tfenjoyer96

[tfenjoyer96]

Office Fun

Kyle wouldn't necessarily say he hated his job just the people he worked with.

It seemed like no one in the office could get along, and this was largely due to their boss, Mr. Harmen.

Mr Harmen was your everyday sleaze bag, smug, liked to overwork his employees, at least 60 years old, thin and frail, balding greasey hair, gnarly teeth, the whole shebang.

Fortunately Mr. Harmen had been on a 14 day vacation and the office was more peaceful than ever, unfortunately today would his first day back.

Kyle sat down at his desk and braced himself for the inevitable chaos he knew would soon ensue.

Kyle hurriedly ate his lunch which consisted of a container of yogurt and four crackers.

Mr. Harmen didn't give his employees lunch times nor were they allowed to leave the office to eat, so they had to fit in meals when they could get them.

Kyle had always been on the thinner side, tall and lanky but since working for Mr. Harmen he's been his smallest.

It's seems you can't pack on or keep on much weight if you barely have time to eat at work and are too tired to eat after.

As Kyle finished his report and sent a draft to Mr. Harmen he received a call.

"Yes Kyle I need you in my office immediately." said Mr. Harmen, stern and quick.

"Ugh." Kyle dreaded having to see Mr. Harmen, surely he wanted to complain about Kyle's work.

Kyle slowly made his way to Mr Harmen's office, purposefully dragging his steps.

"Yes Kyle, come in." said Mr. Harmen as Kyle lightly knocked on his office door.

As Kyle opened Mr. Harmen's door he was hit with a strange pungent wind and with it a strange tingling in his pants, that Kyle simply ignored.

The air was warm and smelled of BO and food, like pizza and greasey burgers.

As Kyle walked in Mr. Harmen noticed him trying to hold his breath.

"Don't be silly Kyle breathe, you can't possibly expect to hold your breath the entire time you're in here, right?"

"Sorry sir it's just-" Kyle began, embarrassed.

"It's fine son, I know it's a little intense in here at the moment." Said Mr. Harmen, cutting the young man off.

Kyle, looking up beginning to speak, immediately choking on his words in shock. "I-I-I uhhhh."

"Yes I know I do look quite different" Mr Harmen began with a chuckle.

Quite different was an understatement Kyle thought to himself.

Mr. Harmen was practically a new person. He looked decades younger, maybe mid thirties.

Mr. Harmen's hair was still greasey but now it was fuller, he was no longer balding, though it was wet with sweat. His teeth were straighter but just as yellow as they were before.

But Mr. Harmen's biggest change was his weight. He had to be over a hundred pounds heavier than when Kyle last saw him, an impossible feat for only two weeks.

Though Mr. Harmen was seemingly still trying to fit into an old suit of his, straining it and leaving nothing to the imagination.

Mr. Harmen got up from his desk and walked over to a pair of chairs with small coffee tables on either side of them, offering Kyle a seat across from him.

"Uh-uh yes sir." Kyle said awkwardly.

"Now the reason I called you in here today-" Mr. Harmen began.

"Because you're upset with my work?" responded Kyle disappointedly.

"What?! Ha ha! No." laughed Mr. Harmen.

"Actually I wanted to offer you a promotion."

"What?!" yelled Kyle, raising from his chair in a state of confusion.

"Yes son, you heard me correctly. And it comes with a huge benefits increase."

"Oh wow. W-what are the benefits?" said Kyle, now slumped in his chair, still in a state of shock and confusion, he had always thought Mr. Harmen hated him.

"Well for starters you'd get to stay with me in my house."

"What?! I - I don't want to live with you!" said Kyle annoyed.

"Well you know I have a very big house and I already have a few pigs living with me-".

"Yes I'm well aware of the size of your mansion sir-Wait! A few what living with you?"

"Look, Kyle" began Mr. Harmen, ignoring Kyle's question.

Mr Harmen raised his arms as if stretching, Kyle could see large wet spots in each pit, the heat seems to be getting to Mr. Harmen too.

As Mr Harmen raised his arms Kyle was hit with a large, pungent aroma. He began to feel a twitching in his pants. Was his penis semi-erect right now? Kyle thought to himself.

"I know you need the money, I mean you're one of my best, smartest, and hardest working employees and you can barley afford your one bedroom apartment, hahahahaha." Mr. Harmen began to laugh.

Kyle was infuriated, Mr. Harmen was laughing at him to his face! He wanted to punch Mr. Harmen in his smug grinning face, but... Couldn't. Instead Kyle began touching himself.

Along with he fury and anger at feeling humiliated came arousal. Kyle was so turned on at the thought of Mr. Harmen humiliating him. He was so much better than him after all.

Mr Harmen was big and powerful and smelled like a proper powerful man should, Kyle on the other hand was small and weak.

Oh what was he thinking? Kyle couldn't believe what was going through his mind he hated Mr. Harmen but that seemed to turn him on all the more.

Mr. Harmen seemingly took note of Kyle's state, looking down to see Kyle messaging his member and smirking.

"Don't you want to be my assistant?" Mr Harmen asked.

"A-a assistant?" Kyle began.

"Why so you can have me run around for you while practically paying me nothing?" Kyle began still messaging his member.

"Well what need will you have for money when I can provide everything for you?" Said Mr. Harmen

"You'll live with me and I'll provide free food, not just for you, but all my employees, I'm having the entire first floor tranformed into a free all you can eat food court."

"I'll also need to install more elevators, I wouldn't expect my piggies to walk all the way to the food court and back now, would I?" continued Mr. Harmen with a wicked grin.

"W-why do you keep saying that? pigs?"

"Well because you are my pigs, all of you, or at least you will be, I mean you already smell like one." retorted Mr. Harmen.

Kyle paused then raised his arm. Dammit! Mr. Harmen was right. It's this heat, it's making Kyle sweat profusely.

"See that's the spirit, I knew you were enjoying it."

"What?" Kyle thought to himself, and then he realized he had been sniffing his armpit while messaging his cock through his pants.

"No-no-no I-" Kyle began to protest.

"Look Kyle, there's no use in resisting I know you want this. You see, when I was on vacation I went to a new experimental farm of sorts. They taught me this new way of doing things". Began Mr. Harmen.

"You see I became this thing called the Alfa, as you've noticed I look and smell different. It's all part of the process and my pheromones." Mr. Harmen continued.

"And as the Alfa I can create other pigs by imbuing them with my pheromones, making them fatter, stinkier, sweatier... Hornier." Mr Harmen said with a smirk.

"Think of it like I'm Dracula and I can make more vampires. I can make drones, they're sort of like bees, they do what I say and work but they also keep their intelligence and have their own minds, for the most part but can't resist me."

"And the other type of pigs I make are Betas, they become dumber, lose much of their intelligence, and they're the most obedient, horniest, neediest, and greediest of them all."

"And that's what I'm going to make you Kyle, a beta piggie bitch."

"What?!" Kyle Kyle screamed, propelling himself from the chair he was sitting in, shocked. Simultaneously however, Mr. Harmen's words had caused Kyle to cum in his pants right there, the orgasm making him fall to his knees.

As Kyle looked up he was met face to face with Mr. Harmen's crotch, damp from sweat, and bulging.

Mr. Harmen grabbed his member through his pants as he said "Don't you want to come be my piggie Kyle?"

Kyle couldn't contain himself any longer, he heaved himself upon his boss, shoving his face into Mr. Harmen's lap and began sniffing aggressively like a deranged bloodhound.

He inhaled deeply savoring the scents. Musk, sweat, cum and piss, Fuck! Kyle needed his member NOW!

"That's right piggie" said Mr Harmen with a grin.

"Eat." said Mr. Harmen and with these words Kyle became feral, hurriedly undoing his bosses pants, pulling his cock and balls through the tight briefs.

Kyle first began licking Mr. Harmen's balls savoring the earthy, salty taste. Feeling the course pubic hairs across his tongue.

"Fuck yeah pig, you like this don't you? Being my servant. Hating me deep down and yet knowing your only purpose is to serve me, someone so much better and greater than yourself.

"mmmm" Kyle moaned at Mr. Harmen's hurtful words. "F-F-FUCK yessss..."

Kyle moved on to Mr. Harmen's member it wasn't obnoxiously long, nearly five inches, but it was THICK, Kyle couldn't fit his entire hand around it, and yet took it into his jaw like a pelican.

"Ohhh yes fat boy, squeel for me piggie" said Mr. Harmen in ecstasy.

And as if with no control over his functions Kyle began snorting and squeeling like the pig he knew he was.

Mr. Harmen tried to hold his load as long as possible, but as he looked down at Kyle's face, seeing how hungry and pathetic he was for his cock he came, shooting load after thick load into Kyle's mouth, unable to contain his vigor.

Kyle stood and began tripping backwards, as he felt a strange spell begin to take place over his body, finally tripping and falling back into his chair, with a loud, long fart escaping his body on impact.

"Oh god-" Kyle began.

The effects were near instantaneous.

Kyle felt his stomach pushing to lurch forward, his belly expanding, straining his suit vest, his thighs widening, and bulbous ass expanding.

Kyle's bird chest inflating with large moobs, the twigs he once called arms inflating with flab, his cheeks inflating like balloons, and his second chin filling in and pushing against his suit collar, forcing him to raise his head and loosen his tie, his neck quickly disappearing.

Kyle's neck wasn't the only thing to disappear though, his intelligence quickly faded, years of school teaching gone, basic math became a triumph, he wasn't sure he could do anything past first grade level, his reading speed and literacy slowed substantially, he was now your everyday idiot.

Now he'd be good for nothing but sex, eating, chores, and running Mr. Harmen's errands.

"Look at you pig." Mr. Harmen began, strutting toward Kyle.

"God you stink too, and what was that, at LEAST over 200 pounds gained, that's the quickest transformation I've seen yet."

"Get up pig" Mr. Harmen said harshly as he forced Kyle from his seat.

"Oh look at you, you're dripping with sweat."

Mr. Harmen was right, immediately after Kyle's transformation his ass was soaked with sweat, he couldn't possibly walk through the office like this, it's humiliating, and Kyle's cock twitched at the thought of what everyone would say about his huge sweaty ass and smell.

"Unfortunately for you, but fortunately for me you're going to have to get used to this swamp ass, it's permanent, not to mention it works as a natural lubricant." said Mr. Harmen

"Oh my! The effects on you were quite strong." continued Mr. Harmen as he walked past Kyle's chair.

"This chair reeks and you weren't in it for more than three minutes after your transformation! " yelled Mr Harmen, causing Kyle to blush.

"And it appears I still haven't punished you for making me cum so early... Get in there piggie!" Mr Harmen yelled, as he grabbed Kyle by the neck and threw him into his chair face first.

"Get in there smell your ass stink!" said Mr. Harmen, smothering Kyle's face into the seat.

Kyle's cock sprung to life, though much shorter than it had been earlier that day.

Kyle began snorting crazily like a hungry pig being fed.

