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axeeglitter · 2 months ago

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Contract of the Flesh

Jonathan Bell used to be the proud owner of a small artisan bakery tucked into a quiet street corner of Vancouver. With warm wood interiors, rustic loaves, and a dream that rose like his sourdough starters, he thought he had finally carved out his own space in the world. But dreams, like pastries, can collapse if the heat is too high and the timing too wrong.

The pandemic had gutted foot traffic. Costs rose. Rent doubled. Desperate to keep the doors open, Jonathan took out loans from sources he didn’t understand, hidden behind sleek business cards and fake smiles. Men who never wrote their names down, who only gave numbers and took them back later with sharp interest. Jonathan couldn’t accept to lose his dream. Not after all he had done to make it a reality. He just needed more time to jump back on track. But every day, less and less customer came and soon he was the only one in there.

After 4 more month of struggle and financial deficit, the bakery closed permanently. Jonathan lost everything; his business, his dream, his confidence. But the debts remained. And they were due. After another terrible mental day of giving his resume to every possible company he could think of, he finally was on his way back home. His shoulders were low and his back broken by the weight of the responsibilities and his anxiety. As he walked in front of what was once his bakery, he saw that the place was now empty of life and hope. Everything had been taken down except the sign on the front with “Bakery” written in gold. Jonathan sighed and his shoulders fell back a bit lower as he resumed his path. “Excuse me sir! Do you know what happened to this place? I heard it was a really bakery but I see it’s closed.” He heard from behind him as he turned back to see who was talking. Jonathan stood there, not answering for a couple of second before realizing the young couple was talking to him. “Oh Hello. Sorry I was lost in my thoughts. Well yes, I know. This bakery was mine but I had to close a couple of weeks ago. The pandemic and the big Supermarket grabbed my last clients and I couldn’t face it anymore. Sorry but you are coming a bit too late!” he finished trying to change the mood of the conversation with a faint smile as he turned his way back to resume his path. “In fact, I think we are coming right at the perfect timing!” said the couple as they jumped on Jonathan’s back, taking him out as he fainted on the spot.

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Jonathan woke in a place he didn’t recognize.

The room was dark, lit only by the low glow of strange machines and an overhead bulb that cast him in stark, dramatic light. He was strapped tightly to a cold, metallic chair with his arms and legs restrained. His breath came fast, fogging the air in front of him. Every muscle in his body ached, and terror sat like a stone in his chest.

In front of him, lounging on a velvet couch that looked out of place in such an industrial space, sat a man in a mahogany coat and a white shirt. He was tall, lean, and somehow too composed. His eyes, a pale steel-gray, didn’t blink. Two more men stood flanking the couch.

Jonathan swallowed hard. “Please,” he said, voice dry. “Where am I?”

The man on the couch tilted his head slowly, like a wolf considering its prey.

“You borrowed,” he said quietly. “You signed. Now you repay.” Jonathan’s eyes opened big as he understood who this person lurching in the shadows was.

“Mister Alaric. I; if I could just explain,” Jonathan stammered, his voice cracking as he shifted against the bindings. “The bakery failed. I’m looking for a job so I can repay you. I will pay, I just need some more time. I didn’t know what I was getting into. I didn’t know you…”

“You knew enough to take the money.”

There was no anger in the man’s voice. That terrified Jonathan more than shouting ever could. This wasn’t a negotiation. It was a statement.

In a smooth and soft movement, the men got up and for the first time, Jonathan could see his face. He took a step on the left and went to the desk on the left corner of the room where he grabbed and opened a wooden box Jonathan watched, trembling in fear and anticipation as he thought it was the end. But when the men turned back, he was holding a pair of glasses between his rugged fingers. It looked like a pair of futuristic-looking glasses, with slim lenses and a pulsing blue edge shining in the internal side of the glasses. He slipped them onto his face and smile before taking a pause in his path.

Invisible to Jonathan’s eyes, the glasses lit on with a pressure of the men’s fingers on the branches and a panel of light flared into the air around him. His hand moved slowly through the space around him, moving left and right, up and down, like if he was adjusting parameters on invisible sliders.

Jonathan blinked. “What are you doing? What is it?”

No answer.

The man turned his head slightly toward the empty chair beside Jonathan. With a smooth, practiced gesture, he swiped something in the air and reality started to ripple and adjust. The chair began to shimmer, its form flickering like a broken screen. The edges warped, twisted, and melted. Within seconds, the chair had become a tall bottle of whiskey sitting on a small wooden table.

Jonathan stared, frozen in surprise and incomprehension. “How is it possible? What happened?!” he screamed as tears of sweat started to pour from his forehead.

The man stood, plucked the bottle from the air like it had always been there, and poured himself a glass. He sat back down and sipped, still watching Jonathan.

No explanation. No warning.

“How is that possible? What happened to the chair? What was that?” Jonathan continued, still surprised and terrified about what happened next to him. In front of his eyes, the reality adjusted and the chair had disappeared. It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t.

“So, as I was saying, Jonathan. You owe me money.” The men said in a calm voice taking a sip of whisky.

Jonathan’s breathing was shallow, his eyes darting wildly around the room, trying to find logic to what just happened, a way out, something, anything. But it was the man in the glasses who moved instead; slow, measured, confident.

He took another sip of whisky before putting it on the table on his right, stood from the couch and walked closer to Jonathan’s bound, trembling form. The soft click of his shoes echoed in the strange, sterile space. Jonathan felt his skin crawl.

The man crouched to his level. Their eyes met. Jonathan’s lips quivered.

“I don’t understand; please. Let me go” he whispered, a single tear escaping the corner of his eye.

The man reached forward with one hand and gently wiped the tear away with the tip of his index finger.

