#lib to cons

[sjw-publishings]

Straight A-Tension

With much guidance from the lovely @dumb-and-jocked , and influence from his story: Over here ;)

“Hey babe, promise me that after this…we will enjoy our vacation together.”

“I…I promise love, I just have to do a few more errands just to make sure.”

That conversation happened at 9pm yesterday in evening.

12:14pm, Today. Keith Gaye was supposed to meet up with his boyfriend at this very spot a quarter past noon, outside the auditorium hours before the crowd gathers for an announcement later in the day.

Of course, this would be the first time he would be talking to his boyfriend for the day. Since his lover was out and about already before he was awake, serious in completing his mission in digging up info on camp.

But even so…generally William would text him frequently while doing his undercover work. Yet despite his warm wishes and greetings, the other man went radio silent throughout the day.

“Ugh…babe where are you?”

The 25 year old long haired, lean surfer rubbed his shoulders, pushing back his blonde locks as he eyed his phone for a message from his love.

He just wanted a relaxing vacation for him and his lover. Which was why the both of them agreed on the trip to the camp retreat. With supposedly no authoritarian figures, No sticky-hard rules, and just the soft cool breeze of relaxation.

Sure…some of it was mostly fluff with the forced curfews they have on everyone, and the oddly sudden influx of ‘Hyper-Heterosexuality charged Christian Asians’ as his boyfriend describes…but perhaps there is an organised field trip for this time of the month?

And besides, its rude to assume they are all straight, maybe those men are in the closet?

Yet despite his intentions of reassuring his boyfriend and telling him, William was really insistent on uncovering the truth behind possible propaganda and the disappearances of some gay folks and couples around campus…and with his unnaturally long silence today.

What if he was right?

BEEP!

Boy friend [12:15pm]: Completed my preparations my latest speech for later. Please let me know your thoughts. Regards.

A notification popped up at the top of his phone. Fingers immediately pressing on it without delay, opening up the unused social media app he had downloaded many days prior, transporting his screen to the message and communication between him and his boy friend, William Wagner.

…

Mr Wallace Wong, Professor at Christening University.

Shaking his head, as he blinked his eyes rapidly at the name at the top of the message list. Keith felt cold sweat forming on his sun-kissed tanned skin, floral shirt lining with light moisture from the heat as he stood crossed legged in his sandals and board shorts..

Mr Wallace Wong? S…Surely it must be some phone glitch, though its not surprising since as Humblr is still a relatively new app. Though it still felt odd that it appeared out of the blue very recently.

Not to mention how his older boy friend would prefer him to use other kinds of social media to communicate…no that’s not right. His older mentor would refuse to use those kinds of ‘strange applications’ due to them not promoting HIS diversity…No wait. It was the school’s motto of diversity, that was what it was all about with that teach!

“So not diverse….”

The surfer scowled, rolling his eyes as he remembered the old fashioned professor and his continual lectures towards him ever since he stepped foot on campus.

He wanted to set off and find a cute twink to date, but every time the teacher would stop his ‘FOOLING AROUND’ and drag the other man away to detention. All he wanted was just to relax with a cute guy ! He could’ve sworn he had one, but clearly with the professor sticking to him like glue…that proved otherwise.

Whatever, today was the last day that old fossil hounded him on his vacation. No more ‘youngsters and their social media apps!’ when he himself is using Humblr like his ‘Straight A sons’ as he so proudly boasts all day.

He might as well humour the older male for once, tapping on the video sent below the overly professional message.

[Video processing]

As the video began to load, he was greeted by a auto-generated Half-Body thumbnail of the Professor. Presumably seated on a low-rising chair with his hand clasped on a table in front. Blank White background behind him, removing any other distractions to someone else.

It looked like one of those adverts from VideoTube, where a stereotypical asian tries to sell him something, make a dad joke, or promote the ‘brand new family-oriented social media app, Humblr!’

Which was not surprising, considering the nature of the professor…though he had to admit, he hadn’t had a good look at the man. Especially without his suit jacket, an above average build…straining against his white plain buttoned down tee, but without his usual necktie.

Carbon copy to many other teachers and church-going students of his kind, yet with tight, strong…strapping strong muscles. With a fierce forceful jawline to accommodate his harsh, remorseless tactics.

Complimenting his neatly trimmed and gently gelled cut in every year book, alongside those professionally prescribed spectacles over his dangerously thin lenses, a visage of an authoritarian man in complete control.

Keith generally topped…but dude, for some reason his pouch is really disagreeing with his previous biases and hatred towards the married man, how did he not realise how good-looking this bastard was?

Drool escaping his lips, as he starred blankly at the thumbnail of the prof, the small buffering spiral of circles glueing him to the screen. Left hand holding the phone, the right began churning his not so relaxed pouch, as fainter, subtile sentences flashed across the screen.

Activating School’s Hetwork…

Turning On RedTooth signals…

Accepting Admin position…

Keith didn’t understood what any of that meant, neither did he notice a certain wall mounted, television monitor turning by itself.

Hovering above eye level in front of him, as it began to buffer the same screen on his phone, before his mobile device goes completely blank, except the following words.

[Please direct your attention to the monitor above]

“Straight”

A single word, echoing from the speakers.

Straight…looking straight into the monitor. The professor in a much larger screen. His back straight as ever, as if it refused to be hunched in order to maintain its clean-cut.

Just a single word…already causing Keith’s chill-rod to POKE violently. Such boring, unsexy nerdy tension…getting this surfer dude all fiery down below.

He had no idea how this professor has such a hold on him…how he keeps coming back to him…How he physically and subconsciously listens to his suggestions, rolling his shoulders back out of a hunch, straightening his back as much as a gay man.

A lot of ‘straight’ tension poking out, wanting to get in bed with him so badly, but he was just barely out of the closet…after all the teacher always demanded things straight out of him…

Wait a sec…Wasn’t he out of-

“A-TENSION!”

A heavy bark sounded all around him, drilling into his ears from the speakers above as like a proud military man on duty. Like a direct command, eyes instinctively darting to the television hovering above. Left hand was raised into a salute, immediately dropping his phone…which fell to the ground.

He didn’t know why he obeyed the order so suddenly, much less from the incredibly hot man that he hate-admired so much!

“Men, with your level of qualifications you have been selected to be a part of our disciplinarian program.”

Disciplinarian program?

Wait…! He didn’t sign up for this! Sure he may have had extremely conflicted feelings for the older male…ever since he saw him in college? But No…that was not right, what does a lean chill surfer like him have to do in college?

But then again, he hadn’t surfed in forever, his very faint tan. Sure he was much older than most folks at the age of 27. But he had to focus on his scholarship…Adjusting his light blue short-sleeved buttoned down below and beige khakis, shifting about in his loafers as he remembered getting that, scholarship, but only a single one!

He had still worked out, but with less time he had to be efficient and dive in his studies. Though oddly enough, he his muscles were generally far more relaxed than how tense they are now. Nice buildup though over the years.

Overall he tried to keep his cool despite everything, but he had to admit…he did appreciate the tough love from his teachers and pushed on, securing his spot, though just barely.

Perhaps that was why they eventually introduced him to Mr Wong? Who recommended that he should be part of the program?

“Life’s full of collaboration with our fellow brothers, but with a little competition to incite our nature to do better…”

He had to admit, it felt good overtaking his entire class without fail. Yes he might be ‘cool’ at times, but he was a complete monster at his studies.

He a scholarship to maintain, a single aka Uni one…wait Uni? Yeah he graduated from University after all! Aced his scholarship without fail, full on focused and graduated at the age of 29.

Though it did feel odd why he finished school so late, he did have the results to show for it. Especially on his arms which really looked good despite his plain white long-sleeved buttoned down.

His figure definitely looked good at the end of all of it. And if he could unravel the dark grey dress pants he was wearing, most certainly a bunch of bachelors would ogle him as a result…despite the rules on campus.

Campus…oh right. Camp Christening was incredibly strict in its rules towards their students, though most of it are written in between the lines.

Perhaps this is why he wanted to participate in the program? He wanted to respect that, as dull tones of subordination rang from his polished dress shoes.

Especially with how the interview went with Mr Wong…and how much potential he saw from him despite still being a little…Queer in the edges.

Maybe it is out of familiarity…but how similar the discipline master was to the teachers’ who have changed his life is making him with to edge more!

He should felt rage the man for being overly homophobic and his jobs on how he was only a quarter Chinese…but for some reason, he doesn’t dislike the male…but rather-

“And while it is of the norm, ordinarily so to only best each other by a small margin, it nevertheless is the driving force to ensure we always remain on TOP!”

He wanted to beat the man at his own game! The 32 year old studied overtime despite his education and work in order to ensure he would eventually overtake the male.

It was in his blood after all, he was half Chinese. With a darker hair colour, a naturally tanned ethnicity and thinner eyes, it was clear that he had other stuff in his blood.

Which was why he was raised overseas, in order to adopt the culture from his grandparents yeah…the Straight A mentality passed down from generations.

And he absolutely thrived in it.

Excelling in his grades without fail, little to no distractions as he simply focused on being the TOP of his kind. Raised in such a competitive yet thriving environment, it wasn’t surprising that a man such as himself eventually followed and adopted the behaviours and culture of the men around him.

Their deceptively casual yet serious lingo, their various festivals and rules to abide by. Being a permanent resident, it was a necessity to do so, to behave like them! And especially the physical trainings of some men, and their utmost dedication to serve their country…HIS country.

“Of course, for the lucky few of you, you will join our ranks as someone of authority, just like the rest of us.”

Mr Keith smirked. Having an incredible sense of pride in his dark grey suit jacket, having succeeded in his application in becoming an educator in Camp Christening despite being a foreigner in the country.

But with how inclusive they are to asians as a whole, it was no surprise that he had succeeded in the interview. Sure the school had some policies that were a little more straight-laced, but it was nothing compared to how much it made him feel at home.

“The camp so good ah…amen.”

Though speaking of camps, it did not make sense why he had such long hair. Having serviced in his country’s military for a couple of years meant he would have to CUT it short, which is why he had shorter hair way above his neck…and having these long hair extensions on his buttoned down

Though that being said, why were they there, it felt really inappropriate for a 33 year old man such as himself. While still churning below with his right, Mr Keith released his left hand momentarily from the salute.

Being part of the teachers disciplining community meant that he had to know when to take responsibility for something out of line. As he adjusted the dark strands underneath his thicker collar, pulling it without remorse as they firmly settled into a simple sleek tie.

Likewise, he gave a few quick tugs on the area around his trim waist, before giving his rump a big-

SMACK!

As the traditional leather belt solidified around his waist. Tightening alongside his exit, for he remained on TOP and not the bottom…even during moments where he bent over and received due discipline…

It felt good, an Asian man looking like a traditional husband of the family. Sure it was quite a ‘backwards mentality’ to have all that pride and arrogance over some old fashioned values from the early past…

That people dont appreciate because they feel like its not worth appreciating. Yeah, the younger generations just simply try to force their values on traditionalists such as himself!

What utter disrespect!

They’ve simply been brainwashed by society! They are the backwards ones! Not understanding the values of going to church, being A MAN, a good self-DISCIPLINE to set an example for others.

And yes, they pointed out he might be a little taller, which might be a burden…but its nothing he can’t handle-

“Regardless, all of you will conform to our camp values and not stand out…”

Mr Keith absolutely hated how tall he was at 6ft 2, no wonder Wallace picked on him so much! But then again, it must be those new shoes he wore, he definitely was just only a few centimetres above the professor..wait no, actually he was just tip-toeing trying to scold a couple of backsliding idiots just beyond the a fence!

In reality, he was just barely a 5ft 11!

His height may be considered much taller compared to most asians. But he is within the world’s average! Besides, between him and Wallace, it is clear which of the two of them is more grounded…even if there’s a slight margin of difference between them.

“Stand up STRAIGHT!”

Speaking of differences, they were rather similar weren’t they? They were both STRAIGHT-laced authoritative men after all!

Even that student Percy Sim remarked on that and called him Mr Wong once…oh lordy, was his rump covered in red hand prints from his disciplinary spanks.

“Its Mr Kei…ang! I look like Wallace to you isit?”

Comments such as… ‘But you two share so many of the same ideas!’ And ‘Yeah Prof, you guys are basically a match made in heaven!’ Was that man trying to fail his class?!

Unacceptable!

Just because Mr. Wong and himself share similar traits, values, ideas, viewpoints, traditions, disciplines, and structures does not mean they are at all alike!

He ought to have a word with his father later…the man ought to instil more DISCIPLINE in the his son!

“Men really need not to fool around in this day and age! I swear-!”

In the HEAT of the moment thinking about discipline, one upping the other asians and potential fatherhood, he SLAMMED his fist down on the table, the force knocking over the bottles.