"Oh you like that huh piglet? Well you better get used to it because from now on nothing will be able to get rid of your stink, not even a shower." said Mr. Harmen with a crazed look on his face.

"Fuck yes!" exclaimed Kyle excitedly.

Mr. Harmen began grinding against Kyle's fat ass, causing it to bounce and jiggle wildly.

Mr. Harmen tore down Kyle's tight pants, struggling to get the too small garments over Kyle's bulbous ass and down his thick, hefty thighs.

Mr. Harmen slid his cock into Kyle's virgin ass, easily penetrating his hole thanks to the slippery sweat enveloping his mountainous ass, acting as lube.

Mr. Harmen began fucking the young man, rhythmically moving his hips back and forth.

"fuck, fuck yes yes *snort* *snort*" moaned Kyle as his prostate was expertly messaged by Mr. Harmen and his anal walls ravaged by the thick cock.

"god you like that you little piggie don't you?!"

"Yes Alfa! Yes Sir!" Kyle screeched, panting like a bitch in heat.

Mr. Harmen looked down to witness the shining mounds of ass, clapping themselves against his abdomen. His belly resting perfectly on Kyle's wide lower back, as the boys cheeks jiggled wildly.

Mr. Harmen felt himself about to cum and began fucking Kyle harder and faster.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!" Kyle began squeeling as he felt Mr. Harmen nearly breaking his back. But god did the large man feel so good inside of Kyle's ass. Kyle couldn't believe what he had been missing out on.

Mr. Harmen flipped Kyle over, god he was strong Kyle had to be at least three hundred pounds.

Mr. Harmen began to make out with Kyle, the slapped him and as he came in Kyle's ass, he spit on his face.

"There bitch" Mr. Harmen said as he extracted himself from the boy's hole.

As the cum entered Kyle's ass he felt himself grow even wider, his belly lurching out his tits sagging, going from D cups to G's, his suit vest popping off completely, and his third chin beginning to come in under the second.

Mr. Harmen made note of Kyle's ass expanding and inflating even larger, filling with beautiful delicious cellulite, he couldn't wait to fuck it again.

"Look what you made me do piggie, I made a mess, clean it up!" Mr. Harmen yelled, grabbing Kyle by the neck, pushing him down to his cock and cleaning it off with his mouth, then making the young man lick his cum up from the floor.

This made Kyle fill out a little more ever so slightly but not much.

Mr. Harmen reached into the cavern that was Kyle's ass crack and dug out a handful of cum and wiped it on the boys face.

Mr. Harmen stood up and forced Kyle onto his feet, slapping him on the ass and saying "get me some food, pig I haven't eaten in nearly an hour, I'll take a large pizza, four burgers, a large fry, two shakes, one chocolate, one vanilla, and a whole cherry pie with extra whip cream."

"Get yourself something too fatso and I mean a meal, a big one you're a grown man, no more yogurt and crackers. And don't forget my coffee!" said Mr. Harmen as he handed Kyle a credit card

"Yes sir." Kyle walked to the door and bent down to attempt to pull his pants up but was stopped by Mr. Harmen.

"What do you think you're doing pig?! Leave them down, I want EVERYONE to see what I did to your nasty fatass."

"But, what if I trip sir?" inquired Kyle

"Well let's hope you do, I think everyone will get a good laugh at your fat greedy ass falling carrying multiple bags FULL of food hahaha. But if you do fall you'd BETTER replace my food I'm STARVING! Now go fatass!"

"Yes Alfa" said Kyle sheepishly, waddling away.

[tfenjoyer96]

Diego’s Roommate

Cody struggled against the thick ropes binding his wrists to the back of the wooden chair, the coarse hemp cutting into his pale skin. His breathing was ragged, eyes wide and glassy with panic as he stared across the cramped, dim dorm room. The overhead light flickered intermittently, casting Cruz’s broad silhouette in twitching shadows across the walls. Cruz had always been a bit… off. Diego used to joke that his roommate was born in the wrong decade—that if it were up to him, every dorm would be one giant locker room. The guy stank like he bathed in his own sweat and wore it like cologne. Cody never liked him, but he never thought he’d end up like this: restrained and helpless, watching as his boyfriend was dragged toward something unthinkable.

“Let him go,” Cody spat, his voice cracking with desperation. “You don’t have to do this!”

Cruz didn’t even glance back. He stood in front of Diego, who was shirtless and breathing hard, his cheeks flushed with confusion and anger. Diego’s dark curls clung damp to his forehead, and his chest rose and fell like he’d just finished running. He looked scared, but not scared enough. Not yet.

“He’s still got that softness in him,” Cruz muttered, lifting one of his battered soccer cleats and pressing it to his own nose, inhaling deeply like it was the finest cigar. “But don’t worry. We’ll fix that.”

(Cruz)

“Diego, don’t breathe in. Don’t listen to him!” Cody shouted, writhing in his restraints. “You know who you are. You’re not—whatever he’s trying to make you.”

But Diego just stood there, staring at the shoe Cruz held out like it was… calling to him.

“It’s just sweat, man,” Diego mumbled, uncertain, but not pulling away. “It’s just a smell.”

“No,” Cruz grinned. “It’s the smell of manhood.”

He pressed the cleat to Diego’s face with a sudden, aggressive push, and Diego gagged—then coughed. Then inhaled. The change wasn’t immediate. It never was. That’s what made it worse. Cody could only watch, his stomach twisting in horror as Diego blinked slowly, nostrils flaring. His face contorted with disgust for a second—then something changed. His eyes unfocused, the pupils dilating just a bit too wide.

“Smells… strong,” Diego murmured. He tried to shake it off, but Cruz was ready. He pressed the cleat in harder, practically grinding the sole into Diego’s face.

“Breathe deep, bro. Let it in. Let it show you what you really are under all that fake polish. All that weak-ass love-boy crap.”

“Don’t listen to him!” Cody cried. “You’re not like that! You’re kind, you’re smart—”

But Diego had stopped listening. A low, shuddering breath rolled through his lungs, and his body trembled. He tried to pull away, but Cruz grabbed the back of his head and forced it back down into the cleat. The air was thick with the smell of dried sweat, mildew, and aged leather. Diego moaned—but it wasn’t just in discomfort. There was something else beneath it. Something closer to need.

Cruz leaned in, his voice practically a growl. “That’s it. Let that fog in. It’s already starting, isn’t it? The ache in your brain? The way things don’t matter like they used to? You think Cody matters? He’s just noise. What you need—what you are—is something better.”

Diego staggered back, gasping, but he didn’t fall. He stood there, wobbling slightly, eyes unfocused. One hand moved down to his waistband, shifting slightly as if—

No. No. Cody shook his head, tears in his eyes. “Diego, please. Look at me. You love me. Remember?”

For a moment, a flicker of something real sparked in Diego’s eyes. His mouth opened. “Cody… I…”

Then Cruz was there again, shirtless now, his glistening pit shoved right up to Diego’s nose.

“Round two,” he growled. “Go on. Breathe in deep. This is what being a real man smells like.”

Diego froze—then crumpled into it. Cody could only watch as Diego slumped against the wall, his chest heaving, lips parted as if struggling to suck in clean air. But Cruz was already there, one meaty arm curled around his shoulder like a vice, pinning him in place. The scent of his armpit lingered in the room like a thick haze—pungent, musky, and strangely sweet in its rot. Cody’s stomach twisted. It wasn’t just the smell—it was what it meant. That odor was doing something. Twisting Diego, seeping into him.

“You good, bro?” Cruz muttered into Diego’s ear, loud enough for Cody to hear. “Starting to feel it now? That burn in your lungs? That itch in your brain?”

Diego’s voice was hoarse. “It’s… I dunno. I feel hot. My head’s like… fuzzy.”

Cody leaned forward in his restraints, shaking his head. “That’s not you, baby. It’s not real! You’re just being drugged or—brainwashed or something, you have to fight it!”

But Diego didn’t look at him. He looked at Cruz.

“What’s happening to me?” Diego asked, voice trembling.

Cruz grinned, full teeth. “You’re just waking up, hermano. Shedding all that weak, soft crap. That boyfriend. That college-boy future. That tight little guilt you carry around.”

Diego flinched. But he didn’t pull away. Cruz leaned in again, letting a slow, wet drip of sweat slide from his pit down onto Diego’s shoulder. “And you’re gonna let it happen. You’re gonna let go. Bit by bit. You don’t need to think so hard anymore. Just feel.”

Diego’s body twitched. His back arched slightly, like he was stretching against invisible restraints. A sound escaped him—half grunt, half moan. He rubbed the back of his hand across his nose, sniffling. Still breathing it in. His abs flexed—not with effort, but with growth. Cody’s eyes widened. Diego had always been fit, sure—swam in high school, hit the gym casually—but this was different. His stomach twitched again, muscle thickening in slow pulses, veins rising under the skin like roots crawling from under the surface. His lats widened slightly, pushing his arms out just a bit further from his sides.

He stared down at his own torso, eyes wide. “What the hell…?”

“It’s the man-fog, bro,” Cruz murmured, voice like a prayer. “Ain’t just a smell. It’s change. It’s what you were meant to be.”

Cody screamed, voice cracking. “Diego, don’t let it win! That’s not you! You’re smart, you’re kind, you’re not—this!”

Diego flinched again—but he still didn’t look at Cody. His hand dropped to his waistband. Cruz saw it and laughed, low and rough.

“Oh yeah. You’re feelin’ it now.”

Diego swallowed hard. “I feel… weird. Like I wanna… stretch or fight or just… I dunno. Do something.”

Cruz’s grin widened. “Your brain’s getting lighter, isn’t it? No more overthinking. No more feelings. Just sweat, and meat, and need. You’re almost there.”

“I don’t… I don’t wanna hurt him,” Diego muttered, eyes flicking toward Cody just for a moment.

But Cruz was ready. He grabbed Diego’s face and shoved it deep into his pit. This time, Diego didn’t resist. The sound he made was obscene—wet, muffled, like a moan buried in a grunt. His fingers dug into Cruz’s side, clinging there as he inhaled again, and again, and again. Cody turned away, his heart pounding so loud it drowned out the room. He wanted to scream, to throw up, to run, but he couldn’t do anything but watch as his boyfriend drowned in the scent. The muscles swelled faster now. Diego’s traps thickened, shoulders bulking outward. His skin glistened with sweat that wasn’t his a moment ago. His jaw clenched, sharpening. The softness in his features—the gentle, thoughtful glow—melted away under a sheen of testosterone-fueled hunger. He was panting when Cruz finally let him go.

Cruz leaned in, brushing a thumb across Diego’s cheek. “You’re gonna forget him soon. That little twink tied up in the chair? He’s just background noise now. You don’t date guys, bro. You don’t even like ‘em.”

Diego’s voice was different now. Thicker. Slower. “Nah, man… I don’t—” He shook his head. “I don’t swing that way.”

His eyes flicked to Cody. And for the first time…They weren’t eyes of love. They were eyes of confusion. Disgust.

“Why’s he tied up?”

