell houses after all. You fix a few stray hairs before heading back into the kitchen to greet more people coming in.

You feel good as the open house ends for the day. A lot of people came through the door, and some of them put offers in. You couldn't wait to tell your husband the good news. You get back in the car and turn on the radio again. This time you hear that President Trump's administration will be preparing to deport illegals in the city against the mayor's wishes. You smile at that, proud the man you voted for is putting in work. You can't believe the mayor would fight this. Good thing you voted against her.

Pulling into the driveway of the house you bought a year ago, you spy your husband already outside waiting for you. He looks really nice in his pink shirt and bow tie. Just because he's a stay at home dad doesn't mean he doesn't put effort into how he looks.

He greets you with a kiss as you tell each other about your days. He walked your two sons to school, tended to the garden outside, mowed the lawn, and made dinner for the four of you to share. He celebrates the news of the offers at the open house, giving you another kiss.

As the two of you head inside to spend the evening with your kids, you think about all that you have. A wonderful home in a great neighborhood, the best family you could ask for, and Republicans controlling the national government, enacting the policies you've been wanting. Life is good.

[redpill-tfs]

Don't know if you can do this but they just shut down my job in DEI with construction. I just want to be seen as one of thes guys. I guess I am ready to take the red pill.

You get a call from the foreman at the construction site, asking you to come to his office. You quickly make your way over, Dres shirt and pants on with no time to change.

He gestures for you to sit down, telling you that he's sorry about you being let go and offers you a position on the crew. Not wanting to go through unemployment and searching for a new job, you accept. You try to tell your boss you have no experience, but he just shrugs you off and says you'll learn quickly. He hands you the hard hat, safety glasses, and hi vis jacket the rest of the crew wears and tells you to get to work.

Putting on the uniform, you quickly walk over to the other guys to learn the ropes. They're joking around and talking about how great Trump is doing in office. You mentally shake your head as you greet them. Deciding your skinny frame and weak arms would be a hinderance to most jobs, you're assigned the wrench and told to tighten the bolts around the site. You can hear them talking about you as you leave, how you'll be a real man soon.

Your head starts to feel a bit dizzy as you walk over to the first bolt. It's almost like there's some type of motion in the glasses that you can't quite see. Shaking it off, you try tightening the first bolt. It takes a lot longer than it should, and that's when you realize you're turning it the wrong way. It's almost funny how dumb a college educated man could be sometimes.

The sun's rays are raining down on you, so you move to roll up your sleeves. To your surprise, you find the sleeves cut off, revealing massive arm muscles. As you start wondering what happened, you see more movement in the glasses. You shake the feeling off, remembering you tear the sleeves off all your shirts to create more room for the big guns. That's what happens when you work construction and work out regularly after all. You smirk and give a quick flex before heading to the next bolts.

Your next stop takes you next to Curt, one of the loudmouths on the crew. He'd been reported to you several times since he joined for offhand comments made to other people, claiming he was just joking. He was a proud Trump supporter and questioned the other guys about who they voted for. You groan internally and get to work, trying to get this over with as fast as possible. He comments on your haircut, calling you Old Man. Your mind goes dizzy as the glasses blur again, almost making a swirl pattern. You scoff at him. You're not that old, you're only 41. Some may call that old, but you're just in your prime. The stubble on your face and short haircut make you look good and you know it. You ignore Curt, getting back to work.

He comes up behind you and pats you on the back, asking if you want to get a beer or two after work with the rest of the guys. You're about to say no when the glasses swirl again. Of course you want to go for drinks with the bros! It's been a tradition as long as you've worked here. You smile as you think about sitting next to Curt, shooting the shit and making stupid jokes with each other. Some of the other guys at the bar would give you odd looks, but you know they're just snowflakes who get offended over everything. You'd never be like those losers. You've proudly voted Republican since you turned 18 and could vote.

You turn back to Curt and joke around with him for a bit before the foreman comes by and tells you two to get back to work. He gives you a smile as you leave, but you can't figure out why. You try not to think about it too much thinking just hurts your brain.

[redpill-tfs]

Out of curiosity, are there different types of red pills? Like a redneck pill or a military pill or a jock pill? Or is it all the same pill?

That is a very good question.

There is one type of red pill currently in development, but that pill can take on many forms. The most common form is the standard pill capsule, but there are also syringes, dissolvable tablets, even chocolate bars for those with a sweet tooth. Red chocolate is quite a sight if you've never seen it.

Though the pill itself takes many different forms, most of the ingredients are the same. The pill is designed to change the person based on their previous life and how resistant they are to the changes. Think of it like the sorting hat from Harry Potter if you will, except common stereotypes like jock, redneck, military, cop, politician, etc. instead of the four houses.

The pill knows what's best for you.

[redpill-tfs]

i think your writing is hot just wish you didnt use ai pics, they take me out.

First of all, I'm glad you like my stories. I really try to put effort into each one and make them different. Second, I completely understand your opinion on AI pictures. I know this has been a bit of a debate online about the pros and cons of AI images in stories and I think both sides have merit. I'll explain why I prefer using AI images though.

One: The convenience of it. I mainly use Bing and Leonardo for my images and both of them are completely free to use with enough credits to get me what I need. I don't have to spend time looking at photos on the Internet to find what I want. I can go online, type in what I want to see, and have an image in a few seconds.

Two: I'm not a fan of using regular images. I know people use Tumblr stories to jerk off, and that includes mine. I personally find it kinda creepy to use images of people for this type of material without their consent. I don't think that's fair to the people in the pics at all.

Those are the main reasons. There may be more I'm not thinking of right now but the tl;dr is comfort level. That all being said, I do want to know the opinion of those who read my stories. I'll still ultimately make the decision myself, but I want to know what you all think.

Note: I don’t use AI to write my stories. It’s only images.

[redpill-tfs]

Hey, just quick… you’re fantasizing about becoming a fascist. You need to rethink your life.

I'm going to assume this is genuine and not a request for a story. This is also the only time I will answer an ask of this type.

I want to make one thing very clear.

I'm not "fantasizing" about anything. As I say in my disclaimer on my page, these stories are all works of fiction and do not represent my views.

This may surprise you, but I don't actually want my stories to become reality. I fully support LGBT rights and I am pro choice, to name a few of my beliefs. I don't believe every person should become a straight conservative Christian. People are free to do what they want. I make my stories more on the extreme side because that's what I like and find hot, and others seem to feel the same.

I know not everyone likes stories like these and that is fine. Some (like you) even find these stories problematic for various reasons. I could go into how I feel most transformation stories on Tumblr and other websites could be seen as problematic (especially stories transforming people without consent), but this is not the time or place for that discussion.

These stories are not going to magically turn people into "fascists" as you call them. Gay to straight and liberal to conservative stories have been around for over a decade now, as have their counterparts. I'm not going to stop writing stories I enjoy writing and reading just because people don't like it. If you don't like this type of content, you can always block the tags (or my blog, I won't care at all).

That goes for anyone reading this as well. I don't care if you like my stories or not. I write them for myself first and foremost and want to share them with others who like this sort of thing. If you don't want to see it, then don't. It won't cause me any pain I promise.

Also this is just my opinion, but I'd focus more on the people posting actual swastikas and Nazi salutes and "White Power" tributes over the guy playing dress up and pretend with others on the Internet.