“You will.” Mister Alaric said simply before walking a few steps back to face him. He then snapped his fingers and the two men standing behind the couch started to walk to Jonathan. Still bonded to the chair with duct tape, Jonathan couldn’t do anything except seeing the two men walking in his direction. “Please no! Stop! I’m sorry. Don’t…” Jonathan couldn’t finish his sentence as one of the men grabbed a pair of scissors and started to cut open Jonathan’s shirt in the middle of the chest. The other one did the same with the pair of jeans he was wearing. Then the same happened with Jonathan’s underwear. After a couple of minutes, Jonathan stood there, naked but still attached to the chair. His clothes shredded on his body and on the ground beneath his feet. “Thank you. You can go now.” Said Mister Alaric nodding to his bodyguards as they exited the room. Leaving it only between him and Jonathan’s naked body. “Now, I think we should start, shall we?” Mister Alaric said as for the first time, Jonathan could see a fainted smile creep on the corner of his lips. Jonathan watched, heart hammering in his chest, as the man lifted his hand again and began to move his fingers through the air. To Jonathan, it looked like he was miming gestures in an invisible box. He couldn't see the panels, the floating fields of data, sliders, toggles, each one labeled with anatomical terms and arcane modifiers.

The man’s eyes glowed behind the lenses as he stared at Jonathan. Every motion he made adjusted the reality until the simulation he was working with finally satisfied his envies. “Perfect” Mister Alaric said in a calm emotionless voice as his fingers double clicked on an invisible checkbox. “Please, I promise I will pay you ba… aaAAhhHHH” Jonathan screamed as an alien sensation invaded his whole body. It felt like his core was imploding, his cells exploding and imploding at the same time before merging back together. His vision blurred before coming back to normal again and again with every beat of his heart.

Jonathan shrieked as his spine pulled upward, vertebrae grinding, bones stretching with loud, grotesque cracks that echoed in the sterile space. His torso extended, his ribs expanding as though being pried apart from within. His legs stretched next, sinew tearing and reforming, knees seizing in jagged spasms as he grew taller, going from 174 cm to a towering 192.

"What happened! Make it stop please it hu-uurts!" Jonathan cried, his voice shaking as he didn’t realize yet his line of sight was a bit higher than before.

Mister Alaric paused, head tilted slightly, watching him with mild interest. With a calm flick, he adjusted a nearby slider and gave another quiet nod. “NO PLEASE DON… HAAAAAA” Jonathan screamed once again as Mister Alaric double clicked on the checkbox.

His feet began to warp. The bones inside cracked one after another like knuckles being popped in rapid succession. His arches reshaped, pulling higher, the balls of his feet swelling. Each toe lengthened, joints snapping, toenails thickening. The skin toughened, calloused as if he'd spent a decade barefoot on hot concrete. He felt the pressure in every nerve, his foot size expanding painfully from a modest 39 to an immense 45.

"My feet! Oh God! Why do they feel like they're on fire?! I can’t do this! Please!!"

Mister Alaric leaned in, studying the swelling bones, then lazily flicked a control. Jonathan felt a sharp, instant pull at the soles, more height, more pressure. The man murmured, “Needs more grounding.” As Jonathan’s feet grew now to a 47 size. “What are you talking about?! Please stop! I won’t talk to anyone. I will pay you back. No don’t do that. Plea.. AHHHHHHH” Jonathan screamed as the men in front of him double click on a new box.

Jonathan’s muscles seized, clenched involuntarily as though flexing against his will again and again. Every fiber throbbed, his arms bulging outward, veins crawling along his skin like vines under pressure. His chest ballooned into a hard, defined shelf. His pecs grew hot, flesh rippling as if molten. His biceps throbbed and swelled until his skin felt like it might split. He could feel his abs stitching into place, one ridge at a time, along his now longer torso. His thighs widened with dense, ropelike muscle. Even his neck thickened, vertebrae reshaping to accommodate the raw mass being layered upon him. Jonathan was out of breath. Tears of sweat were rolling down his exposed body as his new muscles kept on spasming again and again without him being to control them.

He gasped; voice ragged. “Why are you doing this to me?! What are you doing?!”

“Why not,” the man replied distantly. “Just better.” This answer felt like someone just poured a bucket of frozen water over his head. The men didn’t even look at him when he said that as he double clocked a new box. Jonathan couldn’t evens creamed as he felt empty, for the first time he realized that nothing he would say or do would stop mister Alaric’s project.

Jonathan felt like millions of needles were piercing through his skin. He tilted his head to his newly sculpted pecs only to see a dusting of hair starting to pierce through his epidermic layer. It felt like he was getting tattooed all over his body as he realized the sensation were now invading every centimeter of his skin in more or less intensity. It began at his chest, a subtle prickling that deepened into a raw, burning sensation. Follicles erupted in dark bursts as hair spread across his pectorals. It poured down his stomach in a defined trail, wound tightly around exposed dick into a forest of dark thick curly pubes. It then burnt under his arms, filling his armpits with thick tufts, after what it coated his calves and thighs in dense, masculine swaths. A warm, heavy scent rose from his skin: musk, rich and humid and cloyingly strong.

Mister Alaric paused, evaluating. Then he waved his hand, and some of the chest hair receded slightly, leaving his pectorals more defined while his armpits flared darker and thicker.

“More balanced,” he muttered, almost to himself.

“Please; stop!” Jonathan sobbed.

Sliders shifted again under Alaric’s touch as he saw behind the blue tinted glasses Jonathan’s body start to spasm in discomfort one more time.

Jonathan’s body flushed a deep red. He shivered violently as every nerve in his body became hyperaware; the tickle of a breeze, the tug of his restraints, the heat radiating from his skin. His lower abdomen buzzed with heat, building into a sharp, unbearable ache. His breathing quickened into gasps.

“Oh god please not there! Don’t… I'm begging you! I don’t want this!”

The pressure in his groin surged. His cock pulsed once, then again, as if the very cells were reconfiguring. It stretched and expanded, the shaft thickening, nerves screaming as new pathways were forged. His testicles followed, swelling, skin tightening around them as they hung lower and fuller. He sobbed from the sensation, part pain, part humiliation, all terror. What once had been 12 cm now stood at an unnatural, heavy 20 cm when erect, his testicles swelling to match. It felt like being inflated from the inside out.