“OI BEHAVE!”

Can’t let distractions distract him from his duty, not when his mentor is watching him!

Matured, responsible hands hurriedly scooping up the bottles that fell on the ground. Bending over, bigger and thicker thighs rubbing against the everyday clean-cut fabric of his pants, sending the engaged man over the edge.

Doubling down his sense of duty as aged authoritarian palms SLAMMED each bottle in order on the banquet table.

All except one, gripping it tighter than ever.

“Quench your thirst, brothers…”

“Wah…stop teasing me-testing me sio!”

He had to muster his courage…muster his…master…Masters in discipline! It was simply part of the program and regimen!

Churning his compact, father-hood now with his right as he unzipped his package below. Holding the bottle on the left while he fished out his prized rifle down below.

To know when to abstain…and when to multiply.

Cupping his long weapon, compacting it with a firm fatherly GRIP! Mandarin oranges below swelled in experience, complimenting his rod of average length yet prominent girth. Their prominent hardness tells him only one thing.

This is when he has to multiply…

“With thoughts of your lovely wife.”

“Walao Ehh!!!”

Lovely wife? A husband? HIM? Wasn’t he g…GHEY? HEY! NO WAY! He was straight! No wonder he followed those rules flawless, he was one of them! One with his kind!

Shoulders APART! His broad chest and back filling out his suit like a real Patriarch. Thick and prominent neck built for loud shouts and disciplinary commands across campus!

It was the way it was expected from a traditional man like him! Which was no surprise that equally conservative women liked it! A Man that can produce REAL discipline, especially in the bedroom.

But that being said, that didn’t mean the 38 year old Mr Kei-ang was married! Sure he was looking for a g…J…Janet, and loved that random chi…his lovely girlfriend. He wanted to BE a husband. HER HUSBAND! Which is why he had a ring on his ring digit!

LIKE HIS WIFE’S!

He…HE IS A HUSBAND! Her husband! Marrying her with her all those years back! It was a big deal for the whole family! A fellow patriarch and matriarch getting together in holy matrimony, and not to mention the incredible time they had in bed…full of disciplinary action…especially towards him.

“Ohhh lordy…”

“Remember our logo, brethren…as you complete your fellowship.”

“A…A-MEN!”

His nostrils flared, yet properly angular as his ordinarily good-looks remained unscarred. Unpierced smaller, average sized ear-lobes cause What? He gay isit? Only women do that! Refusing any semblance of understanding as to why would some men do that!

He understands Asian-diversity…but It contradicts his traditional beliefs! With that, retreating back to his skull were lengths and lengths of overly long hair, leaving the sides and back shaved and the top a simple side cut like his fellow educators. Simple, strict and orderly! The way he always presented himself, the way the board of education demands of him, the way him and his wife likes it!

Eyes barely widening, glued to his narrow minded views as he stuck to the broadcast with proper arrogance..licking his thin lips, rising to a malevolent surrounded by aftershave of a manly jaw. Reserved for scolding of asian-kind…and the kissing of his dear ol wife.

Taking a deep breath alongside the recording of Wallace, ready to HUFF N PUFF AND-

“SHOUT OUR SLOGAN MEN, STRAIGHT-.”

“A-TENSION!”

Mr Gareth Kang, the Singaporean disciplinary master came at full force, firing his throbbing rifle without restraint, setting loose thick wads of goo deep into the empty bottle without reservation.

Giving a few quick whacks to his fatherhood, he stuffed his shorter, thicker member back in suit pants and zipped it up. Dusting his jacket as glared around suspiciously, giving his bottle a good firm SHAKE! Before sliding in his bottle with the rest of the unfinished batch.

He’d make a gentle reminder to his juniors to fill up the rest of the ‘non-bubbling’ ones, as he smirkingly eyed his noble prized solution hidden within the batch, looking forward to meeting the lucky fellow that joins his fellow disciplinary masters in due time.

But for now…he has a very special, yet short meetup with his supervisor, as the slightly older man arrived on the dot of the hour.

“Wah…good speech Wallace.”

“Hmph don’t patronise me Gareth, you know its simply a textbook order for our future recruits to behave.”

And indeed it was, clean-cut and straight to the point, the kind of standard the 41 year old lives and breathes by.

They needed to hire people whose both an expert enforcers in disciplinary measures, yet knows how to live by those standards he himself sets. Which was no surprise Mr Gareth Kang, former army sergeant and 10 year disciplinarian, became part of the team.

With completely no-nonsense approach, feared and respected by colleagues and students alike. It was all part of his training, to discipline others the way he would like to be disciplined.

Even towards his superior, who expected nothing less from him.

“Sure sure Wallace, almost Late, video sent 12:15pm.”

“Incorrect, I have already sent you a copy of my preliminary speech, an hour earlier.”

Wallace pointed to the mobile device on the ground.

While Gareth did use a laptop, he saw no point in having a modern phone when his Brick one had been fine for centuries. It was such a waste of money! His older model could be thrown without cracking!

He only had this new phone due to the school’s insistence of giving him one. It was supposedly an older model, but still felt too new for his tastes. Not to mention how easily its screen cracked after a single throw at a rebellious student…

Sliding open the phone, now clearly seeing the red notification in his email, next to the Humblr and Calculator App. Strange, He could’ve sworn some fool downloaded many more useless applications prior, clouding the entire screen.

He just might have to question his sons about it…but regardless, as Mr Wong mentioned opening the app, was the video.

“As your supervisor, I thought you might have wanted to inspect it much sooner…being my RIGHT-hand man.”

Mr Gareth Kang smirked.

Indeed, they might have a heated rivalry, but they were both men. Brothers in arms and in the church. Colleagues who are extremely close and identical in terms of methods, teachings and background.

Which was no surprise that they easily figured out what makes the other reach maximum productivity, as they continued to aid one another through the most simplest of gestures.

Even a no-nonsense man like him felt that it was endearing.

“Wah, so kind of you!”

“Respect your elders, Gareth, a considerable distance in public.”

“Of Course, Wallace.”

Moving away from his superior. They were only a year apart, but he understood and respected the fella despite their un-spoken rivalry.

That being said, a man like him definitely knows how to subtly skirt the rules to his advantage, just like how he got with his wife.

Knowing how to get under the everyone’s skin! Both literally and figuratively. Every member of the Kang family had their expertise, and discipline was his. That was his calling, and why people kept calling him for his duties.

“Thought you sent it to a different Mr Kang...”

“Hmph…A Man like me wouldn’t be so careless to leak out confidential information!”

Bickering, comparing their fruitful endeavours throughout the morning with utter aggression mixed with respect. It was another routine between the two men, as their heated discussion trailed onto their commitments, their utmost dedication to their students, sunday gatherings, and how great their wives and family are.

Neither of them would admit it, but the two of them were essentially the same.

Knowing how to really appreciate the most ordinary of things while enforcing strict discipline in maintaining the generational tradition.

Indeed, which is why they always riled the other up, keeping the other scoffing beneath their attire without mercy as they selfishly withheld their A-MEN card in every topic, threading between the thin lines of respect and competition.

Arguing despite seeing eye to eye with the other, just so they will have a private game of pure straights…

“Mahjong, this Saturday weekend, in the teacher’s lounge.”

“Make it evening, Janet and the kids are visiting the grandparents in the morning.”

The two men shake hands vigorously, professional…yet with utmost fire as they smirked at each other cunningly, seeing eye to eye in their respective mirrors. Ready to one up the other without fault.

Unlike some of his more outgoing colleagues of other tribes, Mr Kang intends on pulling no stops to his fiercest rival in the workplace, something…while silent, is simply what both of them desire from the other.

A fierce authoritarian battle, between two asian men.

Releasing their firm handshake, they parted their ways, walking in opposite directions. They have their own respective tasks before the announcement later, being the main two authorities in charge of it.

There is much more discipline to be done, a bunch of students to be yelled at and ordered to be in attendance at the auditorium, and many more bottles to be prepared.

Why were there so little bottles prepared ah? He ought to cane the fella who he put in charge of this…give him a good whack behind…wait! Whacking! Wah…He almost forgot!

“Oi!”

Calling out to his authoritarian in crime, he had remembered that he had left the most important thing back in their previous venue!

Punishment for insubordination in losing the mahjong game…and a necessary tool in order to ensure maximum production and discipline for their cause.

Whipping men into shape, something neither got tired off regardless of whether they are on the giving, or receiving end. In which both Mr Gareth Kang and Mr Wallace Wong would be more than happy to give at a moment’s notice.

After all, a man can only enforce as much as he receives…

“Bring the belts Ah!”

[devonpink]

Empty Head, Happy Bro.

When the red cap goes on, the ignorant toxic douche bro comes out. All thought and liberalism melt into his massive nuts, leaving him with nothing but brain-dead conservatism. Letting go and sinking deep down into the red echo chamber of cocky self-indulgence feels so good, so hard to resist. It feels so good to show off and gloat like a massive tool, making his fat cock throb. He only wants to go deeper and get stupider. The red cap feels so fucking good, bro.

[derekhighwaytf]

Welcome to the Team, Bro

TW: Misogyny, Homophobia

Your twenty-first birthday had been going absolutely perfect. Of course, you’d surrounded yourself with all your closest friends, all girls, obvi.  Drunk off cheap grocery store champagne being sipped out of red solo cups, you all continued laughing and enjoying your annual birthday roast, regardless of how uncomfortable everyone was stuffed onto your small college apartment couch. It was all in the name of light-hearted fun—typical jokes about how you wear the tightest of clothes, how you seem to have retained more Sex and the City quotes than anyone else alive, and of course, your nonexistent love life with guys. The usual, nothing that cut too deep. You laughed along, leaning back in your chair, feeling comfortable and safe being with your gal pals.

But then the door swung open, and Levi, Jessica’s ultra jock boyfriend, walks in. The room goes completely silent for just a second, the atmosphere shifting rapidly. Levi, an absolute douchebro, is the kind of frat guy who dominated a space just by existing. Tall, muscular, and that same cocky grin permanently plastered on his face. He saunters into your living room like it was his own frat house.

"Hey, birthday boy!" Jessica teases, giving you a nudge. "Levi asked me if he could take a turn roasting you. He says it’s good practice for his stand-up career.  Can you please let him go up?  I promise he won’t say anything too horrible."

You blink. ‘What on earth could Levi even say?  He doesn’t even know me?!’ you think to yourself. The other girls exchanged worried glances. The guy’s not exactly known for being subtle or sensitive, but before you can protest, Levi stepped towards the middle of the room, cracking his knuckles as he sized you up.

"So this is our little birthday bitch, huh?" His voice booms, loud and commanding. He stands in front of you, creepily grinning as he looks you up and down your skinny, twinkish frame. "Man, look at you. You’re such a fucking stick. Bet you couldn’t lift up a five pound weight, even if your life depended on it. What, a gust of wind gonna blow you over, fag?"

The girls laugh sporadically, forcing a chuckle just to try and relieve the tension. But as the words leave Levi’s mouth, a hot, uncomfortable sensation ripples through your body, and out of nowhere, you feel a tightness push itself against your pale skin. You glance down and your eyes widen—your biceps are swelling, your pecs thickening themselves into two smooth mounds of man meat. Muscles you’ve never even fathomed having in your life start to form, bulging out of your once-slender frame. Your shirt strains at the seams as your chest broadens to it’s sides, your chest pushing forward until they’re massive, rock-hard slabs, rivaling the tits of your girlfriends.

"Whoa, dude... what the hell are you saying, man?" you mutter, your voice suddenly much, much deeper, almost as deep as Levi’s.

The girls gasp, their eyes widening in shock, but Levi just keeps going, pretending to be unaware of what’s happening to the poor boy.

"But you know what?" Levi grins, his tone dripping with smugness. "I bet you’re the kinda guy who’s so obsessed with looking good that you wouldn’t even know what it means to get truly dirty, huh? Probably shower three times a day, all prim and proper. Nah, man. A real dude doesn’t give a shit about smelling fresh.  Real men smell like bulls.”

As soon as he says it, a wave of heat rolls through you again. This time, it’s not just gonna stay inside yourself, no. It’s... in your gut. A thick, rumbling pressure builds up more and more inside you, and before you can stop it, a loud, wet burp escapes your mouth. 

BRRRRRRRP!!

The girls squeal in disgust, but it doesn’t stop there. A loud, long fart rips through the air, and the smell is rank—sweaty, cheese, and 100% pure man odor.

PFFFFFFFFFFTTTTT!

Your armpits start to sweat profusely, staining your rapidly shrinking tank top shirt, and the once-fresh Polo cologne you had on is completely overpowered by the raw, animal scent of your dick stink. You can feel your skin getting greasy, and when you scratch your balls—without even thinking about it—they itch more, like you haven’t showered in days and you can’t help but touch it more and more.