Cody’s breath caught in his throat.

Cruz chuckled. “Don’t worry about it, bro. He’s just someone you used to know. Before you woke up.”

Diego nodded slowly. “Yeah… before I got fuckin’ real.”

Cody’s mouth was dry. He couldn’t speak anymore—not because he didn’t want to, but because the words wouldn’t come. His throat was raw from screaming, and no matter how much he begged, pleaded, or cried, Diego kept slipping further away. And now… now Diego was laughing.

“Bro, what the hell,” Diego grunted, holding his arms out and flexing. His voice was lower now—rougher, almost sluggish—and when he looked down at himself, it was like he didn’t recognize his own body, but didn’t care. “I feel jacked, dude. This shit’s wild.”

“You’re becoming you,” Cruz said, standing behind him, one hand on Diego’s shoulder like a proud sculptor admiring his work. “The real you. The one who doesn’t give a single fuck about anything except lifting, smashing, and stinking up the world.”

Diego snorted. “Yeah, man. I feel, like… free or something.”

Then Cruz grinned—and shoved Diego down, forcing him to his knees on the floor.

“You’re not done yet, bro,” he said, turning around and tugging down the waistband of his shorts. “You’ve still got the last piece to inhale.”

Cody’s eyes went wide. “Don’t—please, don’t—”

But it was already too late. Cruz hunched over slightly and ripped one—a deep, slow, bubbling fart that hissed out of him like a leaking gas valve, thick and sulfuric.

PFFFRRRBBBSssssssssst

The sound was disgusting, but it was the smell that hit the room like a war crime. Cody gagged instantly, jerking against the ropes. It smelled like fermented protein, swamp rot, and something sourer. Rancid. Diego twitched on the floor. His nose wrinkled—but instead of recoiling, he leaned forward. And breathed.

“Duuude,” he groaned. “That’s so rank.”

Cruz let another one out, louder this time, right into Diego’s face. “Yeah, man. Drink it in. This is what alpha really smells like. Raw. Brutal. Unfiltered.”

Diego moaned—and his body shuddered. The change kicked into overdrive. His neck thickened, veins pulsing just under the skin. His jaw cracked and widened, growing meatier. He scratched at his pecs as they ballooned, sweat soaking through his skin. His abs were now fully formed bricks, deep and grooved. A trail of dark hair snaked down his stomach. Then came the shift lower. Diego’s groin twitched—and then bulged. His crotch strained against his underwear, a visible wet spot forming as the musk worked its way deeper into him. He groaned again, louder, hips jerking involuntarily.

“Goddamn, my cock’s like… heavy, bro,” Diego slurred, dumbfounded. “And it reeks.”

Cruz laughed. “Yeah it does. That’s manhood, bro. Cheese it up. You ain’t some soft little boyfriend anymore. You’re a freakin’ jock beast. You stink like a god now.”

Diego’s face twisted. Something inside him cracked—and Cody could almost see it.

“What’s a guy doing tied up in our room anyway?” Diego asked, scratching his balls through his boxers. “That’s, like… gay or something.”

Cody’s heart shattered. He stared into Diego’s eyes—and saw nothing left of the man he loved. No recognition. No softness. Just heat, hunger, and haze.

“Please remember me,” Cody whispered. “You’re not… this. You were never this.”

Diego snorted, rising to his feet with a stretch, his pits now reeking on their own. He turned to Cruz. “Yo, let’s hit the gym after this. I’m, like, amped. Might blow out my back doin’ squats or some shit.”

Cruz slapped him on the back. “Atta boy.”

Then, casually, he ripped another fart—wet this time—and Diego laughed. Like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. Like it was home.

Cody’s chest heaved in shallow, panicked breaths. He didn’t even notice the tears streaming down his face anymore. His wrists burned from the ropes, his lungs ached from the choking stench lingering in the room—but nothing hurt more than what he saw in Diego’s eyes. Nothing. Not even the way Diego smirked now. That same crooked smirk Cody used to find charming after long nights in bed. But now it was warped—emptied. The smirk of a man who no longer remembered why Cody ever mattered.

“Yo,” Diego grunted, flexing and sniffing his own pit, face twisting in satisfied disgust. “We can’t just leave the twink like that, bro.”

Cruz leaned back against the desk, arms folded, his own sweat-streaked chest rising and falling with lazy breaths. “Nah. That’d be cruel, right?”

He turned his head slowly, locking eyes with Cody.

“But not turning him?” Cruz grinned. “Now that would be cruel.”

“No,” Cody croaked, struggling again, more desperate than ever. “Please. I’m not like you. I don’t want this.”

Diego crouched beside him, still shirtless, drenched in testosterone-soaked sweat. The scent rolled off him like heat. His shorts were tented—he didn’t care. His grin stretched wider as he leaned in close, bringing that overwhelming stink with him.

“You’re gonna love it, bro,” Diego said, voice thick and sloppy. “You just need to… breathe it in. Like I did. Shit changed my life.”

“Changed you,” Cody spat, his voice breaking. “Killed you.”

But Diego just laughed and yanked the chair—and Cody—closer to the bed with a screech of wood on tile. Cruz was already waiting, one leg up on the mattress, arms lifted behind his head. His pit hair was soaked, glistening, the reek curling in the air like visible fog.

“You know what to do, Diego,” Cruz said. “Wake your bro up.”

Cody thrashed, screaming now, tears and snot smeared down his face as Diego climbed up behind him, locking him in place with thick, muscular arms. His sweat dripped onto Cody’s neck, into his shirt collar. It burned like acid.

“Don’t fight it,” Diego breathed. “It’s so much easier when you let go.”

Cruz stepped forward—and shoved Cody’s face right into his pit. The scent was instant. Like a punch to the soul. Thick, rancid, hot. It had weight, like Cody was being smothered by the very essence of rot. It filled his sinuses, coated his throat, burned into his lungs. His mind reeled. It was so wrong. So foul. So intimate in the most degrading way. He coughed, gagged—but Diego held him tighter. Another shove. Another breath. And the edges of his thoughts began to curl like paper near fire.

“You smell that?” Cruz grunted, voice smug. “That’s the new you. That’s what real life smells like. Not perfume and feelings. Just funk. Just man.”

“Y-you… can’t…” Cody whimpered.

But the fog was already in him. Cruz farted—loud, wet, toxic—and the wave of stink hit Cody hard. His legs kicked instinctively, but there was nowhere to go. The gas was in his mouth, behind his eyes, changing him. His brain screamed—but the scream got quieter. His skin tingled. His chest itched. Something stirred in his groin.

Diego leaned in, whispering, “Feels good, huh? Bet you’re already feelin’ your cock growin’. Gettin’ ripe. Jockified.”

Cody moaned—no. Whimpered. He didn’t want to enjoy it. But the scent kept pressing in, pounding at every barrier inside him like a hammer made of rot and sweat and dominance. Then he felt it.His abs flexed. Not much. But more than before. A faint ridge. A twitch in his biceps. His thighs clenched, tingling as if blood was rushing to places it hadn’t before.

“First pump’s always the best,” Cruz said, smirking down at him. “Now let’s blow the rest of your brain out.”

He turned, stuck out his ass, and let it rip.

PPPPFFFFRRRRBBBTTTTT

Cody’s scream turned into a gasp. And then…A groan. His eyes rolled back. And the first real crack in his identity appeared.

Cody was sweating. Not from exertion—but from exposure. From absorption. His pores were screaming, wide open, trying to fight back against the flood of rancid stink that was seeping into him from every angle. The room was a sauna of testosterone. A crucible of stink, where men were melted down and reforged. He could feel it in the air. Thick and humid and sour. It clung to him like grease—seeped into the fibers of his clothes, into his hair, under his tongue. And it was changing him. His head lolled forward, still bound tight, mouth parted as he gasped for air. But there was no clean air. Only the thick, unrelenting fog of Cruz’s unwashed pits, his protein-fueled farts, and Diego’s now jockified musk rolling off him in waves. Cody whimpered, his voice barely audible over the ringing in his ears.

“Still fighting, huh?” Cruz’s voice oozed through the haze like oil. “Your body’s not.”

Cody couldn’t argue. His chest—flat, smooth, once more aesthetic than athletic—was starting to itch. He could feel the skin tighten, like something was pushing up from beneath the surface. He looked down, horrified, as the slight swell of his pecs pulsed once… then again. Slow, throbbing. They weren’t sculpted. Not yet. But they were thickening. Meat growing under skin. He shuddered, sweat pouring down his temple.

“No,” he whispered. “Not me. Not this.”

But his body wasn’t listening anymore. His abs tightened—involuntarily. His core spasmed, and he felt something click deeper inside him. Muscle fibers waking up. Stretching. Gorging themselves on the stink like it was fuel. And then came the hair. It was subtle at first. Just a darkening at the center of his chest. But as he blinked, more spread across the plane of his torso—sparse but wiry. Around his nipples. Down his belly. It was spreading like moss, fed by the humid air.

Diego leaned down beside him, eyes glittering with jock-stupid pride. “Told you it’d hit good, bro. Gettin’ thick already.”

“F-fuck… off…” Cody tried to snarl—but it came out weak. Almost needy.

His thighs spasmed next. He felt them bulk. From the inside out. Like two logs swelling under his jeans, pressing outward. Denim stretched. The seams groaned. The skin under it burned with the heat of transformation, and with it came a smell—not theirs, but his. He was starting to make it. His own stink. Faint. Cheesy. New. Cody’s lip trembled. His cock, hard against his will, throbbed once—then twice. It pulsed with heat, and with it came another involuntary moan.

“Feels good, huh?” Cruz whispered, pressing his foot against Cody’s swelling thigh. “That’s your body telling you the truth. You were never a boyfriend. You were a bro waiting to happen.”

Cody shook his head, barely. But his shoulders rolled. A stretch. A twitch. And then another pop of muscle at his traps. He could feel himself getting heavier. And the smell… it was changing. No longer entirely alien. There were moments—brief, terrifying moments—where Cody caught a whiff of something familiar, his own sweat, and instead of gagging, he didn’t mind it. He wanted to mind it. He wanted to hate it. But his brain was lagging behind his flesh. And his flesh was humming. Buzzing with submission. The stink was in him now. Soaked into his skin. Feeding the growth. His arms bulged. Not dramatically. But enough. He could see the rise of muscle at his biceps. Not sculpted—just meaty. Heavy. Bro muscle. Thoughtless, gym-earned thickness. His jaw clenched—because his jaw was widening. He felt his tongue press oddly against his teeth as his face began the slow shift from soft to sharp. His cheekbones rose. His brow thickened. His nose twitched—and for one horrifying second, he liked what he smelled.

BRRRRRRPPPPPPPPP

A deep fart bubbled from Cruz—wet and brutal—and Cody’s whole body tensed. His cock jerked in his pants, and this time, he didn’t moan. He groaned. Low. Dumb. Needy.

“Shit,” he breathed. “That’s… nasty…”

Cruz leaned in close, licking his lips. “Told you. Your body’s ours now. Your brain’s next.”