Jonathan screamed, “It’s too much! It hurts! Please… please stop!”

The man stepped in, eyeing the change critically. “Eight more centimeters. Generous. Marketable.” Then, with a flick, he added just a touch more as it grew to 22 cm with thick veins along the length. “I think it would be better if…” he continued as he moved a slider to the left. Jonathan screamed in pain as he saw his foreskin start to recede further and further until all that was left was a scar around his cock head, looking like he got circumcised at birth.

His voice broke, trembling with horror. “Please, just let me go! Please!”

His Adam's apple jerked and reformed, his vocal cords snapping, twisting. A deep vibration followed, his voice warping, dropping into a smoother, darker register that didn’t sound like him at all.

“Wh… what did you do to my voice?!” he cried, the new depth rattling in his chest.

The man simply replied, “You’ll get used to it.” As he double clicks one last box.

Jonathan’s face began to contort. His cheekbones lifted, sharpened, his jaw widened and squared off. He could feel the bones grinding, the cartilage in his nose shifting into a more prominent, assertive shape. His lips tingled and swelled slightly, while his brow reshaped. Vision blurred as his eyes altered subtly, the world snapping into too-sharp clarity.

Jonathan felt like a stranger in his own skin.

“What have you done” he sobbed. “What have you done to me?! I don’t want this. I don’t want th…is! Please! Undo this! I will pay!!”

Mister Alaric simply watched, expression neutral, fingers still hovering mid-air. Jonathan was panting, trembling, his new body glistening with sweat.

Tears streamed down his cheeks. “Please I beg you! I will pay you back. Just undo this and turn me back. I’ve learned the lesson. I will pay!”

Mister Alaric didn’t say a word. He simply stepped back, arms folded, as Jonathan’s screams and cries filled the office.

After a couple of minutes admiring his artwork, mister Alaric finally let a fainted smile creep on the left side of his lips as he unfolded his arms. “You’ll be perfect. Just need a couple of more adjustments!”

Jonathan's chest rose and fell in rapid succession, sweat beading along the ridges of his transformed musculature. He was barely able to catch his breath before the renter resumed his work, fingers again lifting into the air, moving through invisible fields like a puppeteer fine-tuning his marionette.

Jonathan flinched as a new wave of sensations surged across his body; but this time it wasn’t feeling like what he just went through. It was like something was moving all around his new hyper sensitive skin. He tilted his head left when he felt the sleeve his shirt starting to glitch around his skin. It was sending jolts of electricity directly in his muscles as the tissue was changing its form.

Clothes rippled unnaturally against his skin. His tattered shirt kept glitching and shimmering as though responding to a silent command, then began to unravel at the seams, the fabric tightening and drawing itself inward with an eerie precision. Fibers twisted and darkened, binding themselves like serpents around Jonathan’s chest. He gasped, feeling each loop constrict into place as black leather reformed into a harness. It wrapped beneath his pecs, accentuating their form, and slithered down his abdomen. The strap coiled at his groin, where it snapped into a steel ring with a sudden metallic clink. A jolt ran through him, half pain, half shame, as he moaned involuntarily, horrified by the unwanted mixture of sensations. It felt like the base of his cock was hold tightly. Jonathan could start to feel his heart pulse in his freshly cut head as he could feel his flesh starting to harden.

His pants followed, threads of light crawling like insects along his thighs, weaving denim from thin air. It grew darker, rougher, until it formed tight, black jeans that clung to his new muscled hairy legs, worn at the thighs and low at the waist. The fly refused stood open, just enough to feel exposed as the birth of his cock could be seen pulsing and begging to be freed as he thick but trimmed pubes were visible for anybody who wanted to look. A pulse of heat wrapped around his ankles as black Converse shoes materialized, fitting snugly without socks around his 47 size feet.

Jonathan looked down, body trembling, face burning with disbelief and fury. "What… what is this? What are those clothes? Get this off of me!"

Mister Alaric didn’t answer, only paused for a moment, observing. He tilted his head slightly, as if reconsidering. “You are right. This doesn’t fit. Not yet!”

A brief gesture, and Jonathan's chest prickled. Ink rose beneath the skin of his pecs in looping, ornate symbols. Then it spread, dark vines coiling into tattoos that flowed down both arms in full sleeves, ending in sharp patterns at his wrists and climbing his neck to his chin. Another gesture and a metallic ring pinched at his nose and ears, where a subtle silver ring and earrings appeared. In a last move, a black metallic necklace lodged itself around Jonathan’s neck and fell right between his tattooed pecs.

Jonathan gritted his teeth, voice trembling in a deep baritone tone. “Please... I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this. I can fix it; I’ll pay back every cent. Just give me time. Like a week or two.”

Mister Alaric finally spoke. His voice was calm, clinical. “Time is valuable. You traded yours when you defaulted. This is simply… a way to make sure you payback. But don’t worry. You will pay me back. If my calculus is correct, and they always are! You owe me a bit around 896 000 dollars. Let’s make it 1 million for the inconvenience. You couldn’t find a job to pay me back, so here is what we’ll do. You are going to work for me, Jonathan. Which should be covered in around 87 years working for me. I know… it’s a long period of time. But I’m not known for well-paying my employees…”

“What? No, that can’t be… What are you talking about?!” Jonathan pleaded in shock and terror as he tried to understand what mister Alaric just said. “87 years? What are you talking about?!”

But already, Alaric turned the glasses back on and his hands moved left and right again before double clicking on new boxes.

The air around Jonathan thickened, warm and syrupy, curling into his skull like invisible fog. A thousand phantom needles pressed at his temples, and behind his eyes, pressure built until it felt like something was trying to burst through. He gritted his teeth, or tried to, but the pain came in rolling waves. Thoughts, memories, logic… they all slipped like soap in a hot shower.

“No…no, I’m Jonathan! I’m…!”

The words tangled in his throat. His tongue suddenly forgot the order of sounds. He moaned out broken syllables, strings of nonsense, his own name warping into unfamiliar vowels. For a moment, he didn’t even remember how to speak.