"Ugh, gross!" one of the girls groans, wrinkling her nose. But as she pulls away, her eyes, they…change. Like she can’t stop glancing at your new Adonis body, completely disregarding, maybe even enjoying the smell. And she’s not the only one. All your former “gal pals” are starting to shake and whisper amongst themselves, their giggles turning into flirtatious murmurs, their shirts opening up as if he thermostat had been turned up to a hundred.

Levi leans in closer, his grin growing wider. "But hey, it’s not just about the looks, right? I bet this little fucker still can’t get laid to save his life. Probably jerks off to Tumblr stories every night instead of actually getting some pussy. Pfft. Bet he couldn’t handle a real girl if he tried."

Something snaps in your formerly gold star brain. You’ve always been gay, but now, that feels... weird. Incorrect.  Immoral.  Suddenly, the thought of even just hugging another guy seems wrong, as if you were worried you could catch gayness. Your eyes flicker over to Jessica and the others, and a new heat ignites inside your groin. Your mouth waters at the sight of your friend’s curves, their massive cleavage, their clean shaven legs. You want to be inside them. You need to be.

Memories shift. Nights spent dreaming about guys and writing fanfictions about male celebrities blur and twist into hazy recollections of fucking girls—lots of girls. So many, you couldn’t even remember one of their names.  You can taste their pussies, hear their moans. Your cock twitches in your pants, straining against the fabric of your newly materialized gym shorts as you stare at the girls who used to be just your friends. Now, they’re more than that. They’re... opportunities.  Sluts, ready for the taking.

"Fuck you asshole, I get laid all the fuckin’ time," you hear yourself shout, your voice deeper, more arrogant, your words rolling out in laughter like they’ve always been true. The girls giggle, blushing and shooting you lingering glances, clearly wanting your dick in their mouths. All of them. And in the pit of your stomach, you know they’ll all be yours by the end of the night.

Levi laughs, clapping you on the back. "Now that’s more like it, stud!" He steps back, crossing his arms, admiring his work "But let’s be real, this guy just thinks far too much, huh? He’s always overanalyzing shit, worrying about dumb stuff. A real bro doesn’t waste his time thinking. Just acts. Bet this guy’s head is still full of that nerdy fag crap."

You feel a sharp, dull shot of pain go through your head like a bullet, as if half of it is being yanked out. Your vision swims around the transforming frat room of breasts, and suddenly, it’s hard to think—like there’s a deep fog settling over your brain, clouding everything, mushing it into a few simple desires. The things you once knew—your studies, your hobbies, your passions—fade away, replaced by simpler, more immediate thoughts. Working out. Fucking. Drinking beer. All the things that matter to a real man.

The last thing to go is the memory of who you used to be. That skinny, smart, gay kid? Gone. Replaced by the image of you as a dumb, horny jock, the kind of guy who lives for the gym and pussy. The kind of guy who doesn’t need to think—because he already knows he’s the shit.

You blink, grinning stupidly at Levi, feeling the last vestiges of your old self disappear. "Yo, bro, I ain’t no faggot. Hey, where the fuck’s the beer at? We gotta get shwasted, man."

The girls are all over you now, practically throwing themselves at you. And why wouldn’t they? You’re hot as fuck, and you need to dump your cum in their needy holes.  You’re gonna make these formally open-minded liberal intellectuals into perfect American mothers.

"That’s my boy," Levi laughs, handing you a beer. "Welcome to the team, bro."

[fratttymatty]

A few shorts

1

The second David put on the grey sweatpants his bulge significantly grew as well as his muscles. Shit he smelt like musk too. He was now Davis, the dumbest guy in college, the guy who only thought with his dick. He was also a massive dick, and he knew it. Oh and the girls loved it!

2

Flick was a 79 year old man going on holiday to Ibiza. He booked into his hotel called "La Joven Transformación" not knowing that anything would happen. 4 boys, Alejandro, Harry, Nicholas and Josh dragged Flick to their room and injected him with something. Flick began to decrease in age by 60 years until he was 19. It also made him extremely hot. His muscles grew and his shirt disappeared. His mind changed and remembered he was in Ibiza to party with the boys. He forgot his name was ever Flick and he believed it was Clint since forever.

"Bros! I'm so pumped for this vacay man! Gonna get some hot Spanish chicas!" He said cockily.

3

The second Craig stepped into the gym, he was sprayed with some sort of liquid which made him look like an absolute gym bro. His biceps were now huge and so was basically everything else about him, especially his ego. He was now Kyle and he took a picture of himself and uploaded it onto Instagram.

4

Thanks to Jake's help, Greg had become yet another baseball bro in the school. He ditched the name Greg and became Grayson. He turned the blue baseball hat backwards and put on the white shorts. It made his muscles grow and his sport ability increase. It also made him grow to 6 foot 4. He took a picture and sent it to his girlfriend Libby.

5

Joel was a nerdy guy in school. That was until one of the school's bad boy heartthrobs, Freddy, stuck a cigarette into Joel's mouth. Joel inhaled the smoke by accident, the smoke from the magical cigarette ran through his body. It pumped up his muscles, deepened his voice, made his hair more messy and disheveled, made him taller, made him gain a more bad boy brain. Before he knew it, he believed his name was Cole. Cole was the definition of a Tiktok bad boy. He picked up his phone and pulled out a cigarette before taking a picture and sending it to his girlfriend, Julia, captioning it with.

"You know youre rly cute right"

6

Ian was a gay guy who was also a twink. He was walking around his university until a clearly conservative guy came up to him with another man who was recording him. The conservative gay was a gay called Jackson. Jackson was an "interviewer" on Tiktok, and Ian was his next victim.

"Trump or Kamala?" Jackson asked.

"Kamala duh." Ian replied which Jackson wasn't happy about and the cameraman stopped recording.

The phone flashed in Ian's face and changed him. Ian's muscles grew, his hair grew into a mullet-ish hairstyle, his voice deepened, he grew to well over 6 foot. As well as the physical changes his mind changed too.

He gained a very VERY conservative mindset, he straightened out, and he gained lots of new opinions that his old self would find offensive and controversial. He forgot his name was Ian and now his name was Evan. Jackson looked at him and re-recorded his part.

"Trump or Kamala bro?" Jackson asked again.

"Trump dude. I ain't no sissy!" Evan replied.

7

Lila was a nerdy girl with one boy best friend, Martin, who was gay. She was at school and was studying alone in the library, then the cheerleaders came in. Polly, Viola, Hayley and Roxana were the most popular girls in school. They approached Lila and stuck a hairband on her head causing her transformation to begin. Her hair got long and blonder causing her to become ditzier. She gained an hourglass figure and developed a valley girl accent. Her face got more pretty and her lips plumped up. Her makeup became extremely sexy, as well as other parts of her body. Once it was over the cheerleaders took off the headband and then Lila gained a new name, Mia. She threw her books away and ran to the field with the other girls. She couldn't wait for Martin to change.

"Eeeekk! I'm like, totes excited to be a cheerleader. Can we like, change Martin too hehe?!" Mia says in a valley accent using her newly gained valley slang.

8

Martin and Lila were best friends, until one day. That day was the day Lila, or Mia as she was now called, became a cheerleader. Martin was confused what happened. He was sitting in the art classroom and then Mia came up to him and placed a football helmet on his head. He instantly started to transform. His hair shortened and darkened to a dark brown and it gained a messy Tiktok boy style. He got more muscular and taller, and developed a deep voice. His face got more rugged and angular and his eyes darkened in colour. His personality got more confident and popular boy-like. He became straight and started to mainly think with his dick. Once it was over Mia took off the helmet and then Martin gained a new name, Matt. He threw away the art supplied and kissed Mia passionately. He was glad he was now a football player and that Mia was his cheerleader girlfriend.

"Yo babe. I love you, you're so sexy huhu!" He said in his new dumb voice

(Decided to do a few of these for being gone for so long. Also short 7 and 8 are connected. And as always, all characters are 18 or over.)

[badguyswin]

”I dare you… to wear this MAGA hat for the rest of the evening!” 

Toby’s heart sank as he heard the dare, yet he begrudgingly accepted the red cap being offered to him. He was attending a house party being thrown by one of his coworkers and, being new at the job, Toby wanted to impress the people he’d be spending much of his time with, so he’d agreed to play Truth or Dare even if it seemed a bit childish for a group of twenty-somethings. A few of them had already picked up on the fact he was not only a bleeding heart liberal but a closeted gay, including Jonah who had been the one to both make the dare and provide the MAGA cap. The item filled Toby was utter revulsion, yet all eyes in the room were on him and he dreaded the thought of being labelled a pussy, so he accepted the cap and resentfully placed it upon his head.

As soon as the garment was firmly wrapped around his skull, Toby was suddenly overcome with a number of sensations that robbed him of his ability to think rationally. Rather than pulling the MAGA cap from his head, Toby sunk down into the sea of new thoughts being installed in his malleable mind: Republican supremacy, traditional gender roles, heterosexual domination, a love of guns and a hatred of the liberals trying to take them, distrust of the mainstream media, and above all else, hero worship of President Trump. Every single thought was foreign to the previously progressive Toby’s mind, yet they had entered his brain with such a tidal wave that all of his previous convictions had been completely washed away.

The changes to Toby’s physical form were almost as dramatic as those to his mindset. His body, once slender and pale, was pumped full of muscle until he could proudly show off a six-pack of abs and a pair of solid pecs, not to mention arms that looked capable of ripping a tree in two and thighs that could crush a watermelon with ease. His feet grew by at least three sizes too and developed a musk that immediately filled up the room. A number of tattoos even appeared on his chest, back and legs while the rest of his skin grew the kind of tan expected of somebody who spent most of their time working on the land under the hot Southern sun. Thick hair sprouted from Toby’s armpits while a goatee formed on the previously clean-shaven man’s face.

There was only one part of Toby’s body that didn’t end up bigger and more traditionally masculine: his cock. Toby had been pretty well-endowed at eight inches, although being as deep in the closet as he was, it was only his hand that had ever gotten any use out of it. He might have been able to use that mighty length to dominate some slutty MAGA chicks if it wasn’t for the fact that the pole was rapidly shrinking, leaving Toby with a measly two inches and a pair of balls the size of peas. It was an emasculating sight, one that filled Toby with the need to overcompensate and assert his dominance in other ways. He’d struggle to ever satisfy a woman with his severely underwhelming manhood - if it could even be called that - but it wasn’t going to stop him from trying.

He was a straight MAGA man and that meant he deserved everything in the damn world!

[bigification]

Preston's 21st

Inspired by a story from Fattystoriez

"Don't worry babe, Preston is an adult now. He can handle meeting his biological father." Vince reassured his husband, hugging him from behind.

"I know, I know. It's just scary letting him take such a big step, I mean what if meeting his father disappoints him. Based on my conversations with that man, I know I would be disappointed. I mean, does he even have a job?" Brent voiced his worries.

"Preston said he was a trucker or something. And this is something that he needs to do. Besides, you know he still loves us as his adoptive parents even if he wants to have his biological father in his life." Vince responded.

"I know, thanks babe." Brent smiled.

"Preston! You should get going, you're gonna be late." Vince yelled.

"I know pops, I'm just getting dressed." Preston yelled back.

Preston scoured through his dresser, trying to find the clothes to wear for his reunion with his father. His biological parents gave him up for adoption when he was a baby, so this will be the first time meeting his father. How was he supposed to dress for an occasion like this.

He threw on his lucky jockstrap, hoping it would give him as much luck as it does in his rugby games. Then he pulled up some grey jeans, leaving them untied while he decided if it looked good.

He stared at the mirror for a bit, undecided on the jeans. And while staring at the mirror, he brushed his hair and combed his beard, wondering if he should shave.

"Preston, hurry up!" Vince yelled again.

"Just a second!" Preston responded.

He quickly buttoned up his jeans and threw on a plain white t-shirt before rushing downstairs. He haphazardly threw on his shoes and a red hat, matching his lucky jockstrap. Just before rushing out the door, his dad's stopped him.

"Be careful, okay?" Brent asked.

"I will, dad." Preston chuckled.

"We love you." Vince added as Preston ran out the door.

"Love you too."

Preston floored it down the road. Luckily his father didn't live far down the road. His brakes screeched as his parked on the side of the road. He was shocked at how run down the neighbourhood looked, each townhome looked old and disheveled. On top of that, every guy he's seen since he entered this neighbourhood has been at least 300 pounds of lard. Preston scoffed at the thought that some people let themselves get to that point.

He squinted as he looked for the address he was given, finally spotting it a few homes down from where he parked. He walked up to the driveway, noticing that the garage door was open. As he got closer, Preston saw a man sitting in the garage, presumably his father. Though his excitement was slightly ruined by the strong smell of beer and cigars coming from the garage. Getting closer, whatever excitement he still had was completely stifled when he got a good look at his father.