Cody’s mouth hung open now, his head lolling slightly from side to side as if it were too heavy for his neck. His tongue was dry, lips cracked, and every breath he took felt like it pulled him deeper into the stink-soaked abyss. And for the first time… Cody didn’t answer. He just breathed. He reeked now. His own musk had joined the oppressive cloud of Diego and Cruz’s sweat, armpit grime, and weaponized farts. The room was a man pit, and Cody was just one more source of it. But now the transformation had shifted focus. Now it was going for his mind.

“Yo,” Diego said, nudging him in the shoulder with a thick, veiny arm. “You in there, bro?”

Cody blinked. Sluggish. Blank. For a moment, nothing came out. Not words. Not even a sound.

Then—“Uhhh… yeah?” It came out like a question. Like even he wasn’t sure.

Cruz laughed. “Fuck yeah, bro. That fog’s finally settin’ in. You feelin’ it now?”

Cody’s brow furrowed. “Fog…?” he repeated, voice slow, dazed. “Yeah… uh… head’s all… floaty n’… shit…”

He blinked again. Thoughts were hard. Words didn’t line up right. Every sentence felt like a workout. His brain was sweating just trying to think. It wasn’t just confusion—it was erosion. Like every deep thought, every emotional memory, every abstract idea was being ground down into dull thuds.

Diego crouched in front of him, grinning that idiot grin Cody used to love—before it had turned into something stupid and cruel. “You remember your name, bro?”

Cody opened his mouth. Closed it. His eyes went distant.

“Cuh…” he started. “Cuh… Cody?”

That was right, wasn’t it? It sounded right. But then Cruz leaned in—and ripped another one. A deep, nasty fart that vibrated the air between them. And just like that, Cody forgot what he was saying. All that came out was a dumb little laugh.

“Shiiit… that’s rank, bro…” he mumbled, drool sliding down the corner of his lip. He didn’t wipe it. Didn’t even notice it.

Cruz clapped him on the back. “That’s the stink killin’ the parts you don’t need, bro. No more overthinking. No more dumb feelings. Just horny, hungry, sweaty fuckin jock shit.”

And Cody’s cock—already half-hard—twitched at those words. He barely reacted. Didn’t question it. Didn’t even feel embarrassed. Diego leaned in closer, and Cody didn’t move away. His former boyfriend’s pit was right there—hot, wet, tangy—and Cody’s nose flared. He sniffed. Once. Then again. Then deeper.

“Smells… fuckin good, bro,” Cody slurred, eyes fluttering half-closed. “Like… like home…”

Cruz stepped behind him again, rubbing his own swampy pits with both hands and dragging the scent up under Cody’s nose. “Say goodbye to the old you, man. Say goodbye to… uh, whatever fag shit you used to care about.”

Cody tried to focus. Tried to remember. A voice in his head whispered, Boyfriend. College. Love. Literature. Self-respect. But the words were slippery. Soft. Weak. They melted in the heat of the room, in the musk, in the fart-saturated air. And what replaced them was a warm, thick nothing. A dull buzz. Like a gym locker room had grown sentience inside his skull.

“Yo,” Cody muttered, blinking slowly, a little smile spreading over his slack lips. “I think I wanna… lift or somethin’…”

Diego and Cruz fist-bumped.

“He’s almost there,” Cruz grinned.

Cody stared blankly at the wall. His jaw hung loose. His pecs bounced slightly with every lazy breath, chest rising and falling with bro-tified rhythm. He was still Cody, technically. But what was left? A name. A smell. A cock getting thicker by the second in his gym shorts. And a mind…turning to gas.

The room was so thick. Dense. More atmosphere than air now. Sweat clung to the walls like condensation. The musk of three bodies—soured, ripe, corrupted—filled every breath, and Cody’s lungs had long since stopped resisting. He was breathing stink like it was oxygen. His eyes were glassy. Mouth slack. His once-tight jaw now hung open in a permanent dumb bro gape, glistening with drool. His hair, matted with sweat, clung to his forehead. His gym shorts—when had he even gotten into gym shorts?—clung to his hips like a second skin, tented by the heavy, pulsing meat swinging beneath. But the real change now…was in his gut. A deep, grinding pressure had been building. Right at his core. A boiling, festering tension that felt like it had weight—like a storm brewing in his bowels. And it meant something. Cody didn’t know what anymore—he barely knew how to think. But deep down, some part of him knew: this wasn’t just gas. This was everything.

“Bro,” Diego said, fanning the air with one hand, grinning. “He’s loading up. Look at that face. He’s about to blow the last of his fuckin brain out his ass.”

Cruz cackled, pressing a hand to Cody’s shoulder. “This is it, man. The grand finale. Say g’bye to being Cody.”

Cody moaned. A low, wet sound. More sound effect than word. His stomach gurgled—loudly. Pressure shifted. His hips jerked slightly forward. And then—

PFFFRRBBBLLLT

A long, wet, noxious blast ripped from Cody’s ass, echoing off the wooden chair beneath him. His head snapped back, eyes fluttering, a dumb, blissed-out smile stretching across his dopey face. But that was just the start. The gas kept coming.

PRRRRT-BRRRAAAP—SPRRRRTCHHHHH

Each fart shook his body. Tore through what was left of his dignity, his identity, his memories. Each one was like a balloon popping inside his skull—memories of college, of books, of Diego—gone, carried out on a cloud of steaming, toxic jock-gas.

“Uhhh… what was… what wuz I…”

Another blast. Loud and lazy.

BBBRRRFFFFFT

There goes literature. There goes his GPA. There goes his first kiss. Gone.

“Fuck, bro!” Diego laughed. “He’s straight-up fartin’ out his whole personality!”

Cody grunted, abs flexing involuntarily as another bubble of pressure bloated in his core. His body loved this. His cock was fully hard, oozing, bouncing with each thunderous release. His brain was just static now—warm, sour, content. One final glorious blowout built in his gut. The biggest yet. The one that would take everything. Cody’s eyes rolled back. He leaned forward. Gave a dumb, guttural, “Hhhurrghh…”

And let it rip.

PPPPFFFRRRRRRBBLBLBLLLTKRRRRTTTTT

A seismic, unholy sound. The stink hit hard, like paint thinner and rotten cheese. His whole body shuddered. His mind emptied. When the sound faded, Cody just slumped back in the chair, arms limp, mouth open. There were no thoughts left. Just heat. Scent. Sweat. Hunger. He blinked slowly and scratched his gut. Then he looked at Cruz and Diego, eyebrows slightly scrunched like he was almost thinking something.

“…yo,” he said finally, in a dopey, lazy voice, “when’s, uh… leg day?”

They howled with laughter. Cody laughed too, not knowing why. Just knowing he was home.

[tfenjoyer96]

Hi there, I wish more then anything that I could grow a muscle gut and become a huge Bara for my husband, but I am too lazy after working to go to the gym. Anything you can do to help me grow the big body muscles and pecs my husband wants me to have, while still maintaining a taut round belly without abs?

You’re shocked to walk in your front door and see a naked bara of a genie leaning against your fridge and reading Mentaiko manga with one hand as he stroked his big bara cock with the other. “You said bara, right?” he grunts, turning a page. “Meal prep’s in the fridge.”

After you rub a frantic load out in the bathroom, you discover that all the contents of your fridge have been replaced with various takeout containers and protein shakes. In fact, any food you hold or try to eat now turns into one of the meals or shakes in these containers. After a frantic phone call from your husband, you realise that he’s found himself in the same position at his work dinner.

It’s a bit hard for a few days, but before long you both discover the benefit: growth. Hair, muscle, and fat pack onto your bodies, the growth of years occurring in a matter of weeks. Your waistline expands at the same rate as your pecs, and your husband is in much the same position.

A few months on, you two look like off-season wrestlers, and you move, sweat, and lift to match. Sure, you drip sweat onto your husband’s face just a few minutes into sex, but you can just bury his face in your hairy armpit, pick his big bara body up off the bed, and keep fucking for hours. You can’t wait to see how the genie meal prep has you looking in a year or two.

Another wish fulfilled.

Got a wish you need twisted? Send an ask! Remember to say “I wish” so the genie hears exactly what you’re wishing for.

[tfenjoyer96]

Awaken the Beast

10...

11...

12.

You count in your mind, finally finishing your last set. You wipe down the seat before making your way back to the locker room. Though you get distracted when you pass by a large mirror spanning from the floor to the ceiling. It kinda shocks you seeing the gains you've gotten in the past couple of months since you decided to go to the gym. You crouch down and pull out your phone, taking a mirror selfie.

You smile, proud of your accomplishments before getting up and continuing to the locker room. As you walk, you keep glancing over to the mirror and flexing. You're looking over so much in fact, that you run right into someone.

"Sorry man, I wasn't looking where I was going." You say as you turn towards the man you just bumped into.

"Holy shit! This guy's massive." You think as the beast of a man turns toward you.

He locks eyes with you, and something in you changes. He starts flexing as you stare intently. Normally you would just walk away, as any normal person would, but you can't seem to move. You don't want to move. You want to stay and watch him.

With every pose the man strikes, you grow more infatuated. His massive biceps, his juicy pecs, and the hair covering every part of his body but his shiny bald head. You're not gay but some part of you wants him, but you also want to be him, you want everything to do with him.

The beast smiles. You have completely fallen for his trap. He whistles at you like your his pet, and you follow along mindlessly. You follow him to the locker room, where he drags you into one of the shower stalls and pins you against the wall. You can feel his hard cock press into your lower back as he holds you against the wall. Normally this would never turn you on, but the growing pre-cum stain in your shorts says otherwise.

The beast's heavy breaths fall on the back of your neck, shooting tingles down your spine. His shorts drop to his ankles, and all you feel is his 8 inch rod tap against your back a couple times. Suddenly you feel the cold air against your bare ass when he pulls down your shorts. He spits on his dick and slowly sticks the tip into your tight ass. Almost like instinct, a loud moan escapes your lips. Like a mix of painful groans and pleasured moans, your voice echoed through the empty locker room.

Your hands clench the walls as his cock slips further and further into you. Just when you think he's fully inside you, he keeps pushing. You breathe a sigh of relief when you hear his tennis ball sized testicles clap against your ass.

The beast quickly pulls his hips back, and prepares for round two. He thrusts his immense weight into you so hard that the wall creaks under the force. And as his balls clap against your ass, a wave of power surges through you. Your thighs pulse as the muscles swell, your abs become more defined, and your chest thickens into two solid pecs. He thrusts again and your biceps surge with strength, your shoulders broaden, and your chin becomes more square.

Every time the beast's cock penetrates you, every part of your body grows. Your thighs swell to the size of tree trunks and your feet burst out of your tiny shoes. Your skin tight gym shorts rip to shreds as your ass grows round and juicy, and even your average 6 inch dick nearly doubled in size to a monstrous 11 inches, a breeding machine.