Mister Alaric moved his fingers subtly in the air, each gesture like a conductor’s baton rewriting Jonathan’s mind. “Reducing language retention. Limiting complex memory recall. Upgrading primal directives. Downscaling IQ... incrementally.”

Jonathan’s eyes went wide with horror as he felt something inside him snap, not a bone, but a rule, a boundary. Then another. Concepts he’d always understood crumbled into vague feelings. Algebra. Literature. His grandmother’s favorite recipe. All of it faded to a white noise.

His internal voice screamed, but it echoed through a shrinking corridor. He couldn’t focus. The pain in his head wasn’t a sharp stab, it was a dull, endless jackhammer, pounding away at his identity. The fog didn’t stop rolling in. It thickened.

Out of the pain, he began to feel… good. Sort of. Or at least, his body did. It twitched with strange pleasure as the pain twisted into heat, and his posture straightened without his input. A grin tugged at his lips, foreign and smug. He hated it.

“Wha… what happened?” he tried to say. But it came out as: “Whoz... me, bruh?”

More moans. More warped vowels. Then, speech came back, but not his speech. It was brash. Lazy. Confident in a way Jonathan never was.

“Man, this place’s hot as hell... anyone wanna get wrecked?” he muttered with a sudden drawl, voice deeper, heavier, touched by something feral.

Inside, Jonathan wailed. He felt every word, every strange flex of his mouth, and knew it wasn’t him. It was someone new, something new, layered over him like a mask welded to bone.

Mister Alaric smiled, continuing his adjustments, seemingly unaffected. “Sexual drive boosted. Hormonal aggression elevated. Personality reinforced with dominant behavioral schema. Low inhibition. Constant desire trigger: gay sex only. Additional language implants: bartending knowledge and service culture.”

A rush of knowledge poured in Jonathan’s brain, sharp and unearned. His fingers curled as if recalling actions from a hundred rehearsals. He knew drinks now, how to make them, serve them, flair-spin a shaker in one hand while flirting through a wink.

Deep inside the shell that his body got turned into, Jonathan, still fully aware, begged for someone to help him. But mister Alaric wasn't done. He raised his hand one last time, and a golden lock appeared above Jonathan’s digital double in Alaric’s lenses. He took a look at the men sitting in front of him. His sweaty tattooed body, his tight harness, his huge feet enclosed in used converses, his thick veiny cock pulsing against his hairy thigh under his used pair of jeans. For the first time, mister Alaric smiled fully as he double clicks on the digital golden lock, saving the changes on Jonathan’s body and behavior before clicking on the name above the double and renaming it: Jax. Jonathan felt like all the oxygen in his lungs left his body while drowning in a sea of new sensations. He tried to scream again, to ask for help. But no matter how hard he tried; no sound came out of his mouth. He was trapped inside his own modified body and couldn’t do anything about it.

Mister Alaric gave a satisfied hum as he got closer to his creation. “There. Lock engaged. You’ll still be aware, of course. What would be the point of paying me back if you don’t even remember what you did wrong in the first place! Don’t worry. You won’t die working for me. I’ll just have to modify you a couple of times to make sure you stay attractive to my clients.”

Jonathan’s scream never reached his lips. It only echoed inside the void of his locked consciousness. He begged, pleaded, cursed. But the moment the renter pulled the glasses from his nose and tucked them into his coat, Jonathan’s voice was gone from his ears.

All that stood before him now was the new persona: Jax. Grinning. Cocky. Ready.

Mister Alaric stepped back and sat back on his velvet couch as he called for his two bodyguards to come back in the room. “Cut his bonds. Jax here has a long shift to start with.”

Jax flexed his arms unconsciously as the take got cut, his tattoos rippling across his skin like brands of identity. His mouth hung open with a lazy grin, tongue rolling slightly as he adjusted the harness. “So, boss... you want me to shake or stir tonight?” he said with a wink, his voice thick with flirt and swagger.

Jonathan could only scream in shame and pleasure as Jax grabbed his dick through his jeans and let a torrent of precum soak the front pouch.

Three Months Later

“Profits are up twenty-seven percent,” said one of mister Alaric associates, a wiry man in a crimson vest. He leaned against the bar, watching Jax spin a bottle behind his back, still wearing the same outfit he was programmed with. “Client satisfaction’s off the charts. He’s our top performer by far. At this rate, he’ll have his debt cleared in about 24 years, assuming everything keeps running smoothly and he keeps on being tipped so good.”

Mister Alaric chuckled, sipping his favorite brand of whisky from the private lounge above. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. And look at him. We sign a contract for a period of time. I don’t want him to struggle in the streets again…”

Below both of them, Jax laughed, flexing his arms for a pair of eager tourists. The tattoos on his pecs glowed faintly in the shifting lights.

“Gotta stay pumped for the next round,” he said aloud to no one in particular, grinning. “Can’t let Daddy down, right?”

A customer near the end of the bar raised their hand and called out, “Hey Jax! Pour me an Easter Jack!”

Jax turned, licking his lips with a hungry smile. “You got it, stud. Hope you're ready to find out what’s in the basket after my shift.” He said grabbing his thick dick through his jeans. “There you go Daddy, you’ll be happy to know I put some extra homemade proteins in this one!”

Inside, Jonathan was still trapped and disgusted by his new reality, counting the days and trying not to go mad. He was getting whored out every night multiple times per shift to earn his tips. Only 86 more years to go. He can do it. He had to.

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Hey guys!

I've got a new story for you, inspired by a great conversation I had a little while ago with my friend @tf-vigilante.

Hope you enjoy it!

As always, feel free to drop me a message or DM if you’ve got any ideas. I love chatting with you all.

See you soon!