The man was laid back on a lawn chair in the middle of the garage, his large frame spilling over the edges of the chair. He was holding a bottle of beer in one hand and a cigar in the other. His button up was undone, letting his exposed gut spill out onto his lap.

"Hey, I think I got the wrong *cough* address, I'm looking for a *cough* man named Travis." Preston asked the man while trying to swat away the smoke.

"Yer' lookin at him, son." Travis said in a thick southern accent.

Preston's stomach dropped when it was confirmed that the slob of a man in front of him was indeed his father. He couldn't believe he was related to a man like that, he had always been active and sporty just like his two dad's. He always figured his biological parents must have been pretty active, but that image of his family was being shattered. I guess it makes sense why he never struggled to bulk for the rugby season.

"C'mon in son, have a beer." Travis pulled out a bottle from the mini fridge behind him.

"I'm okay thanks." Preston politely declined, standing at a healthy distance from his father.

"C'mon in, I don't bite." Travis motioned with his hands. "I was drinkin these when I was half yer age, just try one will ya." He held out the beer.

Preston had never had a beer before. His dad's let him try wine a couple of times, but he hated it so he had interest in drinking alcohol, even if was of age now. But he wanted to at least try to have a relationship with his father, so he took the beer. His hand brushed against Travis' as he took the beer, a strange sensation shot through his hand, almost like an electric shock. He figured it was nothing.

"Good boy, it'll loosen ya up a bit." Travis smiled.

Preston tried twisting the cap off, but it didn't budge.

"Give it here." Travis chuckled as he pulled out a bottle opener. "You need a bottle opener for that, I don't buy any of that twist off sissy bulshit they make nowadays." He continued while popping off the cap with ease. "Here, keep the opener. I got a feeling yer gonna need it."

Preston awkwardly put the bottle opener in his pocket, figuring it would make his dad happy if he just went along for now. Though he could see Travis impatiently waiting for him to have a sip of beer.

He lifted the beer to his lips and tilted the bottle up. The cold liquid slid down his throat. It was a bit weird at first, but it quickly started to taste good. He kept going and going, like his body wouldn't let him pull the bottle away from his mouth. Not like he would want to, this was the best thing he had ever tasted. It kicked in quick too, he started to feel slow and lethargic.

A warm and fuzzy feeling started in Preston's stomach, slowly spreading throughout his body. He instinctively raised his free hand to scratch his belly. It felt round and soft, pressing tightly against his shirt. But for some reason, that felt right to him. In fact, the thought of growing made him feel better, it made him feel strong. His dick started to grow hard as his clothes continued to tighten against his swelling body. His pecs were starting to resemble moobs, and his love handles were beginning to spill over his waist band.

He drank every last drop from the bottle before putting it down. His father looked proud, which further increased that nice warm feeling in his belly. But just before he could say something, a loud burp erupted from the depths of his stomach. As he burped, his modest belly rapidly expanded into a thick ball belly, growing from slightly chubby to extremely overweight in moments.

Preston looked down at his expanding belly. He couldn't see his dick or his feet anymore, he could only see the constant reminder of his gluttony jutting out in front of him.

"Dad... why am I gettin so fat?" Preston asked his father.

"Cuz yer part of the family. Every man in this family becomes a fat slob on their 21st birthday. It's about becomin a man, a real man. Nothing like those skinny liberals you call yer father's." Travis explained.

"But... dad..." Preston tried to talk, but was having trouble thinking.

"Shhhh don't talk son, just have another beer." Travis handed him another bottle.

Preston pulled out his trusty bottle opener and easily popped the cap off the bottle.

"Good boy." Travis said, proud of the man his son was becoming.

Preston started chugging the beer while Travis continued his monologue.

"I was like you when I was just a boy. Skinny, weak, political. My pops made me the strong traditional man I am today, and his father did the same to him. Just like you'll do to your son when he grows up."

Preston's clothes began to strain as his body continued to grow. His gut started to hang over his jeans, sagging under its own immense weight. His love handles also spilled over his jeans, making his silhouette look wide and round. His soft pecs swelled into thick man tits that sagged onto his gut.

The button on his jeans popped off, launching across the garage as fat piled into his juicy ass. And a stain of pre cum started to form in his jeans while he massaged his growing gut.

"I'm so proud of you Preston, yer growin so big already." Travis remarked. "And it's not only our sons we can use this God given ability on. We can turn any weak little man into a big strong man, like they were meant to be. Some men choose to walk down a dark path that leads to communism and dieting instead of traditional values and hearty meals, God gave us this ability to save those men from themselves."

Preston finished his second beer, letting out an even louder burp than last time, being heard throughout the neighborhood. As he did so, his tiny clothes finally gave out, leaving him in nothing but a red hat and his lucky jockstrap which is digging into his soft waist.

"Daddy... *Buuuuuurp* I..." Preston tried to speak.

"You want to get fatter and make yer family proud, right son?" Travis asked.

"Yes..." Preston responded.

"Good boy, now drink up." Travis handed him another beer.

Preston tried to look back towards the street, where multiple men were stood watching. He tried to cover up his fat naked body, but it was no use.

"Don't look at them, son. Look at me. If you want to make yer pops proud, you drink that beer." Travis pulled attention away from the onlookers.

Preston simply nodded and started chugging again.

"All those men out there are proud of the man yer becomin'. They used to be weak, just like yer adoptive daddies, but I fixed them. I fixed every man in this neighborhood. And I can't wait for you to do the same to yer daddies." Travis said.

"You can fix my daddies?" Preston asked, a thick southern accent starting to take over.

"Of course I can, son. And yer gonna help me." Travis said getting up from his chair. "Now let's get'ya in some clothes."

As his father went searching for a set of clothes that would fit him, Preston finally started growing accustomed to his new body. He had to lean back just to balance out the immense weight of his gut, and he had to spread his arms and legs just to stop them from chaffing. A sense of pride washed over his face, once unsure, he was now unwavering in his confidence. His dull smile was now a permanent sign of his blissful ignorance, he was a proud conservative man just like his father. Tasked with saving other men from their weakness.

"Here ya are, son." Travis tossed him a t-shirt and pants, "they'll be a bit tight cuz ya turned out to be bigger than I thought, but that's somethin' to be proud of."

After taking an unusual amount of time getting his clothes on, Preston confidently looked at himself in the mirror. His clothes were right and his gut spilled out of his new shirt, a public reminder of his manliness. He pulled up his shirt, showing off his rotund gut and his thick man tits, and took a picture.

"Alright son, you ready to see yer daddies?" Travis asked while walking to Preston's car.

"Sure am." He responded with a devilish grin.

The two squeezed into Preston's car, both having to adjust their seats as far back as possible. With his gut touching the wheel, and his head nearly touching the ceiling, Preston floored it back to his place. His dick was leaking at the thought of his adoptive dad's becoming like him. It didn't help that his fat jiggled with the slightest bump in the road, making the stain in his pants even larger.

His tires squeeze as he pulls into his driveway.

"You go in the front door, I'll head 'round back to see if I can catch one of 'em off guard." Travis said as he got out of the car.

Preston simply nodded in response. Travis swiftly, or at least as swiftly as he could, made his way around the house to the backyard. Preston struggled for a moment trying to get out of his car before waddling up to his front door. His heart was pounding, both from the walk up to the door and from the thought of seeing his pops.

He braced for a moment before opening the door and walking inside. Vince was by the closet getting ready for work, seemingly unaware of Preston's presence.

Preston watched for a moment as his father contemplated which tie he wanted to wear. He grunted in disapproval at his grey tie and swapped it out for a pink one.

"What a weak little man." Preston thought.

Vince then grabs an expensive looking suit jacket and throws it on.

"Pops always told me that 'the suit makes the man'." Preston continued to think of things about his father he now despised.

Vince adjusted his suit one last time, making sure it was perfect before turning to leave. He flinched when he finally made eye contact with his son. You could see his kind struggling to process the situation. First he flinched because he didn't recognize Preston, but he quickly relaxed when he realized it was his son. Then fear took over his face once again when he saw the 150 pounds of fat that had engulfed Preston's body.

"Preston?" He asked, his voice was trembling. "Is that you?"

"Sure is pops. In all my glory." Preston said confidently as his slapped his gut.

"Oh my god, what happened to you?!" Vince rushed to help his son.

"My father showed me the error of my ways, the error of yer ways."

"What are you talking about?" Vince asked, now full on panicking.

"You'll see, everyone will see." Preston raised his voice, now sporting an unmistakable deep southern accent.

He grabbed Vince's hand, an electric shock surge from his hand into his father's. Almost immediately, Vince froze. His body was motionless and his eyes went blank.

Preston happily watched on as his adoptive father started to rapidly pack on the pounds. It started with his stomach. Once flat, it quickly started to grow rounder and stick out further. It grew larger than a basketball, sticking out of his suit jacket. It swelled until his dress shirt was at its limit and his gut was spilling over his belt. Although it was still much smaller than both Preston's and Travis', he was still left with a sizable pot belly that protruded in front of him.

Next his chest starts to inflate. The once athletic looking man became buried under a layer of fat. His pecs softened and swelled into a thick pair of moobs that showed through his tight shirt. His arms also got covered in a thick layer of fat, filling out the empty space in his sleeves.

Preston smiled when he heard Vince's dress pants start to rip as his ass inflated, becoming wide but still perky, perfectly filling out his pants. He wasn't as lucky with his belt, however, as his waistline expanded by over 8 inches, snapping his belt in the process. The rest of his pants filled out nicely as his legs swelled with fat.

Finally, his blank face started to change. His ragged features became softer as his face fattened. His cheeks widened and his nose grew, his jawline melted away as a double chin formed. Luckily his beard grew out, covering most of the damage. And his hair suddenly became gelled and combed to the side, making him look professional despite barely fitting into his clothes.

"Oh, hello Preston." Vince said, finally coming back to. "Did you put on weight since I last saw you, it looks good on you kid." He said pinching Preston's belly.

"Thanks Vince." Preston responded.

- Meanwhile -

Travis huffed and puffed as he made it around the house and into the backyard. He seems to have caught Brent just as he was getting into the pool. Travis sneered at the image of Brent's shirtless body. Skinny and well toned, especially for his age. A sign of weakness is all Travis saw.

"Who are you!?" Brent jumped as he noticed the stranger in his backyard.

"I'm Travis, Preston's father." Travis said with a fake smile.

"Oh..." Brent paused for a moment, his eyes scanning Travis' enormous body. "Brent." He responded, reaching for a handshake.

"Glad to meet'ya." Travis said, shaking his hand.

It was almost comical to contrast between the two men's hands. Travis' were thick and calloused from years hauling equipment for his trucking company, while Brent's were sleek and elegant. The contrast wouldn't last for long, however, as a spark of electricity quickly shot from Travis' hand into Brent.

Brent flinched and pulled his hand away, but he was too late. His expression went blank and he stopped moving. The hand he made contact with started to swell. His sleek fingers were stuffed with fat as his hand plumped up. The definition in his arm faded under a thick layer of fat, making it sag under its own weight.

The transformation continued up his arm and into his body. Every part of him was starting to expand. His shoulders broadened, pecs softened, and his flat stomach started to round out. Within seconds he had a pot belly larger than Vince's. It seemed to throw him off balance and he started stumbling backward.

He tripped and fell back first into the pool, creating a large splash in the process. Travis watched in satisfaction as Brent's silhouette under the water was growing larger and larger.

As he grew fatter, he started floating back to the surface. Eventually a soft belly was poking out of the water's surface.

Moments later, Brent came to and pulled his head out of the water. His face was visibly fatter, with chubby cheeks that made his face look much wider and a double chin hiding under his beard.

"You see that Travis!" Brent yelled in a thick southern accent. "I must'a made a real big splash." He chuckled.

"I sure did!" Travis laughed. "Now why don't you come on inside so we can talk business."

Brent slowly made his way to the steps at the end of the pool. He took each step carefully, clearly struggling with his new body. And as he did so, more and more of his body was revealed. His pecs had swollen into soft man tits that sagged into his arm pits. His gut was by far the largest in the family, putting Travis' to shame. His love handles spilled over his skin tight speedo, making his body much wider. Speaking of which, his speedo was barely holding on as it tried to hold his fat ass and thick fat pad. And finally his massive thighs that made him spread his legs just to be able to walk.

Brent proudly approached Travis, gut first as always, eager to talk to him about their trucking business. The two squeezed through the back door into the living room where Preston had just finished up with Vince.

"Good job, son." Travis said with pride.

"Thanks dad!"