The beast speeds up as his groans become louder. With each thrust, a wave of power rushes through you and you lose more and more of the man you once were. Your perspective grows higher and higher as your spine elongates until you can see over the shower stall. You can feel the beast's beard rubbing against the middle of your back when it used to rub against the back of your neck. The height doesn't make you look any less jacked, however, as your shoulders continue to broaden. Your tiny tang top doesn't stand a chance as your chest expands into two massive mounds of muscle. Your biceps swell to the size of melons, putting bodybuilders to shame. Even your hands grow thick and calloused, making anything look comically small when you hold it.

The beast is growling like an animal as he thrusts his entire weight into you. And you hardly even noticed your moans becoming deep and gruff, sounding more and more like the beast behind you. You can tell he's close, but your transformation has yet to end. Your jaw cracks as it becomes wide and square, and your brow bone starts to stick out more making you look more primitive. Dark stubble starts to engulf your face, but quickly spreads down to the rest of your body, covering you in a thick pelt of hair.

The beast growls louder and louder until he lets out a primal roar that shakes the entire locker room. At the same time you feel a warm liquid fill you like a donut. It's the point of no return, any piece of the man you were this morning is never coming back. There is just the beast now.

You stumble out of the shower stall, still getting used to the soreness between your legs. You find an oversized set of gym clothes sitting on a bench and throw them on your hulking body. That's when you spot yourself in a mirror. In an instant, sex drive floods your body. You pull out your phone to take a picture of yourself flexing.

Your hand wanders to your crotch, wanting to be released from your need for sex. But the beast grabs your wrist and pulls it back.

"Not yet, you know what you need to do." The beast whispers into your ear.

Like a soldier given an order, you drop everything and walk over to the gym. Your eyes scan the gym and quickly spot a young man on the bench press. Your strong instinct kicks in. Such a weak pathetic little man, he needs to be saved.

You walk up from behind and start spotting the young man. You can see a nervous expression on his face when he sees a beast like you. When he starts to grow tired, you grab the bar and start pumping it up and down above his head. His body seems to go numb as his eyes focus on your bulging muscles, he has completely fallen for your trap.

A cocky smile forms on your face as you put the bar down and prepare to catch your prey. You pull him off the bench and onto his knees, where his head is perfectly aligned with your crotch. You pull down your shorts and whip out your cock, his eyes widen as he sees the 11 inch monster in front of him. Your massive hands grab the back of his head as he opens his mouth. He struggles to take your cock, but eventually you feel your tip hit the back of his throat.

The intense pleasure feels like electricity coursing through your body as his tongue dances on your dick. You can feel your hips buckling as you pump his head back and forth. Your primal grunting grows louder and louder, and you couldn't care less about what the other gym goers see. Right now it's just you and your prey.

You growl as you climax, shooting ropes of your seed into the young man's mouth. You were so focused on yourself, that you didn't even notice his muscles were much larger than they were before and his shirt looks much tighter against his body. You watch in satisfaction as he swallows, all while a thick salt and pepper beard grows over his aging face. His transformation accelerates as your seed travels through his body. His pecs bulge out of his tang top as his biceps swell to the size of melons. His ass expands into two fat but perky cheeks as his thighs double in size.

As his transformation slows down, he sits up on the bench. You watch as he intensely stares at his reflection, the massive bulge in his shorts growing as he does.

You grab his chin, pulling his gaze towards you.

"Not now. You know what you need to do." You growl.

The beast gets up and scouts the gym. Most of the men in the gym have already had their beasts awakened, so you'll just have to find prey elsewhere. There's plenty to choose from out there, and you'll never be satisfied until every man has awakened the beast inside.

[tfenjoyer96]

Respect Women

Kris was simply in a bad mood when he told the woman at the club to fuck off. Well, to be honest, he said more than that: he called her a fucking bitch, and then told her to fuck off. Her eyes seemed to flash red with rage, jabbing him in his bony twink chest with a manicured finger, speaking with passion and disdain. "Boy, if you're gonna talk to women like that with that mouth, the least you can do is make her cum with it." The obviously gay guy blushed and then turned beet red in confusion and embarrassment. Something about the adrenaline of the moment even made his dick chub up a bit, or so he told himself.

He shook his head, stumbling back a few steps, ignoring the tingling feeling running across the flesh of his lips. He excused himself, leaving the woman to her anger and rushing outside where he quickly called a cab to come pick him up and save him from the awkwardness. Not only had his boyfriend stood him up, but he went and made an asshole of himself in front of some chick who totally thought he was a douche now. He knew better than to call her a bitch! He loved women, all his friends were girls, he was gay for crying out loud. He just wanted to take his frustration out on someone.

To do that on a black woman in a gay club… Wow. Awful judgment call, Kris. Good going.

He makes it to his home, rushes inside and slams the door behind him. Rubbing his face, he lets out a sigh and wastes no time making his way to his bedroom, where he flings himself on the bed and starts to fall asleep. Tomorrow will be better, he thinks, sleepily, still chubbed up and grinding lightly against the sheets below him. They feel so warm… so soft… so inviting. His eyelids are fluttering closed before realizing his lips are parting, tongue swirling out of his mouth, ready to have a french kiss makeout session with his pillow.

When he finally wakes up hours later, he's face first in a pile of drool, and as he tries to sit up, it feels as if someone has tied two massive bricks to his chest.

Kris groaned as he managed to roll over, panting for breath as it seemed to take all his energy to heave his chest up and down. His bulge felt so swollen and uncomfortably tight in his sleep shorts, like every movement was causing skin to rub against skin, chafing. He glanced down with a bleary blink, and then he gasped in shock and a little in fear. "FUCK!" booming out of his still wet and slobbery mouth was a low, husky bovine drawl, a bro's voice, and attached to his once pale, flat chest were now two thick slabs of bouncing, dark brown pec meat. Popping in place. Seeing how huge his chest was made him also notice how massive his shoulders were, how wide he was, how even though he couldn't see over his rock hard set of tits, he could feel his much fatter toes wriggling so much further down than he remembered them being. He forced himself to get off the bed, rising to his feet.

He could feel the vibration of his newly plumped up ass jiggling just behind him, and it took all his effort again to glance over his thick as fuck shoulder. With a wide look of panic, he could still see the massive jock globes shaking inside the tight prison of his mesh shorts. And the smell wafting up from the sweaty damp crack… whew! He glanced at his huge black hands, reached them upwards to feel the contours of his face, realizing very quickly that everything about him had been replaced. Not just his body. He could feel a much wider, sharper jaw. His brow felt furrowed, thicker, his nose large and his lips still slick and kissable and jutting out from his face. He pressed a finger into his fat, muscled up pec, noticing the stretch marks to the sides of his torso, from the sheer hulking size of him. He began to sweat, feeling that same sticky heat flare up beneath his armpits where black curls spiraled out, wafting the scent further across his bedroom.

He was so much taller, so much bigger, and as he stared at the black hunk he had become, he thought of the girl from the bar.

He remembered her eyes flashing red, the words she said to him, and his heart began to race and make him pump out even more sweat.

And then, so strangely, his dick began to get hard. He was just thinking about the girl he was an asshole to, and then suddenly he was remembering more about her than he noticed the first time, how she was wearing that cute peach top. How it hugged her curves, gave her tits an extra oomph, how those bouncing juicy breasts had been swaying up and down and jiggling ever so slightly the whole time they had been speaking. His newly massive cock lurched, radiating lust, and he moaned a low and desperate sound. The shaft throbbed against his tight boxers, his sleep shorts reforming into douchey sweaty workout pants loosely tied around his narrow waist, abs rippling on display.

Why was he feeling this way? He was as gay as any other twink in the state, he was frightened and confused to suddenly be a massive black dude with a hard on for some female stranger he demeaned last night, but he couldn't stop his brain from wanting to literally demean her further. He pressed his calloused hands on either side of his head, blinking back tears as he felt the distinct wiry curls of his new hair, his entire race had been changed against his will.

The whole time he stood there and stressed, he couldn't control his pecs and make them stop bouncing. Up, down, up and then down, POP POP POP.

And his ass kept swaying and jiggling and moving like a big chunk of jello behind him. He reached a hand back to rest against it, feeling the squish of the soft meat beneath his fingers. Against his will and giving in to his curiosity, his still hard cock directing him to tighten his body, to flex his biceps and get a look at just how truly sculpted he had become. As he flexed and then clenched his ass cheeks, his body moved on its own accord, giving his booty an extra playful shake to really make it bounce up and down. Like it had done this before.

But as he did so, he could feel his newly tight, puckered hole inch open just enough for a hot puff of protein reeking air to hiss out of his ass. PRFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFT!

A whiny voice echoed in his mind, wailing, begging to be forgiven, for the curse to be lifted, but Christian felt like he was in heaven. Nothing mattered more to the man than getting women off. Being covered in the juices of the female sex. Hearing them moan, feeling them vibrate, bounce, shake. Nah… he was a fucking breeder. An alpha. A real gentleman.

And after he finished swallowing down all her pussy juice, he'd be having her bounce up and down on his ready to burst python in no time. He'd be sure to leave a mini me baking in her womb as a thank you for her service.

Fuckkkk! He sure loved WOMEN.

[tfenjoyer96]

'Bama Bros

Did you like Bro'd Trip? Here's another longer story with a more physical, sensual (18+) transformation at the end. Enjoy!

Of all the roommates I could’ve gotten - obnoxious jocks, moronic meatheads - I’m glad it was Zach. We were the only two people at the University of Alabama actually trying to get an education. While our peers got drunk at house parties, we played video games.

“I don’t get people who do that,” Zach said, having just beaten me at Mario Kart again. “All the partying. And the drinking.”

“I know…I mean, there are party schools, and then there’s…”

“No, not that. I just don’t understand the appeal of it. They get something out of it, right? But what?”

“I don’t know. Aren’t you the sociology major?”

“I am…?”

“Well, if anyone could find an answer, it’s you. But good luck! You couldn’t pay me enough money to hang around with those guys.”

Zach paused, resting his chin on his hands. “You know…that’s not a terrible idea.”

I rarely saw Zach after that. He was too busy with his pet project, always coming and going to a frat house, a football practice, a gym session. The whole thing seemed so…stupid. I suppose it was my fault for putting the idea in his head.

“So, are you staying over the summer?” Zach asked. It felt like the first time we’d talked in weeks. I was trying to pack up some of my things, hoping it’d hasten my future move-out.

“Uh, no. I think I need a break. Honestly, I might transfer."

“Oh, wow. Um, I was thinking I’d stay, actually. A lot of the guys I’ve talked to will be here, so I think it’ll be good.” He paused, taking a breath. “But, I hope I’ll see you in the fall.”

“Thanks, Zach.”

I moved out a few weeks later, leaving our apartment in Zach’s hands for the summer. I didn’t care enough to sublet it. The less I thought about Alabama, the better. It wasn’t a hard decision: I had to transfer. But no school would take me - just my luck.

The drive back was long and quiet, except for the rumble of thunder in the distance. The heat and humidity seeped into my car. I was already dreading the prospect of hauling all my stuff inside.