#male transformation #my writing #tf #mental change #gay #male tf #reality change #personality change #digitized #digitization #nerd to hunk #nerd to jock #jockification #jock tf #dumbification #dumber tf #dumb tf #smart to dumb #dumber

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axeeglitter · 2 months ago

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Sensius Prequel: A question of Timing

Isaac was a 23-year-old college student, struggling to balance his studies in civil engineering and architecture while working the night shift at Sensius Corp. He was tall, standing at 1.72 meters, he had a pretty basic build. Some people would describe him as “Mister Everyone”, which he hated. For him it meant he was drowned in the mass of people and no one really cared enough to know him and recognize him in an ocean of individualities. His short dark hair often stuck to his forehead from sweat, and his tired brown eyes carried the weight of countless sleepless nights. The cheap uniform he wore was always wrinkled, stained with cleaning chemicals, and reeked of the sterile, artificial scent of the research facility while his face was itching from all the chemicals vapors. So much in fact that he stopped shaving more then once a week to try and ease the pain of the razor blades on his sensitive skin.

He hated this job. It was demeaning, exhausting, and barely paid enough to cover his tuition and the mountain of debt looming over him. Every night, as he trudged through the sterile halls, he fantasized about quitting, about finding something better. But what choice did he have? Without this, his education would be out of reach, and with it, his dream of becoming an architect would too. But the truth is, his grades were not the best either and if he missed one more class he would be suspended and terminated. Isaac spent so much time working to try to pay for his studies that he didn’t have the time needed to study properly. And without any close family or girlfriend that could help him, he knew this situation was a mountain to climb barehanded.

Tonight was supposed to be like any other shift. He had his earbuds in, music drowning out the monotonous routine of his cleaning duties. When he entered one of the high-security labs, he barely glanced at the glowing screens filled with images shining on the screens. Men, women, animals, trees, toys, sculpture, anatomical studies, even celebrities. He didn’t pay attention to any in particular, his sight jumping from screens to screens wondering why they needed so many pictures and why all of the screens were having a red dot on the top right corner except one with picture of a men that had a green one. Probably another high security project the scientists were working on, and even if he tried to ask what it was out of curiosity, the majority of them were horrible persons humiliating and dehumanizing him for being the cleaner of the facility.

Isaac sigh as he realized tonight was not different from last night and the night before. A group of scientists stood nearby him, looking at him up and down as they walked pass him, murmuring to each other and starting to laugh. As one of them passed by, the biggest douche of them all, he mimed to trip on a wet spot on the ground as he let go his full cup of coffee on the ground, letting it splatter all around the floor. “Oopsie. Looks like you missed one, here.” He said as he resumed his path talking back to his friend “spent the whole afternoon on this glitched out gif. Fuck that I need a beer!”.

Isaac looked at them, his eyes fuming of rage and disgust. He put his cleaning trolley in the hallway and grabbed a mop to start cleaning what this douche scientist had just done on purpose before grabbing the bean to empty it. As his hands grabbed the side of it, a weird smell raised to his nostrils. He tilted his head to check what it was only to realize in pure hock and disgust that there was a paper bag with a dog poop in it. At this exact moment, something clicked in Isaac’s mind. This work was not worth the money and the behavior of this douches. He’ll find a way to earn money, but this was his last stroke. He went to one of their desks and grabbed a letter and pen to start handwriting a resignation letter. When he was done, he went to grab his trolley and put the letter on top of it, ready to hand it as soon as he is done with his shift hoping to get the full pay for his day of work.

As he reached for his work badge to open the door, he realized it wasn’t in his pocket anymore. It must have fallen once again. He had asked thousands of times to get a new clip but they never did and Isaac was spending his time looking for it all around the facility. He turned back in the office where he finally saw it after a couple of minute sitting on the floor next the desk, he grabbed the paper. “Go to hell, morons!” Isaac said as he took a step to finally get out of this hell. For the first time for a long time, he felt a huge weight being released from his shoulders. His steps were smooth and light as a feather. Sign of destiny, his favorite music was blasting in his EarPods. Isaac was getting closer and closer to the door, his head dancing a bit to the rhythm of the music. Out of nowhere, Isaac felt the ground under his shoes becoming slippery and he fell on his ass on the ground, his working overall getting wet from the remaining water from the coffee he just mopped on the ground.

“Great,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. He got back up only to realize his work badge had flown across the room and was now sitting in one of the opened pods at the back of the room. “Perfect…” He cites as he stepped closer, bending down to grab it, but as his fingers brushed the badge, his foot slipped once again because of the water under his sole. His frame had no real weight to balance him, and in an instant, he lost his footing entirely.

His body lurched forward as he fell headfirst into the open pod.

The moment his back hit the cushioned interior, alarms blared. The lid hissed as it sealed shut, locking him inside with a metallic click. Panic surged through him as he realized he was trapped, but most importantly, the douche would have to see him in this situation, his pants wet and him being trapped and at their mercy to free him. It was already a nightmare of anticipation.

"I can’t believe it! Why the universe is fucking against me!! What have I done to deserve this FUCKING treatment!! " He shouted, scrambling against the smooth interior as he tried to grabbed the sides of the lid and maybe force it to open, but nothing moved. Out of nowhere, a low humming started to be heard in the pod as lights started to flick on above his head and around him, shining through the blueish silicone.

SUBJECT DETECTED. INITIATING SCAN.

Mechanical restraints shot out of the sides, clamping around his wrists and ankles and securing him in place, forcing his hands on the sides of his body and his ankles at the bottom of the pod, slightly opened. He thrashed, heart pounding, but the grips were too strong for him to free himself. A bright blue laser came from all sides of the pod and scanned over his body, humming softly as it mapped every inch of his terrified body. “What the fuck is that?!” He screamed as the blue laser finished to scan his toes and disappeared. “HELP!!” Isaac screamed once again not knowing that his screams were muffled to nothingness by the pod once the lid is closed.

INITIAL SCAN FINISHED. STARTING CALIBRATION.