"Now for business," Travis huddled with the newly transformed Brent and Vince. "Now as you know, your uncle's and I have built this trucking business from nothing..."

Preston looked confused for a moment before it clicked. Vince and Brent weren't his adoptive dad's, why would he need adoptive dad's when he's got a father already. They're his uncles who helped raise him as if he were there own.

"Brent and I as the truckers and Vince as the fancy business man." Travis said while yanking on Vince's expensive looking suit. "But that's besides the point, I'm gettin' off topic. Since you're an adult now, we want to start training you to be a trucker."

"Really?" Preston asked.

"Of course, son. We want you to pass on the family business so it can keep going for generations. Every kid you have can grow up to be big fat truckers just like you and me."

"You would really pass on the business to me." Preston's said excitedly.

"Now don't get too ahead of yer'self son, that won't be anytime soon. But when we're too old and too fat to run the business, that's when you'll take over. By then I'm sure you'll have recruited enough men to do the job, just like I taught ya." Travis monologued. "Now, who's ready for a big meal?"

"I am!"

[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.

[mrrharper]

Neighborhood Association

Cale put down the last box and sighed. He could now officially state that he has moved. He looked around the living room and felt proud of himself, after working tirelessly for almost a week to turn this space into a home. The same couldn’t be said about his feeling towards the place his new home was located in.

He was forced to move after the rent in his last apartment was hiked by 25%. This was more than he could handle, so he decided right then and there that the would find a cheaper place to live. He went on Zillow and it didn’t take long before he found the place he was now living in. Gorgeous building, well-kept outside, spacious inside, with a stupidly low rent. He called the landlord first thing the following day. He signed the lease a week after that.

It was only then that his friends came up to him and made him realize what was the place he was about to move into. Pinewood, an outer suburb and the only Republican stronghold in the entire metro area. This was bad news for the young gay software engineer basically addicted to the queer city life. But he had already signed all the paperwork and he decided he would make this work. Each time he felt like this might not have been the best decision he reminded himself that even with the longer commute he was saving a lot of many. Yeah, maybe the town screamed “All-American conservative suburb”, but this was the price for financial stability, Cale told himself.

Cale heard a knock on the door. He walked up to the entrance and opened it. He was surprised to see no one in front of his house, not even a single person walking along the street. Then he looked down and saw a leaflet. Oh, that’s what this was about. He picked up the piece of paper and started reading as he went back inside. “The Pinewood East Neighborhood Association welcomes you in our area. We are glad you’ve decided to find your special place within our prosperous community and invite you to become an active member. Just scan the QR code and fill the form. FIND YOUR ROLE IN PINEWOOD.” Well, that’s nice, Cale thought to himself. He sat down on the couch and scanned the code on the leaflet. The form was pretty standard, for the most part. The only unusual part was the part where he was asked about hobbies. It was not an open question and Cale was forced to choose for only a couple of options. He rolled his eyes, who designed this form? He picked “morning runs and fitness”. He did try to get into he habit of running a year ago. And a year before running it was working out. So he guessed this was the option closest to the truth. He quickly finished filling up the whole form and sent it, quickly forgetting about the whole thing.

Two days later when he came back from work and walked up to his door he saw a package. He was surprised, he didn’t remember ordering anything. But as he looked closer he confirmed that the box was addressed to him. There was just one small typo, Caleb instead of Cale, but he was used to it. He picked the package up and took it inside to his living room. He then opened the box and saw a letter on top. It turned out it was a welcome package from the neighborhood association. Cale thought it was a nice gift, but didn’t care to see what was inside the package itself. The only thing he took out was the baseball cap with the association’s logo on it. When later that day he went out to run a few errands he put it on, because it was the closest to his hand as he was leaving the house. He came back late and after getting out of his clothes he went back to bed. He forgot to take the cap off.

Caleb slowly woke up. He stood up and stretched his arms. He felt a weird ache throughout his whole body, and he didn’t know why— damn, that sesh at the gym yesterday was rough. But that ache was the sign that it was working. He turned his head and watched his arm as he flexed his biceps.

He came up to his closet for something to wear. But he only saw a few faggy shirts and some tight pants. What the fuck, he thought. But then his mind was instantly covered by a weird fog and he walked into the living room and picked up a big box standing on the floor. He opened it and took out a black compression shirt and a pair of gym shorts. He quickly put them on and immediately felt better, his muscles filling up the clothes perfectly.

Right after, Caleb looked up to see a pride flag hanging from one of the walls and a feeling of disgust filled his fog-covered head. He jumped up to the wall and grabbed the piece of fabric, then threw it on the ground. Then he came back to the box and took out a ‘thin blue line’ flag. That fit him way better and he quickly put it on the wall.

He heard his phone ring. He took his phone and answered.

“Yeah?”

“Good morning, this is Cathy form the Pinewood East Neighborhood Association. Is this Cale?”

“Ugh” Caleb grunted. Stupid woman. “It’s Caleb.”

“Oh, of course, my apologies” Cathy answered, but she didn’t sound like she was really sorry. “I’m calling to ask a few questions before we accept you as a full member”

“Sure, whatever” Caleb’s interest in the phone call was dwindling fast and he started flexing once again, watching his biceps go up and down.

“What’s your profession?” Caleb’s mind, completely covered by fog, didn’t know what to say.

“Ughhhh, soft…ware… was it… wait a minute—”

“Is it security guard, Caleb?”

“What?” He did not expect the woman to be such a psychic. “Yeah, yeah, security guard, duh.”

“Great, thank you Caleb, and one more question. There’s a group that wants to organize a Pride event in out beautiful city. How would you respond to such a proposal?”

“Hell no, we don’t want no queer near our place, isn’t that right? Bunch of degenerates” Caleb barked at the phone.

“I understand Caleb, and we agree, you’re absolutely right” The woman on the other side sounded almost… proud? “I won’t hold you any further, you have a job to go to. I’m glad you are fulfilling your role within our community. See you soon.” And then Cathy ended the call. Caleb shrugged, he wasn’t sure what was the deal with all this neighborhood shit, but why should he care? He was here for the low rent and the job that allowed him to spend half the day at the gym.

As he walked from the living room to the kitchen Caleb stopped in front of the mirror and started flexing. Damn, these guns of his looked impressive. And fuck, his chest was like a damn pillow, so sick. He watched his pecs flex in the mirror, moving under his compression shirt. These muscles were ready to smash degenerates and grab any pussy he wanted. When he was ready to leave the house, driven by instinct he went back to the box and picked up a pair of sunglasses he then immediately put on. Yeah, now he was ready to go to work and fulfill the role he was assigned in Pinewood. And brah, it felt fuckin’ great.

[needofcuddles-tf]

Oh, to be young and fresh...

A Shift In Attractions

Jace was crushed, after asking his asian friend for a date. Only to be told a lengthy description on why he should change his ways and set himself straight, before leaving off to some random asian chick who he never recalled seeing him with.

Though then again, the asian man was just a crush right? Crushes get crushed he supposed. Though he thought they had something, unlike those one night stands in private...

Maybe if they had bonded more in class than just mere classmates, he could have stood a chance...?

“No no...”

Shaking his head, he doubted it, the guy seemed completely dedicated to his girlfriend. He always recalled him proclaiming ‘Praise the lord to our relationship’ as he kissed his girl. No wonder he accentuated on the word ‘Straight’.

He never felt more insulted. Tugging his dress shirt, the tall lean college senior scoffed. Yes he was a valedictorian, and he stood out, but that did not give the right for this christian hottie to just diss him off like that.

He was being polite and civil too. All he wanted was to graduate with honours and have a lovely boyfriend.

He wished that he could have fallen for someone else...a shift in attractions-

“Hey man! Would you like to join us for prayer time?”

A tanned asian man in a checkered shirt and khakis interrupted his train of thought...and boy, was he cute. Down to the mannerisms and attitude...darn, he reminded quite a bit of his crush.

Without speaking, the tanned man grabbed hold and brought him down the alley way, where soft tunes filled in the atmosphere, as a group of men were seated in the middle.

“Welcome brother, I’m Paul Heng. So glad of you to join us.”

Ushering him down next to the man, he blushed wildly as he could. If anything, he literally drooled at those thick biceps and pecs straining against that marine tank of his. Not to mention the cute innocence that he displayed beneath those messy bangs of his, despite the asian probably being around the same age of him.

“Would you like to share with us what seems to be the matter?” Paul Heng spoke.

He looked around, more than half of the men were asian, and his gaydar definitely sensed the rest are gay, coincidentally enough. Not as to say the asians are not gay...but this group in particular...

Whatever, maybe they are allies at the very least.

“Oh...There was this guy...and..”

“Say no more.”

Paul placed his palm over on his back, still retaining his smile as he closed his eyes, head down as he prayed.

“Father God, please work about a shift in attractions within this man.”

The music was cranked up louder, still peaceful but yet...a little too calming? Coupled by the warmness emitting from the asian’s palm...it just made him, want to tell everything...

Eyelids heavy, Jace watched as the others mirrored him and Paul. Each of them grinning as their eyelids closed shut.

“Tell us...what you desire.”

Paul spoke, as his palm radiated heat within his back. Soothing those tired knots, loosening them, giving vigour that he never had. Igniting new desires within him.

“I want...to be young and fresh.”

Those words escaped out of his mouth instantly, like a inner desire coming forth. Young and fresh? Didn’t he want to graduate from school? As a senior? But as the warm, radiating heat seared his skin...almost like a warm tan, it definitely showed otherwise.

Sophomore, yeah he did do sort of well in school...but that was not what he really wanted. Crushing on his role model who was older definitely did not do him any favours either...

Freshman...yes, that was exactly what he wanted, where he is. Completely new to everything, a blank slate, letting the warmth guide him in the...overly calming music being played in the background. Regressing to a man who just turned legal 18 a couple of months ago, of course.

This was the freshman’s orientation, he and the other newbies were assigned to be in this group. Sure it was odd why they were in a batch with more than half being Christian and asian, but who was he to judge?

He was young, and fresh.

“Indeed, and someone as young as yourself, is bound to have so much energy.”

Senior Paul’s palm radiated heat once again. Jam grinned wildly, as his back wanted to just carry tons of stuff cause of his energy. Legs unable to sit still as they shifted back and forth within the meditation position he was in.

“And with that energy, belongs to brothers who are athletic.”

Energy, athletics. It made sense didn’t it? His back, while much younger, gained a sizeable definition as they broadened with the heat. Embracing the care, and concern from his brotherly figure, as the tanning trailed forward with the suggestion.

His chest toughened, definitely not as crazy big like his seniors, but he did work out quite a bit! A Light trace of abdominals Pressing against his dress shirt, his pectorals inflating to a sizeable degree, with those ‘Tiny udders’ begging to be milked.

But wait, didn’t he had done ‘It’ before? But that did not make sense to the college freshman. He just turned legal months ago! No way was he into that kind of life.

Besides, it feels unethical to think of such thoughts with Christians. Pretty sure they rubbed off him...despite being...

“Amen brother?”

“Oofmm...”

Paul gave a gentle rub against his back, as he let out a soft, satisfied response like the other freshmen. He just...knew this freshman orientation helped them, eyes still remaining shut as it was still prayer time.

“Amen...”

He spoke calmly, though there were hints of joviality within them. Grinning, his vocal chords still shifting due to puberty, he sounded so cute, so young. But damn these clothes are so uncomfortable.

He was never the smartest guy in his class, or even mid way. Which was supposedly odd considering he was half asian. Preferring softer, younger clothes that are more trendy or just stuff that gave his muscles a little more breathing room.

Wincing, he felt his legs strain against his Dress pants, being too tight for the male altogether and just a chore. Why did he pick such nerdy subjects? Those stuff are for brainiacs and the gays!

Wait did he just say that? He was gay...though that insult felt appropriate to him. Like how gay it was for him to wear briefs and shoes two sizes bigger than he was. Did he let his mother dress him or something?

Man...he hoped that his youth leader would call him out on-

“With such a youthful appearance, one ought to dress like one.”

Thank Lord! Someone gets him. Grinning wildly, Paul’s warm synchronising with his own, as the tight fabric softened. Sleeves rolling up to just below his shoulders, clinging firmly on his back as buttons and the collar disappeared into the wind.

Colour darkening in cotton, as printed logos plastered itself on his brand new Youth Trends shirt he got with an iconic ‘ORH’. Giving his body the much needed breather room it so desired.

Why would he wear a dress shirt? Only DORKS wear those....and his pastors and sometimes his youth leader as well...BUT NOT HIM. He definitely pulled pranks, but not stuff like that!

Sides, if there was a prank, he would be doing the more hands on kind of approach. What was he? An academic nerd? Haha ok lol boomer. He launches erasers, paint balloons and all those kinds of stuff towards the nerds.

Serves them right for calling em’ gay!