“Hey, Zach!” I really hadn’t texted him this whole time? “Hope you’re doing okay. Good news: I’m coming back! I’ll be there in an hour. Would you mind helping me?”

I turned back to the highway. My phone pinged a few moments later.

“sweet! no prob bro.”

“Great, thanks so much! Looks like those guys have worn off on you, lol!” 

“yeah lmao. u got no idea wat u missed.”

What the…? I meant it as a joke.

I pushed the accelerator down, my stomach sinking. Just under 50 minutes later, I parked outside our building. 

“Yo! Long time no see, dude!”

The guy waiting for me was tall and muscular. His tight gray tank top exposed his stomach, and his arms barely fit into it. They were covered in tattoos, Bible quotes inked on his tricep and forearm; a cross hung around his neck. 

That wasn’t Zach. 

“Hi…Zach?” I squeaked, his embrace squeezing the air out of me.

“Uh, yeah, that’s me, haha! You good? Drive take a lot out of you?” He’d already made his way to my trunk, gesturing for me to unlock it. “Thanks. I’ll take these,” he said, grabbing a box under each arm. “Damn, you sure packed a lot. Good thing I’ve been hittin’ the gym!”

Wordlessly, I followed him back into the apartment. I looked around the place. My stuff was untouched, but I couldn’t help but notice the tubs of protein powder strewn throughout the kitchen. The AC was off, and the place reeked of body odor. I took a seat on the couch, tossing some sweat-stained piece of fabric off the cushion.

Wait, was that a jockstrap?

“I’m glad you’re back, dude!”

“Well, it wasn’t really my decision.” I sighed. “I don’t really fit in here, Zach. I hate it.”

“Nah, don’t say that! Look, I got just the thing. Give me a sec…” He vanished into his own room. 

“Alright, here we go. Just put this on, take a deep breath, and relax.”

He’d come out with a football helmet on his head. The guy it belonged to must’ve been massive. It dwarfed Zach - the facemask alone was wider than his neck. 

He took it off, shook out his hair, and held it in his hands. 

“You don’t gotta say yes. But if you do…it’s all gonna be okay. I promise.”

I opened my mouth. 

“What was that?”

“Yes.”

Before I could blink, Zach pressed the helmet down over my head. It was dark. Quiet. It felt like the rest of the world had disappeared.

My heart raced. 

What was I doing? This was insane!

And then…

Warmth. 

I felt it, every inch of my skin tingling. I could smell the sweat, the cologne, the grass, the cheap beer, the musk. I was with them.

I was one of them. 

So strong. 

So confident. 

So powerful.

I shivered. My arms itched, skin swelling around new muscle. My shirt tightened across my chest, solid, thick pecs pushing outward.

I grunted. “Oh, fuck!”

My voice was lower. 

My cock twitched. I felt it thickening, lengthening, hardening, dripping. I moaned.

I gotta get this thing off me…or not...

My thighs got nice and meaty. My stomach tightened, abs and obliques coming in nicely. I just felt…kinda fuzzy. All soft and warm. 

Ah….fuck. Yeah, I get it now! I don’t have to give a shit about being smart or whatever. ‘Cus…yeah, that’s not what life’s about. I just gotta be strong, sexy, stupid. Oh, my cock liked that! Yeah, little dude’s gonna blow. Not so little anymore though, hahaha!

I palmed myself, feeling my bulge through my shorts. Goddamn. I moaned just a little, thrusting into my hand.

I was fuckin’ built for this! 

“Bro…I’m glad I came back!”

— 

“cant wait 4 that party 2nite! ready 2 show off ;) "

Like the story? Want to support me? Check out my Ko-fi!

[tfenjoyer96]

Coach’s New Team

Ethan Rivers was used to being invisible.

He wasn’t unpopular exactly, just… unnoticed. A solid B-student with a knack for computers and a love of science fiction. His best friend, Jeremy Lowell, was the same. Quiet, clever, skinny. The two of them were practically fused at the hip since sixth grade — D&D campaigns, overnight coding binges, shared lunches behind the science wing.

They had one rule: stay out of the spotlight. At Lakewood High, that meant staying away from the jocks.

The football team ruled the halls with protein-shake-fueled testosterone and body odor. The smell of sweat and Axe clung to them like a second skin. They wore their jerseys every day, even in classes. Flexing constantly. Laughing too loud. Picking fights. And yet… they were multiplying.

That’s what first caught Ethan’s attention.

By October, the football team had exploded. Twenty-five players turned into nearly fifty, and many of them were faces Ethan recognized — but not from the field. They were the quiet kids. Smart ones. Weird ones. Honor students.

Now? They were all… different.

Big. Loud. Flexing constantly. Speaking in monosyllables like cavemen. “Bro” in every sentence. And they had that same glassy-eyed look — that same stupid grin.

“Something’s wrong,” Ethan whispered to Jeremy one afternoon in the library. “Liam Brody? He used to be in the math club with you. Now he’s wearing cleats and grunting during AP Calc.”

Jeremy raised an eyebrow. “I thought it was just me.”

“And Kyle? He was in chess club. Now he’s got biceps like a cartoon character.”

Jeremy leaned in. “There’s a pattern. You notice how all the new jocks were smart kids before?”

Ethan nodded. “Like someone’s… recruiting them.”

“Or changing them.”

That last line hung heavy in the air.

They tried to investigate. It felt stupid at first — like some kind of conspiracy LARP — but the more they looked, the more terrifying it became.

The pattern was real. Every week, one or two nerdy kids would stop showing up to clubs. They’d vanish for a day or two. Then they’d come back bigger, buffer, and a lot dumber. Jockified. Always hanging out by the gym. Talking about “Coach’s new training program.”

Ethan found the transformation photos online.

Old yearbook pictures, class photos. The before and afters were insane. Gaunt, pale, awkward teens turned into bronzed, grinning jocks. Same eyes — but vacant. Always smiling. Always flexing.

Then, on a Thursday morning, Jeremy didn’t show up.

No warning. No texts. No messages.

By the second day, Ethan was spiraling. He asked teachers, classmates, even the front office. “Family emergency,” they said. “Coach Reynolds is checking in on him.” But nobody would say more.

By Friday, Ethan knew something was very wrong.

He snuck into the gym after practice. The place reeked of sweat, protein powder, and something deeper — something feral. The lights buzzed overhead, flickering faintly.

The locker room door was slightly ajar.

Inside, red metal lockers lined the walls like silent sentries. The air was thick and warm. And there, dead center, was Jeremy.

Only it wasn’t Jeremy anymore.

He sat on a bench like a king on his throne. Number 23 stretched across his bulging chest. His thick thighs poured out of tight black pants, calves wrapped in red socks. The cleats were spotless. His arms rested lazily over his knees, massive biceps glistening. He grinned when he saw Ethan.

“Broooo! Yo! Ethan! What’s up, my fuckin’ guy!”

Ethan blinked. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. The voice wasn’t right — deeper, lazier, dumber. And Jeremy’s eyes… they were all wrong. Blue, but empty.

“What… what happened to you?” Ethan whispered.

Jeremy laughed and flexed. “Coach fixed me, bro. Fuckin’ best feelin’ in the world. I used to think too much, bro. Now I lift. I flex. I get so fuckin’ horny, bro.”

“You’re not making sense—”

Jeremy stood. His huge body loomed over Ethan. The scent of sweat and testosterone washed over him like a wave.

“I don’t gotta make sense, bro. I just gotta obey. Coach plays the files — real deep stuff, bro. Gets in your head, loosens all that dumb nerd shit. Makes you wanna grow, wanna serve. I fuckin’ love bein’ Coach’s boy, bro.”

Ethan backed up. “No. You’re not Jeremy. You’re not—”

But two more figures stepped into the locker room.

Liam and Marco.

Both shirtless, pumped beyond reason. Their skin gleamed with sweat. They moved like bouncers — slow, heavy, confident.

“Where you goin’, bro?” Liam grinned. “Can’t leave now.”

“Coach said you were next, bro,” Marco added.

Jeremy grabbed Ethan’s wrist. “You’re gonna love it, bro. Coach wants every nerd fixed, bro. You’re gonna get so dumb, so jock’d, dude. Just gotta hear the files.”

Ethan screamed.

They strapped Ethan to a bench in the trainer’s room. He fought, but it was useless. They were too strong. Too happy.

The headphones came down.

“Welcome, recruit. This is your first induction. You don’t need to think. Thinking is pain. Muscles are power. Obey. Flex. Serve Coach.”

The words were a whisper at first.

Then they were everything.

Ethan’s vision blurred. His limbs felt heavy. His thoughts… slow. Images flashed behind his eyes — jocks flexing, grinning, humping the air, kneeling before a massive figure in a red cap.

“Coach is god. Coach is alpha. You will obey.”

He moaned.

“You used to be weak. Now you’re strong. Used to think. Now you obey.”

Sweat beaded down his temples.

His spine arched. His muscles swelled, screamed. Something changed in his brain. A mental firewall crumbled. All that fear, resistance — replaced with need.

Need to serve. Need to grow. Need to be a jock.

When the files stopped, Ethan stood slowly.

The reflection in the mirror was unreal. Towering. Bulky. Glossy red jersey hugging his swollen pecs. Abs bulging. Arms like steel beams. Thighs bursting through black compression pants.

He grinned stupidly.

“Bro…”

Jeremy clapped his back.

“Knew you’d love it, bro. You look fuckin’ alpha.”

“Dude, I feel so jock’d up. So fuckin’ horny, bro.”

Coach Reynolds walked in, silent and commanding. The room went still. Every jock turned and knelt.

Ethan knelt too. Grinning. Sweating. Heart pounding.

“Coach,” he moaned. “I’m ready to serve, bro.”

Coach smiled.

“Good boy.”

[tfenjoyer96]

Dude your stories are amazing. I’d love to turn into your typically smelly frat bro, think you could help me out? I don’t mind being a former frat bro either hehe

Thanks :) I would be more than happy to help you out

Smells Like Confidence

With a click of a finger your wish has come true. You feel something else click; your jaw. It has sharpened dramatically into what could only be described as an ‘aesthetic’ shape. Your change in facial structure has meant that your lips are permanently pulled back into a cocky grin. Brown hairs pierce through the skin on your razor sharp jawline and above your now perpetually smug smirk. You have the face of a typical frat bro who knows he is hot and loves it.

You don’t even have to think about putting on a wife beater, a backwards cap and a douchey chain necklace. It is your natural aesthetic. Your body grows to fill out the wife beater. A strong chest pokes out between the straps which straddle onto your now large traps. Big shoulders and arms burst out from the sides. The rest of your body reaps the benefits too. Your abs carve out a clear eight-pack into your core, your legs thicken up with powerful muscle, and even your glutes gain a generous amount of mass making your ass stretch out towards dump truck territory. That’s not all, as your feet stretch out to become three shoe sizes bigger than before and your spine cracks and twists as it adjusts to your new height of six foot four. You feel your balls start to hang lower as they become heavier, swelling up into two large, plump orbs. Finally, your precious cock fattens up and adds more than a few inches to its length, so that it now dangles even lower than your hefty balls.