In the blink of an eye, a searing heat washed over his trembling body as he was still trying to get free from the grips. In front of his very eyes, the pos was drowned in a warm and red light. Then, right in front of him, Isaac saw with his mouth open from incomprehension how strands of cotton started to flow in front of him like there was no gravity anymore. Then those same strands started to disintegrate into even smaller strands before vanishing in dust. Isaac tilted his head down only to realize he could now see his full arms exposed, and soon his chest and his legs too. In a couple of seconds, he was now standing naked in the pod. In front of him, his phone, his badge and his ear pods started to go through the exact same process and disappeared into vanishing dust. “Bro!! this phone was brand new… Come on, it’s not funny anymore now. What the fuck is this tech?!” Isaac stood there, butt naked and all of his belonging gone and disintegrated. The warm light disappeared as fast as she came and he could feel the return of the cold atmosphere crashing against his sensitive and exposed skin.

CALIBRATION FINISHED. ANALYZING TARGETTED SUBJECT… TARGET NOT FOUND. LOOKING FOR TARGET… TARGET NOT FOUND… LOOKING FOR TARGET… TARGET NOT FOUND… LOOKING FOR TARGET… TARGET FOUND. STARTING PROCESS.

“The fuck is this shit talking about?” exclaimed Isaac still trying to nudge himself free. Once again, Isaac writhed in the pod, his breath coming in ragged gasps as the AI’s voice echoed around him.

INITIATING STURCTURAL REACLIBATION. ENHANCING SUBJECT’S SKELETAL INTEGRITY…

A sharp, unbearable pressure seized his bones. His limbs stretched, his joints popping and cracking as if his entire body were being pulled apart. His height surged upward to a painful 196 cm, muscles spasming as his frame expanded beyond its former limits. He let out a strangled scream, his basic form rapidly thickening with dense bone and heavy sinew. His feet stretching longer and longer, toes widening as the soft skin of his soles hardened, rough callouses forming beneath them like he had spent years walking barefoot on hard surfaces. Isaac felt the cold floor under his extended hyper sensitive feet. He tired to tilt his head but he couldn't see that far becaus eof the tears of pain and sweat bluring his sight, not realizing that he went from a 39 feet size to a 48.

RECALIBRATING MUSCULAR PROPORTIONS…

“No please STOP. I don’t want this. This has to stoAAAAAAAHHHHHH” screamed Isaac one more time as his entire body ignited with pain as his atrophied muscles swelled, fibers tearing and rebuilding with impossible speed. His arms and legs ballooned with thick, powerful sinew, veins pressing against his skin as raw strength pulsed through him. His arms spasmed against his will as muscles started to pile on top of muscles, gaining years of daily gym sessions in the blink of an eye. Isaac heard a humming noise stop for a brief instant as his arms stopped to grow at a 38cm of diameter. His once-flat chest expanded outward, pectorals firming into a broad, sculpted wall of muscle. His narrow shoulders widened, traps bulging as they connected seamlessly to his thickening neck. He whimpered, the overwhelming sensation of mass multiplying across his body making him feel like he was suffocating under his own flesh.

ENHANCING DERMAL PIGMENTATION AND FOLLICULAR DENSITIES…

A deep, insidious heat spread beneath his skin as his pale complexion darkened into a deep, sun-kissed bronze. At the same time, a tingling itch crawled over every inch of his sensitive body. Isaac tried to scream for help one more time but his lungs were still burning from exhaustion after the last protocol his body went through. He gasped as thick, dark hairs erupted across his body. His armpits grew thick with dense strands of hair that escaped from the side of his new voluminous pecs and biceps. The tingling continued around his dick as the heat grew stronger and stronger. He could feel something growing under his tight tanned skin only to feel like millions of ants were biting around his dick and on his balls. Thick curly and black pubes were growing at high speed, framing perfectly his newly golden-tanned skin. The tingling continued and cascaded down his thighs and legs to die when it reached his huge thick feet still bonded by the metallic arms. Isaac was just starting to find his breath back when he realized the pod was full of a weird scent. Something musky and earthy, something feral, something full of hormones and pheromones. Isaac turned his head as he felt the heat rising in his pits only to scream in surprise when a wave of musk hit him in the nose while droplets of sweats were running from his armpits to his forearms. “The fuck!” he screamed still a bit out of breath. The scent radiated from him, far stronger and more primal than anything he had ever known. The new pheromones infused in his sweat was starting to invade his lungs and his bloodstream, but worst, he was slowly losing the odor as his body was getting used to it.

MODIFICATING VOCALS…

“Stop!! PlEasE sTo…” Isaac barely had time to process the words before his throat tightened. A searing pain burned through his vocal cords, forcing a deep, guttural groan from his lips. “aaAaaAaAAahHhHhhHHHHHHH!” His voice cracked and deepened, shifting from its usual soft and joyful pitch into something richer, huskier, dominant. Each breath came heavier, tinged with an unfamiliar growl, the simple act of speaking now weighted with an undeniable presence.

RESTRUCTURING FACIAL PROPRIETIES…

Isaac’s eyes opened and his mouth gagged when he heard what the robotic voice said in a cheerful tone. He didn’t even had time to analyze and understand what was just called as he felt his skull vibrate under his golden skin. His vision blurred and then he heard a crack. Then another one, and another one. Soon, all the little cracks combined into a cacophony of moving bones as his facial structure changed to align with the given order. His skull ached as his jawline sharpened, broadening into a striking, chiseled shape. His nose straightened, cheekbones rising into a more angular structure. His dark hair grew thicker, shaggier, framing his reshaped face. His once-youthful features morphed into something undeniably masculine and alien to his real self. Isaac’s vision continued to blur and soon all he saw was pitch black. Then a small light appeared out of his blindness. It grew bigger and stronger and soon he could once again see the whole pod and the office behind the tainted glass. He tried to move his hands to check them out but he was met once again by his restrictions only to realize slowly that his vision was modified. Clearer, more detailed. His eyes went from a light hazel with some problems due to continued screen time and not the healthiest behavior to one almost perfect. His pupils were now deep chocolaty brown, looking like a deep cup of a coffee. His lips were now also thicker and the perfect pillows to put a tender kiss. Lastly, his neck cracked as his vertebras grew thicker and slightly bigger while his Adam apple became visible and moving with every breath he took, giving him a muscled imposing neck, like a pedestal for his new godly face. Tears rolled down his manly hairless cheeks as the last of his stubborn disappeared in his skin, leaving it flawless and silky smooth.