His tanned asian arms flexed in response, as his expensive watch became cheaper with rubber straps. It was time for attention! And being young, he wanted all if it!

So much, that Paul had to always bring them down before they interrupted the prayer session. He was so cool, his big bro Paul Heng, allowing him to just be, HIM.

Dress pants shrunk upwards, concentrating with mesh fabric as they became grey sports shorts. The kind of stuff he always wore while on the field kicking balls, soccer balls DUH. What you think, huh?

Tightening below in two areas, shoes shrinking to a size 8, metallic indents growing at the bottom and a signature styled itself on both ends of the cleats. Whose signature, one of the pro asian athletes of course. Which one? HAHA, Why you want to know? Gay?

Gay? POKE! Thrusting forward, by only a small bit. His hard-on actually shrunk back a couple of centimetres, like his brain-LOL WHO YOU CALLIN’ DUMB, FAGGOT?

Ruder and ruder, thrusting as he so desperately wanted action, never experiencing it. Buttocks hardening but shrinking in size as well, compacting to the new Jockstrap with his 6 inch wiener, only when its-

“Any Hard thoughts? Benjam....”

Paul spoke, his hand still on his back. Yeah he was hard, though it would be pretty gay if he said he got hard cause of the prayer. Yeah he was a new christian, but still...

“Yeah man...I wanna...”

The Chinese Asian’s pubescent voice spoke out...to be honest, he was not sure what he wanted. He liked being a young jock, but the more he tried to think of...some random older asian, it felt really really off.

What was he? GAY? I mean he had...some gay thoughts, but what was he thought when he was a Christian for years? Be fruitful and multiply...and man, did that phrase cause his smaller crotch to just wanna skyrocket through late puberty already.

“A hot babe?”

“Oh yes! Yes!”

“Hot babes for us men!”

“Preach it pastor!”

A hot babe? Yes! Yes! That was what he wanted, what his group wanted. Total jocks abstaining since forever, but now that they are legal, man did he just want to get married already and let loose, fulfil the calling on his life.

“Oh man I wish...I wish..”

Benjam squeezed his thighs as tight as he could. Rubbing against his smaller member as every brush only excited him further. The prayer session was simply too much for him to handle on his own. He had to say it, he had to-

“Brothers, You know what to do to seal the deal. Lead the way, Brother Shang.”

Paul got up from his place, but the warmth never left Benjam Shang’s side, his big brother figure trusted him in doing this, in spite of his young and fresh attitude which just pissed some of the older folks.

Its time for the younger generation to play a part in THIS-

“WE ARE CHRISTIANS!”

He yelled, in his youthful splendour. Pumping his fist in the hair, eyes still closed.

“WE ARE CHRISTIANS!”

The rest of his soccer group followed in suit, he knew that cause of their fellowship together of course.

They had stuck together since young in church, a close group which stuck like brothers through thick and thin. Through church camps, hang outs, and even the boring examinations he could not care less about.

As for as he was concerned, he had spiritual wisdom. Better than those overly intelligent NERDS!

“WE ARE HOT!”

“WE ARE HOT!”

He proclaimed, of course they were. They were the most popular group throughout high school. All the ladies wanted a piece of them, and all the GAYS were jealous.

Provoked to jealousy. Smirking to himself, cheekbones rising and rosy. He was always such a prankster, just light hearted stuff, nothing too GAY of course.

Though he doubted it was anything too far like some other of the ‘HetTubers’ did. Hair follicles brushing to the side, hair bangs over his brow as a raven feathery guy next door kind of look stuck on him, short hair of course-he was into sports and chicks said he looked cute with this style.

He was a Christian after all. Jaw rounding out while sharpening at the edges, with lips beaming into a smile, flashing bright pearly whites. He still represented God and even though he was mean sometimes with his ‘zoomer speech’, as the pastors would describe it, but hey-he was young and fresh!

“AND WE ARE GOING TO HAVE WIVES!”

“AND WE ARE GOING TO HAVE WIVES!”

The men inhaled deeply, nostrils wrinkling. Man it reeked of testosterone...They loved each other like brothers, but jocks needed their cheerleaders, husbands needed their wives. Not the smell of sports cologne.

They wanted to finish quick. At the final phase, light eyebrows furrowing, anticipating the climax with an-

“AMEN!”

“AMEN!”

“AMEN BROTHER!”

The new Benjamin Shang proudly proclaimed the chant, like the rest of the men. Boisterous Voices blending in harmoniously as a choir. Claps from the seniors applauded from the background, Paul was definitely pleased with him.

Letting loose their vocal chords like they just ‘came’ to be, of course nothing came out from below. Those were reserved specially for their wives, which they knew will be coming soon.

Beady eyes opening simultaneously staring around innocently as a college freshman, fresh and ready to chase-

CLICK

CLICK

Tail.

Almost instantaneously, his eyes were directed away from the group of men he was at. The rest of brothers followed as well, upon hearing the sound of high heels growing nearer. Laser focused on the single asian lady by the corridor.

“Look at her...she’s so pretty...”

[stonedstr8]

TOKE 'N STROKE

"Ads are getting so damn invasive." Lucas thought to himself, clicking skip on yet another pointless car commercial interrupting the video essay he was watching. "You think the algorithm would know its audience by now, I'm too gay to drive!"

He laughed a little bit at the joke, running a hand through his soft, bleached blonde hair. He was the epitome of a high-maintenance twink, with his smooth, hairless body and perfect sense of style. He was smart too and liked to boast about it, with a scholarship for his English Lit degree and being made President of his university's LGBT Chapter, which he was hoping to use as a stepping stone to become Student Body President next year.

Leaning back again in his chair he reached for his cellphone, seeing a text from his boyfriend Alex.

Alex: "Hey cutie, still busy with finals this weekend, but have time for a dinner date Sunday night?"

He smiled to himself, giving an eager text back to set it up, and to wish him well on his upcoming exams. "Ugh, I need to start studying too, Monday's going to be one hell of a final... I'll focus on it and head to the library after this video and-"

Just like that, his train of thought was interrupted again by a stupid ad, this time some obnoxious psychedelic visuals and a bad electric guitar riff blared out of his monitor. It startled him so badly that he seized up for a second, accidentally clicking the ad and being brought to their store page. "Broski's Bud's, one stop ship and shop for weed strains to fix your brain..." He rolled his eyes at the cringe marketing, getting ready to close the tab when a pop-up opened trying to tell him all about a deal he 'wouldn't want to miss out on'. "No thanks, stupid site, you can keep your Bro Buds or whatever to yourself." but every time he hit X on the popup another would open, being more and more insistent each time about new deals, until finally a desperate '90% OFF AND SPECIAL STARTER KIT AS A BONUS WITH YOUR FIRST PURCHASE' filled his screen. "FINE," he scoffed at his computer, "I'll take a look at the stupid site. My therapist suggested I try out weed to help lessen my anxiety anyways, so might as well get a good deal on it..."

Clicking the pop-up added the 'starter kit' to his cart, it was a pack of pre-rolled blunts and some sort of mystery box, but the description didn't help him understand it much either. "Get ready to step into the zone and open ur mind with this one bros, Broski's Buds bestselling strain, Toke 'n Stroke, is sure to change your life by stimulating a high never felt before! This isn't your sissy uncle's strain, this shit puts hair on your chest like a real man!"

"God this is so cringe, I bet they get all kinds of business marketing to the dumb jocks in town, no wonder their brains are mush. Still, it's just weed and for $20 I might as well give it a try, I probably won't find it cheaper anywhere else..." sitting in thought about it for a few seconds, Lucas finally filled in his payment info and placed his order, getting a free upgrade to same-day delivery since they seem to have a storefront a few miles from his apartment.

"Well, there goes my library plans I guess, I'll have to wait around for delivery since my package will probably get swiped otherwise..." Lucas sighed, turning off his computer and plopping down onto the couch, picking up his Switch to play Animal Crossing and kill time.

A few hours passed and the sky got dark before finally a long buzz came from his intercom. "Took them long enough, it's nearly 9pm!" he complained, putting his jacket on to head downstairs. When he got down there the delivery guy had already gotten into his car again, driving away and leaving Lucas to carry the package back upstairs all on his own. It was bigger than he expected, taking both hands to lift it and keep it stable. "Jesus, this thing must weight like 40 pounds! What did they put in here?"

After a bit of struggling and the occasional break to catch his breath, Lucas pushed his package into the living room, collapsing on the floor next to it for a while. "After that workout I'm surprised I don't look like the douchebags around campus." he laughed to himself, bouncing up to get a box cutter and pry his package open. After taking the carton of pre-rolled blunts out, he started into the box with a bit of confusion and disgust, pulling things out one after the other.

"A sleeveless tank top that says 'Toke 'n Stroke Bro'... A pair of douchey sunglasses... Some red gym shorts, socks and slides... Ew, a snapback saying 'Who ate all the pussy?', why the fuck would anyone wear this!... And 2 dumbbells, no wonder this thing was so heavy! All of this is useless shit that's gonna end up in a donation bin now, I'll have to drop this trashy stuff off tomorrow on my way to the library... But hey, at least the weed seems fine, smells... potent." He said, tossing everything back into the box and taking a whiff of one of the blunts.

Kicking back on the couch again, he played with the blunt in his hand for a while before finally having the courage to light it up, taking a hit. Immediately he started coughing, not used to the sensation, but it did make his brain start to feel... fuzzy. "Damn, okay I need to push past it and get used to it." he said, lighting up for another hit of the blunt, this time barely a cough escaping his throat, feeling suspiciously more used to it. Then another, and another, until finally the whole blunt was gone. Sitting in his daze for a while, he enjoyed the sensation of his mind drifting around experiencing the high, his anxiety melting away as if he didn't have a care in the world. Eventually he decided to try and get up, but his body slumped over off the couch and hitting the floor, the room fading to black...

...

When Lucas finally came to again, the first thing that hit him was the strong smell of weed floating around in the air. "Damn bro, did I smoke the whole set or what..." he laughed groggily, getting ready to stretch out and get back to laying on the couch before he was startled by the sound of moaning blasting from his TV, eyes shooting open in confusion. On the screen, two busty lesbians were making out, them taking turns groping each others boobs and fingering each other. "What the fuck bro, how long has this been on?" he cursed, nervous that the neighbors nextdoor might have heard it playing as he started desperately looking for the remote.

When he couldn't find it in the cushions, he got up from the couch only to be met with his feet kicking a bunch of empty beer cans. "Dude, there's gotta be 2 dozen thrown all over the floor, did I have a party or something? I don't even know anyone who drinks beer..." he mumbled, going to scratch his head in confusion, but was even more confused when instead of his hair he felt a hat on top of his head. "Huh?" he thought, as he looked down at the floor again, noticing that instead of his skinny jeans and converse he was now wearing the socks and slides from the box, along with the sleeveless tank top and the shorts too. He stumbled his way to the bathroom door still baked out of his mind, mouth dropping open at his reflection in the full-length mirror in front of him.

"Broooo, am I dreaming or what the fuckkkk is going on" he said in disbelief. No more was the cute, pale twink he used to be staring back at him. Instead, a douchey bro he didn't recognize was standing face to face with him. Tanned skin, pillowy muscles, his once blonde hair turned into a brown buzz cut and with that stupid "Who ate all the pussy?" hat slapped over it. He touched his face, feeling along his chin where his once smooth skin now had a rougher texture, and a trashy chinstrap sprouted from his jawline. He slapped his face a few times in his daze, trying to wake up from the dream and growing more confused each time nothing changed.

Turning around and staggering back to his living room to try and make sense of what's going on, it hit him that he barely recognizes the room anymore. His apartment used to be perfectly maintained and well-decorated, now there was beer cans all over the floor, along with dirty socks and cummed-in underwear, greasy pizza boxes and chip bags all over the table and counter, the decorations on his walls had been torn down and replaced with posters of chicks in bikinis and sports teams, his Switch replaced with an X-Box and a stack of COD games next to it, DVD cases of trashy bro-comedies were thrown around near the TV too... Then the smell hit him, it STUNK in here, like a sickening mixture of weed, cheap body spray, and sour BO wafting in a heat around the room. "Bro, it fucking reeks in here... Or wait..." he mumbled as he gave himself a whiff, "I fucking reek!"

After a bit of stunned silence he finally started to process things in his brain again. How the fuck did he get like this, was any of this even real, and how does he get back to normal? He plopped back onto the couch, picking up his phone to see he had a handful of missed texts and calls from his boyfriend before noticing the time... 2:00pm. On Sunday. He had somehow been blacked out for 2 whole nights, with no memory of anything that had happened. While getting ready to call his boyfriend back, Lucas felt his insides rumbling and at first he thought it was from the munchies because of all the weed, but then he realized "Oh bro, all that double-cheese pizza is really gonna fucking..."