Now it’s time for you to experience the aspect of your new frat aesthetic that you desperately yearned for the most; your smell. You notice an intense itchy and damp sensation coming from your armpits. You lift your arm up and unleash a wave of masculine odour that floods into your nose, whose wide nostrils and symmetric shape has not been spared from turning completely ‘aesthetic’. To no one’s surprise you love your foul yet incredibly manly scent.

This transformation melts your brain, and in doing so destroys so many worthless memories and habits that have been damaging you for so long. Using deodorant, doing laundry, taking post-gym showers, caring what others think; gone. But don’t worry, there is still plenty left floating around in the puddle of a brain that you have. You still know how to lift weights and flex your muscles. You get incredibly aroused whenever you catch a whiff of yourself, which is often as the potency of your odour is increasing with each passing hour. All you can think is that you smell like a man, and that being a man is so good. 

Your cocky grin beams even wider as you notice people staring at you everywhere you go. You have a powerful scent that turns heads and a god-like body that keeps eyes on you. Whether it's disgust or lust that your body invokes, it doesn’t matter, as all the attention fuels your already overblown ego. That same ego that loves that people can smell you long before they can see you, that loves that your stink lingers on everything you interact with even long after you are gone.

Socially, you are a tyrant. Most people can’t stand you and for very valid reasons. Luckily you have developed a tight circle of friends who are very similar to you. One of your new favourite pastimes is hanging out with your bros and watching sports as you down beers and protein shakes. They aren’t judgmental about you like the rest of society and don’t give you snarky looks when you let out a BUUUUURRRRRP after chugging a beer or let rip a BRRRRRAAAAAP after drinking too many protein shakes. In fact, they encourage it and join in too. It goes to show how comfortable you and your new friends are with your body. You embrace that which the rest of society thinks is foul, you embrace your true masculinity.

This hobby of yours doesn’t take long to show its effects on your body. Your once shredded and aesthetic physique gets replaced with a thicker, stockier build. All those beers and protein shakes have bloated your body. Your confidence however has taken no such hit. You still think you're the best thing in this world, and you will never change your mind.

This extra padding has come with the side-effect of making your body produce an endless amount of sweat. You make dry clothes turn sopping wet within minutes, of course you still have no inclination to do laundry. You put permanent sweat stains on everything piece of furniture you touch, your favourite sofa is now just a sponge that hopelessly tries to absorb all your sweat.

The best part of this is how much smellier it makes you. You’re a walking health hazard that can make someone pass out just by being too close to you. All this sweat has only made you thirstier too. Your beer and protein shake consumption goes through the roof. Your stomach is constantly in a losing battle trying to digest all that yeast and protein. So, your belches have become louder than a lion’s war and your farts are now literal bombs. 

Looks like I made you into a bit more than just a ‘typical’ smelly frat bro. But I think you can see how slippery the slope is once you start going down that path. Just like a frat bro, I am not one to take half measures, so enjoy your new life as a bloated, smelly freak. It’s not like you know any better anymore.

[tfenjoyer96]

I worked on this one a bit too much just for it to be shelved in the fucking flagged corner of Tumblr. Why the fuck Tumblr cannot develop better system for flagging like mark the part where it OFFENDED the untouched lonely cat lady/soyboy piece of shit flagger team so writers and artists can then update do the revision rather than a blanket "your post violated---" BS.

Anyway

Alpha Virus: Roomie

Jared and Mitchell cannot be more different. Starting from the simplest fact that Jared is a highly sexual straight beast while Mitchell is a reserved gay man that never brought his date home. They also have different lifestyle as Jared worked as a realtor and also PT while Mitchell spent most of his time in the creative labs helping aspiring undergrads with their projects and also working on his own project funded by several regional art patron.

But despite all that, living together is not necessarily an obstacle for them as they have their own private section in the apartment and not like the others are rude or crossing each other's line. Until Jared caught the Alpha Virus.....

After a particularly long day working on his project, Mitchell found the jittery Jared in the sofa only in his underwear. Mitchell's first and only mistake is to check on Jared as the muscle beast instantly pinned the unsuspecting Mitchell to the floor. Mitchell is too surprised to even react and before long, his pants and underwear quickly torn apart and he found his face already buried deep in his roommate's sweaty armpits.

He tried to resist it and making Jared came to his senses, but the musk and the sweat somehow lulled Mitchell to a state of obedience as Jared continued his assault of using Mitchell like a dirty rag to clean his body. As Jared grabbed a hold of Mitchell's face, Jared realized that the effect is kicking in as Mitchell's brain seemingly fried and ready for some reset, so he flipped him over and started to prepare for the next step. As his body tossed to the reclining sofa, Mitchell momentarily came back to his senses. He grabbed his torn shirt to cover his body and tried to stop Jared in the very last second, but when he saw Jared's eyes, it's devoid of the warmth it usually radiates but it also terrified Mitchell to the point of submission and just letting Jared to do whatever he wanted. Before long, Jared already lubed his 9 inches monstrosity and instantly pummeled the entirety of the meat into Mitchell's somehow-relaxed hole.

Like a ragdoll, Mitchell just accepted his fate as his roommate pounded his hole mercilessly like there's no tomorrow. His mind is clouded with confusion and memories of moments he clearly never associated himself with. Going to a frat party? Majoring in PE? Befriended Jared and other PE studs? Gangbanged the sorority girls next to their frat house? None of it makes sense but he dwelled on it trying to get more clarity on how on Earth he appeared in those flashes of memories and involved himself in those activities. The image of Mitchell in those flashes of memories also slowly yet surely differed from the one currently in existence. Jet black hair, very angular face with perpetual five o'clock shadow, buff hairy body, none of it fit the idea of Mitchell Lynn as a 26 years old blonde-haired creative. Meanwhile, Jared smirked in delight looking at his roommate seemingly cooperated with him on the rebrand process. Mitchell just stared blankly as more of the virus started to enter his system courtesy of Jared's corrupted pre and spit, and the growing form of Mitchell just excited Jared even more as Mitchell started to look like a proper bro with the growing thickness in his armpit and the swelling biceps as the changes started to spread all over his body.

Mitchell high-pitched moan slowly gets deeper and there's a slight change in the way words rolled out of his mouth as Jared's pounding turned more rabid and intense. He slurred in his delirium, calling for his bro to stop before he busted his swelling nuts, but Jared simply give 0 shit about it, too enamored with the increasingly more masculine Mitchell. Soon, the growth caused Mitchell to burst out of his tanktop to reveal a pillowy pecs adorned with tattoos and scruffy hairs. The long blonde hair already receded back to his scalp, leaving a cropped black hair messy with sweat. The facial hair also seemed to form nicely already, framing Mitchell's sensual mouth with pornstar-like stache and scruffy stubble. But despite all that, the eyes still radiated the same naivety and innocence that simply felt out of place in such manly body, so Jared jackhammered Mitchell's gaping hole until Mitchell's eyes turned white due to the increasing pressure.

Writhing in mixture of delight, pain and confusion, there's more false memories and believe that polluted Mitchell's mind, and yet he cannot resist it as his old thoughts and believe hijacked by this invading corruption of self or either pushed down to his testicle as it coagulated into spunk ready for release. But the writhing and moaning is twisted in Jared's mind as the effect of the virus caused his mind to see and hear things differently. In his delusion, a mischievous smile appeared on Mitchell's face as he then encouraged Jared to keep going "Flood me with your spunk, bro. Corrupt me as you please and push the old me out! This is the closest you'll ever get to my hole cus I'm not gonna be a fag after this. Cum. Cum. CUUMMMMMMMMMMMHHYYYEAAAAHHH!!!" That is enough to eventually push Jared to his limit. As Jared eventually bursted his load inside Mitchell, the now-scruffy stud flailed like a fish taken out of water, his whole muscle spasmed as the corruption affected every single cells of his being that formed the Mitchell Lynn that people know while Jared trembled for a bit before he breaks out from his trance and calmed himself down. Jared released his cock from the tight captivity of Mitchell's hairy hole that quickly shut itself tight as if no cock ever entered it and spewed some other leftover loads all over the scruffy chest. Jared knows that the process take some times, after all, that's what he heard from the other alpha carrier in regards about "the converted". The converted tend to be lower in standings to the one affected by the alpha virus directly, so since it's not their natural condition, an alpha needed to break them to elevate them and that adjustment indeed take some times Much to Jared's delight, not even an hour and Mike already walked out from the bedroom, sporting a backward cap and looking smug as fuck like a proper Alpha "So, any plan for tonight? I'm dying for some tight cunt to breed, but I'll follow your lead,"

--

An RP-turned-story with @fullfriendnerdclutch Thanks for bouncing the idea with me bro!

Once again, big fucking fat fuck you to Tumblr flagger team

[tfenjoyer96]

Ctrl + Alt + Deliverance

Eugene had just turned twenty-one. He didn’t have friends to clink glasses with, or a cake waiting for him back at some apartment filled with string lights and laughter. He had algorithms. He had his thesis on neural optimization models. He had books. A lot of books.

People never really knew what to do with Eugene. He wasn’t mean, just... smug. Not in a loud way, either. Just the kind of quietly confident that made people uneasy, like he was judging you for misusing a semicolon. Always a bit too pressed, a bit too rehearsed, a bit too aloof. A gay loner with sharp glasses and sharper opinions, usually found whispering sweet nothings to his terminal window rather than a real person.

That’s how he ended up at a dive bar downtown—alone, just past dusk, tie still around his neck, posture stiff like he’d walked straight out of a thesis defense. It was the kind of bar with neon beer signs, warped floors, and a faint undercurrent of fryer grease in the air. He hesitated for a full minute before nervously adjusting his glasses and sliding onto a stool.

“I’ll have a... um. A beer,” he said, like it was a foreign word. Then, without prompting, he launched into an awkward overshare: “I, uh, just turned 21. Youngest grad student at MIT. Don’t really go out much. I mean, I’ve never actually—well, not once. With anyone. You know. Like that.” He laughed nervously, cheeks flushed. “Still a virgin, if that wasn’t clear.”

The bartender, a thick man with a beard like steel wool and a tattoo of a raccoon on his neck, gave a slow, crooked smile. “Beer’ll put some hair on your chest, kid. Maybe set you on the path to bein’ a real man.”

Eugene bristled. Real man? What did that even mean? He didn’t think he came off as femme, though he knew he was twinky—lithe, pale, the type of build that could disappear into a hoodie.

He took the beer without another word and slunk into a dark corner of the bar, hoping no one would notice him. The first sip was an assault. Bitter. Foamy. Like someone had carbonated despair. His stomach churned in protest, the bubbles hissing through his gut like a science experiment gone wrong. He grimaced, shifted uncomfortably—then blurrrt. A wet, horrific beer fart escaped him, loud enough to make a dog bark outside. His eyes went wide.