ENHANCING ENDOCRINE SYSTEM…

“Please… Just let me… go!” said Isaac out of breath in his deep voice almost fainting into the alluring darkness of unconsciousness. But the robotic voice didn’t listen to any of his complaints, following its protocols with a cold demeanor. A sudden rush of heat surged through his core. His heartbeat thundered in his ears as a flood of hormones pumped through his bloodstream, saturating his senses with overwhelming, primal energy. His stamina skyrocketed, his body humming with newfound vitality. Isaac felt like a cold bucket of water was just thrown straight into his system as the hormones and pheromones into his system rushed faster and faster into his brain. His skin burned with an unfamiliar need, his muscles flexing instinctively as his breath grew uneven. The raw power surging through him made it impossible to think, impossible to focus on anything other than the oppressive, animalistic instincts rising in his chest.

ADAPTATING GENITAL MORPHOLOGY… FOLDER MISSING… LOOKING FOR INFORMATION… INFORMATION FOUND… ANSWER IS: 21. STARTING GENITAL MODIFICATION FROM FOUND INSTRUCTIONS…

A sharp ache radiated from his groin, deep and all-consuming. Isaac whimpered, his body convulsing as the heat pooled between his legs. A stretching, pulsing sensation overtook him, his cock swelling, reshaping into something longer, thicker, heavier. He could feel the changes happening, the added weight, the sensitivity, the sheer presence of it now utterly foreign to him. The AI gave no reprieve, his nerves alight with sensation, as if his very biology was being rewritten for something different. His balls were next as they started to grow heavier and heavier with every heartbeat of Isaac’s heart. He could feel them going lower and lower and taking his thick dick with them because of the pressure of the weight. “The fuck is that thing?!” he screamed as he felt the rush of hormones combining with the direction of his blood and he could feel an erection starting to form. He took a look only to be met with a thick 21 cm cock pulsing with blood and already leaking a copious amount of precum.

ANALIZING SUBJECT BIO-DATA… ERROR… ERROR… ERROR… SUBJECT NOT MATCHING TARGET… MODIFYING TIME FACTOR… “Wait, what does that mean? WHAT DOES THAT MEAN!” screamed Isaac in the pod waiting for an answer only to be met by silence once again. A sudden dizziness overtook him, as if time itself were unraveling within his cells. His bones trembled, skin tightening as his biological clock rewound. He gasped, his muscles tensing involuntarily as his age ticked backward: 23…22…21… 20. Hormones flooded his system anew, burning through him with the urgency of youth. A primal, all-consuming hunger ignited within him, demanding, overpowering, drowning him in a raw, visceral need he couldn’t suppress. His heartbeat thundered in his ears as a flood of hormones pumped through his bloodstream, saturating his senses with overwhelming them like if it was the very first time. His stamina skyrocketed, his body humming with newfound vitality. His skin burned with an unfamiliar need for touch, his muscles flexing instinctively as his breath grew uneven and rushed. The raw power surging through him made it impossible to think, impossible to focus on anything other than the oppressive, animalistic instincts rising in his chest.

CONVERSION COMPLETED…

Isaac panted heavily, his body still trembling from the violent forced modification he just went through that had just rebuild him. His muscles ached, his skin burned, and his mind reeled as he processed the words he had just heard from this robotic demon. For a brief instant, every sound disappeared around him. Only the faint beat of his own heart cycling through his veins. He tried to nudge himself free from the restraints and for the first time he realized he may have a chance if he gave the right amount of pressure thanks to his new enhanced physical capacities. CLING. His left hand managed to free itself as he tried to free his other hand and with some more try, he succeeded in that. “Finally!” he said in his deep voice as he turned his head. “Now, the ankles ones!” Isaac slid as much as he could to the ground and his rough hands finally met with the cold metal around his ankles. He ice-cold texture almost gave him a spark of static.

PHYSICAL MODIFICATIONS DONE. STARTING DIGITIZATION PROTOCOL… “What?! What are you talking about?!” he screamed out of his enhanced lungs still not used to his new deep voice.

A new set of laser beams flickered to life, scanning every inch of his naked, trembling form. He tried one more time to free his ankles only to realize those restraints wouldn’t move at all. He jumped back up and started to bang on the glass lid hoping that it would break or maybe someone would hear him. A new kind of heat built around him, different from before, less physical, more static. A loud humming sound was getting louder and louder like if something was charging power. “HELP ME!!” Isaac screamed one more time when suddenly a big white light engulfing all the roof of the pod turned on and then light consumed the pod.

Isaac screamed as the blinding light consumed him. His body felt like it was unraveling, every cell pulled apart, stretched into nothingness. The world around him blurred as his consciousness fractured, breaking into scattered data streams. He was being reduced, converted into something far less than human.

He tried to cry out, but his voice faltered, lost in the static. His arms, his legs, he couldn’t feel them. His torso, his head, everything was dissolving. The last thing he saw before the pod emptied was his own fingers vanishing into shimmering dust.

The humming stopped and no more screams were heard.

Isaac’s senses flickered back into existence, but nothing was right. He wasn’t in the pod anymore. He wasn’t anywhere. He was floating in darkness, naked and still awfully sentient and sensitive like all his nervous system was in overdrive. The energies around him felt odd too, like if the tissue of reality was similar but not identical. Like if the electricity was now rushing through his veins instead of blood.

He turned his head only to realize he could see all around him at the same time. Then, he started to see flickering blue light rushing down on him, swallowing him. More and more appeared and threw themselves at him, merging together, reforming a body for his soul to be trapped in. All around him, he could see more and more pixels appearing and merging together, but not directly on him this time, it was like portraits appearing in a gallery. Picture of men with golden skin, black hair, muscled body. All the same. All very different from his original body but at the same time so familiar. His newly altered form was in the center of it all. He tried to take a look but his body was frozen in a T pose as the last pixels merged with his new body.