*PHRRRBBBTTT!*

His body instinctively lifted its leg as it pushed out the loudest and most obnoxious fart he'd ever ripped in his life, as his body seemed to react on its own, letting out an immature laugh and wafting the air before muttering "Fuck yeah bro, smells like victory!" He leaned back into the couch, remembering he needed to call Alex, but the loud moaning on the TV caught him off guard again. This time he locked eyes with the screen, the cock in his shorts immediately bulging and straining at the sight of the lesbian porn before him. "I really need to turn this shit off and get whatever's going on sorted out..." he thought, but he realized he couldn't move his hand to reach for his phone, instead it reacted on its own, reaching down his waistband to pull out his cock and start stroking for the busty babes on TV.

"All I do is Toke 'n Stroke, bro..." a voice in his head seemed to say, except it didn't come from within, he spoke it directly out of his own mouth.

"Wait, I didn't say that bro, it's-" he tried to talk, realizing that his thoughts echoed around stuck in his own head, not even leaving the lips of his own body. He was just stuck there, watching in a dazed horror as he went on autopilot.

"Toke 'n Stroke bro, I'm such a loyal customer Broski's Buds will HAVE to take me as a hype boy this time haha!" his voice spoke again, continuing to stroke for the porn on TV, Lucas's eyes stuck fixed on the screen. Suddenly though, he was interrupted by his phone vibrating, a text from his boyfriend coming through.

Alex: "Hey cutie, I hope everything is alright? You haven't answered my calls or texts in a couple days, I know it's busy with all your studying but we do still have dinner planned for tonight. Still on for me to pick you up at 5?"

"Oh thank God," Lucas thought, reading the message, "I can tell him what's going on and have him come over to help me fix this shit!" Unlocking his phone, Lucas let out a sigh of relief as he got ready to reply, only for his body to still be taken over by whatever douchey daze it was stuck in.

Lucas: "dont u ever come around me u faggy creep, if me or my bros ever catch u within 100 feet of us we'll give u the beating of a lifetime! fuck around n find out if u dare to show ur face here."

Lucas screamed internally as the message was typed out and sent in front of his very eyes, before his hand moved to block his boyfriend's number and turn his phone off. "Something is seriously fucking wrong with me bro, I need to-"

*PHHRRRRBBBTTTTTT*

Another obnoxious and sickening fart blasted out of his ass, filling the room and breaking Lucas's thoughts down into a daze again, as he felt around under the couch for something before pulling a sweaty, well-used fuck toy of a girls ass and pussy up from the mess.

As Lucas once again locked eyes with the TV, he took another hit from his dwindling blunt stash, finishing up the last one. After throwing what was left onto the floor, he prepared the fuck toy and slid it right down onto his cock, starting to bounce the toy up and down as he edged himself closer to finishing.

"If I can't figure out a way to snap out of this, I'm so fucked..." he thought, as his voice spoke again. "Toke 'n Stroke bro, this chick is soooo getting fucked!" He moaned, as he shot his thick load into the toy, feeling some of his braincells permanently shoot out with it, sloppily wiping the mess on the cushion next to him as he laid back, feeling his insides start to bubble again.

Lucas had a lot of Bro Time to catch up on, but luckily his new favorite weed strain was making sure that he was a captive audience until he was fully converted and assimilated into just another Bro.

[dansformations]

"Man of the future"

Alan was 20 years old gay guy that turned his passion for video games into a career as a streamer. Every night, he sat in front of his computer, illuminated by the lights of his setup, and connected to play with his thousands of followers enchanted by the fact of having a popular gay and handsome streamer. That night, however, something different happened.

While chatting with his audience and viewing the comments in the chat, he noticed a message that stood out among the others.

@ yourbroski: "Try this game, 'Man of the Future'," said a donation message with a link.

@ yourbroski: "Its my game, i create It"

- You Did!? No way - Alan replied

He clicked the link, opening the Game just for being nice, the title didnt sounded like something that the girly Alan would enjoy.

Within seconds after the click, Alan found himself downloading a game he had never heard of. The title, "Man of the Future," glowed on the screen.

The game was a complicated obstacle course and shooter that quickly engrossed Alan into the digital word.

- Hey, this is indeed fun

But the fun ended quickly. When he died in the game for the first time - Which was pretty fast -, a screen appeared with the saying, "C'mon Bro, you can do better" along with an strange music, almost hipnotazing music.

- Whoa, did you guys see that? - Alan said, leaning back in his chair. - This game is savage! 'C'mon Bro, you can do better'? Challenge accepted! - he answered.

However, the second attempt didn’t go any better. When Alan died again, the message changed to, "Don’t be a noob, Bro."

Alan face reddened with frustration. "Okay, Bro," he muttered under his breath.

- No way am I letting this game call me a noob. Let's do this! - He turned to the chat, determination blazing in his eyes. -You guys with me? This game’s going down, Bros!

Took a sip of His... beer? He didnt remenber being drinking beer, he didnt even remenber enjoying beer but he was so centred on beating that game that kinda ignored It.

- OOOOOUUURRRP - he belched - dang, sorry bros - he said a bit ashamed... Just a bit. He was too centred to being ashamed.

Meanwhile the coments were going crazy.

"Whats happening With all those 'Bro'? Thats off character"

"@ yourbroski: Nothing to be ashamed! Better out than inside my Bro!"

"Are we sure this Is Alan? Lol"

He keep playing moving his fingers as fast as he could, he was doing Better and when he almost reached the wining flag - a flag decorated only With White and black lines - he got killed by another player.

- Son of a bitch! - he yelled - that motherfucker killed me at the very last BRARRRRP - belched - moment!

"Dont be a pussy" The screen said this time, as knowing he was whining.

- No way this game just called me a "pussy"! - he said ofended - Im not, and in gonna show them all - he said while opening his legs in the chair in a more relaxed position, tooking a moment to scracht his balls in front everybody before starting the new round.

In that position everybody could apreciate some strong arms and legs that people didnt knew Alan had abd Alan didnt remenber to have worked on.

"Sexy" a guy comented.

He was gay, but for some reason reading that from a guy, maked him feel angry.

- Dont be a weirdo, dude - he said

He was gay, right..?

Then started playing again, not releasing every time his character died, a part of His persona did too.

Yelling, coursing, chugging beer and burping, acting with a cocky attitude more and more, every round, less nice, less gay, less him, until...

- BROS, I-OARRRRRP -He couldnt contain a burp - I DID IT!

His character was holding that black and White flag.

"Now youre a real alpha" the tv screen said With that strange music still.

"Now youre the Man of the future"

And with that, the remains of Alan were erased, he didnt remenber being a girly gay guy anymore, he always had been an alpha, a straight, gassy, jock that loved playing videogames and humillating the noobs and "queerdos" on the games.

Alan started doing a "celebration dance" that basically was doing hip moviments to show his bulge. Like he were fucking someone.

- This Is for you, @broski - Alan put His microphone close to his ass and ripped a big, loud, smelly fart on It - i beated you - he said proud. Between laughs he added - Nah, GG bro, youre talented, definetly gonna share It with the bros.

"Whats happening with Him?!' someone comented

"@ yourbroski: That flag send the fag away"

Alan didnt even read those coments, he was busy trying to fan away the fart with his hands.

That Night the strange transformartion of the gay gamer Alan was trending everywhere, but before His friend Group had read something, they receive link to a Game from Alan.

"Alan: Best game of the month broskis"

The group of friends made up of gay guys and nice straight guys thought Alan's writing was odd, but without knowing the situation they gave more atention to the link, opening it, ready to play a life-changing game, "The man of the future."

(This is just fetish writing)

[rod-tf]

Hey I'm a fag looking for a change could help me become a big dumb alpha?

Noah had always prided himself on his intellect. A self-proclaimed progressive thinker, he spent his days debating politics online, scoffing at traditional masculinity, and burying himself in academic texts. But all that changed when he lost a bet with his more athletic roommate, forcing him to complete a full workout at Herculean Gains, a place he normally would have mocked for its “toxic masculinity.”

As he stepped inside, his small frame seemed even more fragile against the towering racks of weights and muscle-bound titans grunting with effort. He tugged at his oversized hoodie, feeling out of place, but before he could turn and run, a deep, commanding voice stopped him.

“Yo, what’s up, man? You new here?”

Noah turned to see a hulking mass of muscle smirking down at him. Rod was everything Noah wasn’t, tall, broad, radiating confidence with his square jaw, short preppy cut, and gym tank barely containing his chiseled physique. The air around him was thick with sweat and something more primal.

“I, uh, yeah. Just checking the place out,” Noah muttered, his voice small.

Rod chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, I could tell". Said the huge man, kind of in a mocking tone. "You look like you’ve never even touched a dumbbell”.

Something about Rod’s presence made Noah’s knees weak, though not in the way he expected. He followed the jock hesitantly, the scent of Rod’s sweat filling his nostrils as they moved toward the free weights. It was overwhelming, intoxicating. His thoughts felt... strange.

“Alright, first thing’s first, bench press. Builds power, makes you a beast.” Rod slapped the bench. “Hop on, bro.”

Noah obeyed, feeling oddly compelled. Rod leaned over him to spot, and as he did, the full force of his scent hit Noah like a wave. Musky, raw, overpowering. It seeped into his skin, into his mind. His fingers twitched around the barbell.

“Oops, sorry man”. Rod said absentmindedly. “This is what real strength smells like.”

Noah groaned softly as something stirred deep within him. A warmth, a pressure, a hunger he didn’t recognize. He lifted the bar, feeling an unfamiliar energy surge through his limbs. His arms looked... different. Slightly thicker, veins subtly more pronounced. His skin, was it darker? A golden hue, like he’d spent hours in the sun, though he never tanned.

Rod grinned. “There we go, bro. See? You got it in you.”

They moved to curls, then squats, then deadlifts. With each set, Noah inhaled more of Rod’s scent, his body growing warmer, tighter, stronger. His hoodie felt stifling, and when he peeled it off, he barely recognized the reflection in the mirror. His pale, skinny arms had taken on a richer bronze hue, a new density to them. His shoulders looked broader, more defined. His jaw felt... sharper. His hair darker, the once soft brown was now deep, almost black, thickening into something wavier, more unruly.

Something was wrong, but it felt so right.

Rod gave a knowing smirk. “Feeling it now, huh?”

Noah nodded slowly, his thoughts clouding. His voice cracked. “Yeah, bro. Feels... good.”

Rod laughed, clapping him on the back. “Told ya, gym life changes a guy.” He flexed absentmindedly, completely unaware of just how literal his words were.

As his muscles grew, so did something else, his instincts, his mindset. His once sharp, overanalyzing brain felt slower, but in a good way, less cluttered, more focused. He wasn’t worrying about nonsense anymore. Just gains. Strength. And... girls. Yeahhh! Hot, tight-bodied chicks who needed a real man to handle them. He could practically see them in his mind, his need for them growing with every breath he took.

He felt a rush of testosterone, a heat in his core that burned away any trace of hesitation. Noé smirked at himself in the mirror. Damn, he looked good. Not just jacked, but powerful. The kind of guy who took what he wanted, who dominated everything he wanted. Who made women weak in the knees just by looking at them.

Rod tossed him a towel. “Shower up, bro. Let it soak in.”

Noé caught his reflection in the mirror again, and his breath hitched. His soft features had hardened into something rugged, masculine. His skin, once pale, now held a deep bronze hue, darkening with every passing moment. His delicate hands had thickened, calloused fingers twitching with an unfamiliar craving. His lean frame had swelled, pecs forming, arms thick with new muscle. His soft voice had deepened, gaining a smooth but confident edge.

Memories blurred and shifted. His family had always been American, sure, but his roots? He could feel them now, deep in his blood. Strong, dominant, latino men. Hard workers who built their legacy with their bare hands. He’d grown up in a traditional household, taught that men provided, protected, and bred. Yeah, that’s what he was meant for. Not wasting time debating politics or worrying about dumb social issues. He was born to lead, to conquer, to make women his.

But it wasn’t just that. He felt disgust at anything weak, anything pathetic. Nerds, soy boys, gays... ugh, even thinking about them made his lip curl. He couldn’t understand why would he ever needed to tolerate that kind of degeneracy. He had always been like this. A strong, dominant alpha, a real man. The idea of ever being anything less, being some weak, scrawny, gay loser? That was unthinkable. Impossible. It wasn’t him. It had never been him.

Rod clapped him on the back, grinning. “Looking great, hermano.”

Noé smirked, flexing in the mirror, rolling his shoulders. He felt powerful, unstoppable. The scent of musk, sweat, and raw testosterone filled his nostrils. And it smelled like home.