A new blank window appeared before him. Casting a white warm light on his naked frame. His sculpted arms, his thick chest, his sharpened jawline, his dark, wild hair, it all felt like a relieving source of warm. He tried to move and realize he gained controlled back over his finger, then his toes, soon he was flexing his arm and for the first time for a long time, he could finally take a look at his new rough and calloused hands. He tried to take a walk but his body was still floating and had no support to take a step on. “Hello, is there someone?!” he screamed only to hear it echoing back around and coming back to his own ears. “Of course, it’s empty. Where the heck am I?” he asked to no one in particular as he tried to think of a way out. In front of him, the white window started to hum to the rhythm of an accelerating beat. Isaac didn’t realize it at first but then he felt it, the wind on his skin, an aspiring wind rushing him in the window. “The fuck is that now?” He said as the wind got ten times stronger in the blink of an eye. He felt his body getting swallowed inside the frame. Suddenly, he could feel a ground under his feet, he could feel the air around his skin, he could feel the gravity grounding him in the white ground around him. In front of him now was a black window opened on the other frames and pictures of the men. He could clearly see now that this were all pictures of the same men, smiling, flexing. It all looked like a reference sheet. Isaac took a step closer to the black window and tried to grab the borders to jump out but he couldn’t. An invisible shiny glass like material was forbidding him to do so. For the second time today, he was trapped. He got closer only to see someone walking in his direction. Not someone, his reflection shining perfectly clear and looking straight back at him. His new face and body. His new reality. That’s when he realized he already saw that face somewhere. His vision unfocused only to be met with the same reflection way further in another frame, and another one, and another one. In 21 frames looking back at him. Isaac’s heart jumped a beat as he realized he got transformed into these men looking a stereotype of a muscled douchebag. “No..” he gagged on his own condition as his rough hands brushed his hairless cheeks, taking in consideration what he just became. To worsen it all, his dick was still painfully erect and sensitively leaking precum glitching away as it touched the ground under his feet.

The AI’s voice droned back on.

PROCESS COMPLETED. ASSIGNING NEW ROUTINE PROTOCOLS…

A force gripped him to a molecular level. Nothing painful but something deeply anchored inside his bones, like if he couldn’t control his body anymore, like if someone was forcing moves on him. Like a puppet on a string. It pulled his body into position. His arms flexed, chest tightening, lips curled into an opened position. He hadn’t done that; he hadn’t moved, he couldn’t move.

RENDERING ANIMATION SEQUENCE…

His body jerked as a wave of statics rushed in the frame, he was posed in. All around him a dirty ground materialize, with dead leaves on it, sticks and rocks. Then from it, a deep forest grew in the blink of an eye. The static rushed into his body as he saw pixels appear around his legs. A pair of kaki cargo pants appeared and a pair of loose grey underwear. His hard and leaky cock was forced against his leg as his sensitive cockhead spasmed against his hairy thighs. His hands grabbed the sides of his pants fly as a circle tattoo appeared on his right biceps. A new wave of static and his body began to move. He flexed, his biceps bulging, his pecs twitching with each motion. His face turned slightly, as his hands opened the fly and were about to get his pants off. But in a glitchy move, his fly was back up again and his hands were grabbing it again. And again, and again.

It didn’t stop. He tried to fight it, but there was no escape. His body looped through the same movements, the same flex, the same face, over and over again. “The hell is this?! Someone stops that, please!! And this fucking cock sliding against my leg!! This is hell. It’s too sensitive!!”. His mouth was moving, but no sound was getting out from the frame, nothing was coming out of the frame.

He could feel it all. The heat of his skin, the slight flex of his muscles, the oppressive need still lingering from his forced hormonal changes. His new, sensitive flesh rubbed against itself, his thighs brushing together in ways that sent maddening signals through his nerves. His body wanted release, but it would never come. He was stuck in this loop, an eternal display of masculine perfection with no agency, no control, no escape.

CALIBRATION DONE: JACOB BLACK. WAITING FOR NEW SUBJECT.

Isaac heard one last time the robotic voice as he was still repeating the same movement of trying to undress on loop. In the lab, the lid of the pod opened back as steam rushed out on the now dry ground. His cleaning trolley with the letter still waiting in the hallway in front of the door.

The next morning, the scientists returned to the lab, sipping coffee and chatting casually as they resumed their work. “Looks like another one resigned!” said the cocky scientist as he entered the room, the demission letter in his hands. “I knew this one wouldn’t stay here too long, he didn’t have what this place need!” “I’ll just go and give it to Dr Lee, see you in a couple of minutes guys!” he said as he grabbed the trolley on his way to put it in the closet. The empty pod sat in the corner, unnoticed, its last occupant erased from existence. “Let’s see… Where were we. Damn looks like my reference gif is finally working!” he said as he sat at his desk. “Told you bro, it was just glitching for a bit. Sometimes you got to give them time to do their own magic to solve problems” “You are right Mike, sorry...”

Isaac stood there, watching as he saw the men in front of him talking with his friend. He could hear everything, but he couldn’t free himself from this prison. He tried to scream for help but no sound was heard, sound is not coded inside a gif file… No one noticed the desperation hidden behind those dark, digital eyes, pleading for someone to free him or at least let him release the cum building up in his nuts, waiting on an orgasm for eternity.

Isaac was gone, only Jacob Black remained.

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Hey everyone!

I’ve got a fun prequel I wrote for @reddarkfox222 based on my Sensius project! He asked for a story based on Jacob Black, hope you'll enjoy it! In this new chapter, you’ll get a deeper look into how the preparations for the Sensius project come together to make everything work. It’s a peek behind the curtain!

I’m always happy to chat, so feel free to DM me anytime if you have ideas or just want to talk. Can’t wait to hear from you all!

Catch you soon! :D

#male transformation #my writing #tf #mental change #gay #male tf #reality change #personality change #ask me anything #sensius #sensius project #Jacob Black #digital tf #digitized #digitization #jockification #jock tf #nerd to hunk #nerd to jock

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