He scoffed, getting like a really weak voice telling him he want like that, he was a liberal gay proud man. That nonsense was for beta males, for the spineless. He was a real man now. A true conservative man with conservative values, machismo, strength, family, tradition. Those were the pillars of a real man’s life. Not softness. Not weakness. And thinking too much? That was for losers. Real men followed their instincts. Real men didn’t waste time debating, they acted. He had gains to make and pussies to fuck.

Noé smirked and cracked his knuckles, his thick, muscular frame exuding dominance. He had only one goal now, to claim, conquer, and spread his legacy. He wasn’t just a man, he was the most macho man. The world was his playground, and he was ready to take what was his.

Hope you enjoy your new much better self, see you at the gym or scoring some pussy at a frat party. -Rod

[villainous-homosexual]

Young, Dumb, and full of Cum. Submitting to Christ is so much fun.💪✝️🇺🇸

[fratttymatty]

MorphMe

(All characters are 18+)

Elliot Hart was the definition of niche. A 20-year-old computer science major with a stack of anime Blu-rays, a Bernie Sanders sticker on his laptop, and more Funko Pops than friends. He was proudly gay, proudly nerdy, and proudly convinced that his brain was his best asset. His social life consisted mostly of online forums and heated Reddit debates about politics and Star Wars continuity.

One evening, as he scrolled through a lesser-known app store to find some quirky productivity tools, a strange app caught his eye: "MorphMe: Update Your Self". It had zero reviews, a glowy blue icon, and a tagline that read: “Be the you you’ve never met.”

Elliot raised an eyebrow. “Sounds dystopian. Love it.”

He downloaded the app.

Upon opening it, a series of sliders and checkboxes appeared on screen. Gender: Male. Sexual Orientation: Gay. Intelligence: 100%. Appearance: Twink. Personality: Cute.

He chuckled and set everything just right, including a little sparkle emoji next to “cute.” Then he hit “Confirm.”

The screen glitched. Hard.

Lines of code zipped across the screen. A notification popped up: "Applying New Settings..."

Suddenly Elliot’s phone vibrated violently. He dropped it as a bright flash filled the room. When he opened his eyes…

Everything had changed.

He sat up in bed — a bed that was now massive, messy, and covered in protein bar wrappers and gym shorts. The posters of Studio Ghibli were gone, replaced with flags: American flags, Gadsden flags, and a giant Sigma Alpha Theta frat banner. The air smelled like Axe body spray and whey powder.

Elliot… wasn’t Elliot anymore.

He was Chad.

Literally. His phone buzzed with a message:

"Yo CHAD bro, kegger tonight at Mike’s. Bring Stacy 🍑🍒"

He stood and caught his reflection in the mirror. Shaggy dirty-blonde hair, rippling muscles, tanned skin, a backwards cap, and not a hint of irony anywhere. His rainbow pride pin had been replaced by a “Don’t Tread on Me” button. His brain felt… lighter? Not stupid, just… breezy. Like algebra was a foreign language, but chugging beer and flexing came second nature.

“Dude… sick,” he said to no one, admiring his pecs. His voice was a deep, confident baritone — not a trace of his former nasally tone.

He opened his closet: polos, tank tops, khakis, and way too many pairs of Oakleys. No more anime tees. No more cardigans. No more Bernie.

And… he didn’t miss them.

Later that day, Chad strolled across campus, his arm wrapped around Stacy, a blonde with lips so glossy they could reflect sunlight. She was chirping away:

“Baaaabe, we totes have to go to Cancun for spring break! Like, it’s gonna be sooo wild. You, me, margaritas, and like, no thoughts. Just vibes.”

He laughed. “Hell yeah, babe. Cancun sounds hella rad.”

He didn’t remember Elliot. He didn’t remember being gay. All he knew was the gym, the frat, and how Stacy looked in a bikini. He fist-bumped his new bros, cracked open a Bud Light (Ironically, he hated IPAs now), and settled into his life.

He never opened the MorphMe app again.

Because as far as Chad was concerned — this? This was who he was always meant to be.

[patriotictf]

Daniel, who had recently joined the army. He had enlisted thinking that he would finally be free to be himself now that the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy had been repealed. But as soon as he arrived to his training camp, he was immediately met with hostility and intolerance from his fellow soldiers.

One night, Daniel was attacked by a group of soldiers who had been watching him closely. They cornered him in his barracks room and began to physically and emotionally abuse him. They taunted him for being gay, and made it clear that he was not welcome in their ranks.

Despite the abuse, Daniel tried to stay strong and not let the bullies get to him. But over time, the psychological trauma of the attacks and the constant bullying wore him down. He felt isolated, alone, and completely overwhelmed.

Daniel finally couldn't take it any longer and decided to speak with his commanding officer. He nervously approached his office and knocked on the door.

The commanding officer looked up from his desk when Daniel entered. "What can I do for you, soldier?" he asked, sounding bored.

Daniel struggled to find the words, feeling scared and humiliated. "Sir, I need to speak to you about something important," he said finally.

The officer leaned back in his chair and studied Daniel for a moment. "Go on," he said gruffly.

Daniel took a deep breath. "I'm being harassed and attacked by some of the other soldiers," he said. "It's because I'm gay."

The officer's demeanor changed instantly. A look of disdain crossed his face. "Is that so?" he sneered. "And what do you expect me to do about that?"

Daniel felt his heart drop. He had been hoping for support, but he could tell right away that he wouldn't be getting any from this man. "I don't know," he said quietly. "I thought maybe you could help me."

The officer let out a derisive scoff. "Help you? Help you how? You enlisted in the Army, soldier. You knew what you were signing up for. If you can't handle a few insults and some roughhousing, then maybe you aren't cut out to be here in the first place."

The commanding officer looked at Daniel with a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. "Lucky for you soldier," he said, "there's a new program that might just help you."Daniel felt a flicker of hope at the officer's words. "What kind of program?" he asked.

"It's a special rehabilitation program that was created by President Trump," the officer explained. "It's designed to help soldiers like you who are experiencing difficulties adjusting to military life."

Daniel was taken back by the mention of Trump's name. He had seen the President speak publicly against gay rights countless times. But he was desperate for help, so he kept his mouth shut. "What kind of program is it exactly?" he asked cautiously.

"Well, it's a combination of training and counseling, designed to help soldiers like yourself overcome their personal issues and become better soldiers," the officer said, his tone patronizing. "It's a win-win situation, really. You get the help you need, and we get a soldier who can perform his duties without being distracted by his own personal problems."

Daniel felt a wave of trepidation wash over him. He had a feeling that this "program" was not going to be about helping him, but rather about trying to force him to conform to a specific set of beliefs. But he didn't see any other choice. "When do I start?"

The officer smiled slightly, clearly pleased with James' response. "0-500," he said abruptly. "Pack your things and get ready to report to the rehabilitation unit. You'll be staying there for the duration of the program."

Daniel nodded and left the office, feeling like he had just made a deal with the devil. He had a sinking feeling deep in his gut that this "program" was going to change him in ways he couldn't imagine.

The next morning, Daniel packed his belongings and reported to the rehabilitation unit as instructed. He was met by a no-nonsense military official who introduced himself as the unit's director.

"Welcome to the Trump Rehabilitation Unit, soldier," the director said bluntly. "We're going to be spending a lot of time together, so let's get a few things straight."

"First and foremost, I want to make one thing clear," the director continued. "You are here because you have some issues that need to be addressed. We're going to help you overcome those issues and become a better soldier. But we are doing this on our terms, and we expect Compliance."

The director's words sent a chill down Daniel's spine. He had a feeling that he was about to be subjected to a barrage of anti-gay rhetoric and propaganda. "Yes sir," he said again, feeling powerless.

"Good," the director said with a nod. "Now, there are a few rules that you'll need to follow while you're here."

The director then rattled off a list of rules, each one more restrictive than the last. James felt like he was being turned into a mindless machine, stripped of his individuality and autonomy.

The director went on to explain the structure of the program, which would involve days full of physical drills and weapons training, followed by evening "counseling sessions" that sounded more like political indoctrination sessions.

Daniel felt sick to his stomach. He knew that he had gotten himself into a dangerous situation, but he didn't see any way out. He was stuck in this program, and he had no choice but to comply with whatever they threw at him.

The first few days in the unit were brutal. Every waking moment was spent on physical drills and weapons training. Daniel was pushed to his limits both physically and mentally, and he felt like he was slowly losing his sense of self.

But the evenings were even more torturous. The "counseling sessions" were led by a stern instructor who spewed forth anti-gay and conservative rhetoric. Daniel felt like he was under a constant barrage of propaganda, trying to break down his beliefs and force him into conformity.

The instructor frequently disparaged Daniel sexuality, calling it a weakness and a liability. Daniel was required to sit and listen to the insults and insults without protest or complaint.

The constant barrage of insults and propaganda slowly wore down Daniel resistance. He felt himself begin to internalize the message that his sexuality was wrong and that he needed to change. Slowly but surely, the program was doing its job.

Despite his struggles, Daniel tried to hold onto his true self. He would sometimes find brief moments of solitude to reflect on his identity. But the program was tightly controlled and monitored. Any hint of independent thought was quickly squashed.

He felt isolated, alone, and completely powerless. The program had stripped him of his personality, his beliefs, and his very identity. All that was left was a soldier who was conditioned to follow the line of the GOP.

Daniel stood in front of the mirror, staring at his reflection. His eyes looked dead, devoid of any hint of individuality or soul. He barely recognized himself anymore. He was a far cry from the man he used to be.

The constant barrage of insults and conditioning had finally taken its toll on Daniel. His mind had finally broken. He had become a loyal soldier, fully indoctrinated into conservative ideology, with no memory of who he use to be before the program.

Daniel had lost himself completely, but he didn't care. He had become soldier 2318 a true believer in the cause of the party, and he was proud to be a part of it. He was no longer a gay man; he was a soldier, a tool for the Trump administration. And he was content with that. In the depths of his mind, the last embers of individuality, the last flicker of his true self, flickered out. Daniel was no more only Soldier 2318.

Soldier 2318 took out his phone and snapped a photo of himself, staring blankly at the camera lens. He looked at the image for a moment, then tucked his phone into his pocket and headed out to report for duty.

As he marched through the corridors of the base, he felt a strange sense of detachment from himself, a feeling of being completely divorced from his old identity. He was now and henceforth completely loyal to the Republican cause.

He reported to his commanding officer and stood at attention, waiting for orders. His commanding officer looked him up and down, taking in his blank expression and robotic demeanor.

"At ease, soldier," the officer said gruffly.

Soldier 2318 relaxed his stance, but his blank expression didn't change. He waited for the officer's orders, feeling completely devoid of any hint of emotion or personality.

Soldier 2318 nodded obediently, his eyes dull and unfeeling. "Yes sir, the program has been very effective," he said in a monotone voice.

The commanding officer studied him for a moment, then nodded in satisfaction. "Good, good," he said gruffly. "You're shaping up to be a fine soldier. We need more men like you willing to stand up for the GOP and our values."

"Yes sir," Soldier 2318 replied obediently, feeling a sense of pride in being praised for his loyalty to the Republican cause. "I am ready to serve the party and defend its values at all costs. what is my mission?"

The officer smirked. "That's what I like to hear," he said gruffly. "You've got a lot of potential, soldier." He then handed Soldier 2318 a file containing his new mission information.

Soldier 2318 took the file and opened it, reading through the information on his new assignment. His eyes scanned over the details, taking in every word. He had absolutely no doubts, no questions, and no reservations about what he was being asked to do. He was completely and utterly devoted to the cause of the Republican Party.

"This is your assignment, soldier," the officer said gruffly. "I expect nothing but the best from you. You're one of our best now, and you need to prove it on this mission."

"Yes sir," Soldier 2318 replied obediently. "I will complete the mission to the best of my abilities. The Republican cause is my top priority, and nothing will deter me from fulfilling my duties."

[devonpink]

Redpill.MP4

"Hey, Dad! You gotta see this cool video!" Steven's son enthusiastically called out to him, annoyingly so.

With a heavy breath, Steven reluctantly walked over to his son, knowing it was gonna be another one of those stupid YouTube videos only brain-dead kids enjoy. As his son passed his messy iPad over to him, he was immediately sucker punched by the hypnotic bright lights and loud sounds coming from the video.

In less than a second, Steven was completely under, taking in every vibrant color and sound. Just as predicted, it was a mind-mushing video, but in the literal sense: Redpill.MP4. It was reprogramming his mind, just as it did his son's, destroying and rebuilding all his beliefs and way of thinking. He was being turned from a liberal into an extremely right-leaning conservative and It felt fantastic. He couldn't help but moan and drool like a dumb ass!

Steven chuckled dumbly, his brain as smooth as butter. "That was awesome, son! Let's so show it to your brother!!!"