It smelled awful—a ripe bouquet of yeast, nerves, and something that might’ve once been cafeteria chili. His own face curled in revulsion, and he looked around in panic, hoping no one noticed. But the air felt... heavy. Off. Like something had shifted.

Then came the itching.

It started small: faint pricks on his chest, his arms, his thighs. Eugene looked down and gasped. Hair. Coarse hair. Sprouting where he had been smooth just minutes ago. His pale skin began to weather, deepening into a more rugged, sun-worn tone. He could feel time sliding over him, each second like sandpaper.

21... 24... 26... 28... 32... 35...

His body twitched. Trembled. He dropped the bottle, grunting as his limbs bulked and stretched. Bones groaned. His narrow shoulders widened with a pop, then another, sinew and flesh ballooning as if over-inflated. His clothes strained, ripped, stitched seams crying out in protest.

Another bubbling sensation began to build in his abdomen—at first just discomfort, then sharp pressure. His narrow hips shifted on the booth cushion as his small stomach bloated unnaturally. A sharp cramp hit him, and without warning, he let out a fart so vile, so impossibly foul, that even the air recoiled. It was hot, damp, sulfurous—like a gas leak had caught fire in a garbage dump.

Eugene choked on his own breath, waving his hand in front of his face. But as the stink settled like a fog around him, something else began to happen.

It started with a tingling in his arms. His forearms thickened, muscles pressing outward under his hoodie, stretching the sleeves tighter. Veins bulged visibly, a roadmap of transformation as his limbs swelled with sudden, unexplained power.

His hands, once slender and quick from years of typing, cracked audibly as the fingers lengthened, joints thickened, and palms grew calloused—as if he’d spent decades turning wrenches or chopping wood. His nails darkened, toughened.

His face flushed hot. He pushed his glasses up his nose, but the frames were too small now—his nose had broadened, his cheekbones sharpened. Stubble burst across his jaw in fast-forward, dark and heavy, growing into a dense, untamed beard within seconds. His neck widened, cords of tendon standing out with every breath.

The glasses slipped from his face as his jaw squared, beard stubble blooming like wildfire. Tattoos began to ink themselves into his skin—angry swirls of Americana: bald eagles, tribal barbed wire, half-legible phrases like “Earned, Not Given.” His tank top (he hadn’t been wearing one?) was filthy and far too small, clinging to pecs that twitched like loaded springs.

Beneath his hoodie, his chest convulsed. His pectorals ballooned outward with sudden mass, round and meaty, forcing the fabric to stretch drum-tight across them. They bounced softly with his movement, heavy and real, like something sculpted from beef and testosterone. Sweat began to pool under his arms, the scent no longer clean but musky, deep—an odor of effort, not hygiene.

His back cracked as it broadened, his spine thickening, vertebrae expanding like knuckles being popped. He hunched forward briefly, groaning, as muscles layered onto his frame with terrifying efficiency. Lats flared out like wings beneath his hoodie, which now looked like a shrunken relic clinging to the precipice of destruction.

His abs weren’t sculpted—they were packed, dense, like six bricks stacked behind thick skin. Not for show, but for survival. The faint ridges pulsed as his body adjusted, digesting the man he had been.

Lower down, his hips stretched wider, his narrow waist now wrapped in a thicker belt of fat and muscle. His thighs ballooned with meat, cords of strength that strained against his jeans. The fabric creaked ominously as the seams threatened open rebellion. His calves followed, knotted and veined, pressing outward like overfilled sausages.

And then—his ass.

It swelled with slow, powerful momentum. Two globes of flesh packed with weight and authority, lifting him slightly off the booth cushion. It wasn’t subtle. It wasn’t dignified. It was obscene—powerful enough to fill every inch of his jeans and then some. The waistband folded under pressure. Every movement was now a seismic event.

His clothes, overwhelmed, surrendered at the edges—threads popped, a button shot free and clinked against the floor. His hoodie clung to him like plastic wrap.

He reeked now—not of deodorant and dry shampoo, but of testosterone, oil, and raw effort. The smell of a man who didn’t own body wash. It radiated from him like a force field. And his farts? Oh, they didn’t just slip out anymore. They announced themselves.

Another thunderous blurrrrrapppp rumbled free from his mountainous frame. He chuckled darkly, chest heaving, proud and utterly unbothered.

“Hell yeah,” he muttered, voice now a low growl. “Birthday’s just getting started.”

Eugene guffawed—a short, sharp burst of laughter that didn’t sound like him at all. Too loud. Too wet. It escaped just as another vile, hell-born fart ripped from his rapidly mutating ass with the force of a foghorn and the smell of a cursed swamp. The bar's dim lights flickered, whether from a power surge or the sheer audacity of the stench was unclear.

He gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white, chest heaving. Something was happening. His planner—once his most sacred artifact—lay crumpled on the floor, pages curling, ink smudged by the sweat now pouring from his armpits like guilt. His brain, once a fortress of logic and citations, was beginning to short-circuit.

He tried to recite the periodic table to ground himself. “Hydrogen, helium, lithium, ber—bu—bur—”

BRRAAAAAAP.

A burp belched forth, dragging with it the smell of nacho cheese and dying brain cells. Eugene slapped a hand to his mouth. He blinked hard. Did he just forget what “quantum entanglement” meant? That used to be a comforting bedtime thought.

His memories began escaping—literally—each time he let one rip. With every fart, a flash of his old self vanished like air leaking from a balloon. There went his first programming language. PFFFFFFFT—there went his knowledge of sentence diagramming. A juicy one took his thesis outline. And a truly stomach-churning blast saw the complete erasure of his seventh-grade spelling bee victory.

“Hurrrghh,” Eugene groaned, his voice slipping deeper, slower. He giggled again—no, not giggled. Cackled. A dumb, giddy, hiccuping laugh that shook his ballooning chest and echoed off the beer-stained walls.

Hair was crawling over his skin like ivy on brick. Thick tufts burst from his pecs, his belly, even his toes. His once-delicate hands cracked and widened into meaty mitts, fingers now stubby and flecked with calluses he’d never earned. He scratched himself openly, absentmindedly, and belched with satisfaction. As the noxious cloud envelops Eugene, his thoughts begin to unravel like a cheap sweater. The stench burrows into his nostrils, clawing at the recesses of his mind. His eyelids flutter, struggling to stay open against the overwhelming assault. "Goddamn," he mutters, his words slurring together. "That's some powerful shit." His mind, slowly clutters with conspiracy theories and hateful rhetoric, the complexities of the world melt away, replaced by primal urges and base instincts. He reaches up, scratching at his greasy beard, dislodging a flake of tobacco that drifts lazily to the floor. His fingers linger, tracing the contours of his face, feeling the coarseness of his skin. The sensation is oddly comforting, grounding him in the momen

The tattoos came next—burning their way into existence, swirling up from beneath his skin like they were being branded into him by some demonic dive bar deity. “No Ragrets” scrawled across his collarbone. A bald eagle in jorts flexing under a flaming guitar. A barbed wire heart with the name “Marlene” scratched out and replaced with “BOOZE.”

His once-lithe frame thickened into a fleshy fortress. Muscles didn’t form—they congealed. His torso now looked like it was built from couch cushions and hostility. His neck thickened until it vanished. His jaw jutted. His nose broadened. His ears twitched as country rock began to sound...good.

He reached for another beer—some off-brand domestic swill with a dented can and a label that said “Dad Strength.” He cracked it open with his teeth and chugged.

“Damn, that’s GOOD,” he bellowed, foamy dribble running down his chin. His eyes twitched. Neurons sputtered. Taste buds celebrated. Brain cells wept.

As Eugene’s mind spiraled into the abyss, it wasn’t a gentle descent—it was a bulldozer crashing through every carefully constructed thought he’d ever had. His planner lay crumpled on the floor, its pages curling like dying leaves, but Eugene didn’t notice. He was too busy cracking open a beer, his hands now thick and clumsy, trembling as they fumbled with the tab.

“Damn, that’s a good beer,” he muttered, only it didn’t sound like him anymore. The words were drawn out, thick, like they were stuck behind a wall of sludge. He took a long swig, letting the cheap, bitter liquid coat his mouth, and it hit him—why the hell did he ever drink craft beer in the first place?

He took another gulp.

His thoughts were slipping, like sand through fingers, and it wasn’t just his mind. His body, once so sleek, so organized, was swelling like a bloated carcass. His shirt felt tight around the chest, his belly pressing forward, pushing out the remnants of who he used to be. The veins in his arms bulged grotesquely, popping like overstuffed sausage links, skin stretching, and muscles becoming too much. His jeans felt suffocating, too tight around his thighs as they thickened. And he was sweating—oh God, was he sweating. Sweat pouring from his body like he’d been working in a pigsty all day.

"Damn liberals," he growls, his voice thick with contempt. "Think they're so smart with their fancy degrees and their gay parades. But they ain't never held a real job, never got their hands dirty."

His eyes, bloodshot and wild, fixate on a framed picture of Trump on the wall. "He was a real man," Eugene slurs. "Knew what was what. Knew the libs were trying to take our country, our guns, our freedom."He staggers to his feet, the room spinning around him ."I'll show 'em," he mumbles, fumbling for his truck keys. "I'll drive my truck right through their precious protests.

His brain was swimming in a fog, thoughts crashing into each other in a slurry of confusion. Memories he once held dear began to dissipate like they were on fire, burnt away by the oppressive heat of his changing mind. That one time he realized he was gay, watching Cyclops on X-Men: Evolution—gone. The meticulous way he organized his bookshelf, every book in perfect alphabetical order—gone. The joy of reciting facts about quantum mechanics or having a sharp-witted exchange about film theory with friends—gone. All of it—gone. Each brain cell that died left behind a hole, and with every passing second, a new memory invaded the space.

A trucker hat appeared on his head, practically appearing out of nowhere, and he slapped it on his scalp without a second thought. The tattoo that now covered his forearm was something incomprehensible—a twisting mess of skulls, Confederate flags, and words like "2A OR DIE" etched deep into his skin, his hand now itching to scratch it. Another memory, gone. But now, he was feeling it, in every fiber of his being.

“Yeah! THAT'S what I’m talkin’ about!” he bellowed suddenly, his voice no longer Eugene’s, but Buck’s—deep, gravelly, and loud, like a bulldozer with a megaphone. He slapped his thigh with a meaty hand, sending a shockwave through his body. His laugh followed, nasal and boisterous, a sharp snort that rattled his teeth. It was the kind of laugh that made people uncomfortable, but Buck didn’t care—he never cared.

His thoughts were slipping even further, becoming more and more like the voice of someone else. Someone dumb, loud, proud. He was feeling it now—the thick, unshakable confidence of a man who believed he was right because he couldn't be wrong. His whole body was an exclamation point, puffing out like a bloated rooster, chest wide and proud, neck as thick as a log. His legs were the trunks of oak trees, the ground creaking under his weight, but he didn’t notice. He was too busy slamming his beer, grinning like an idiot.

“I’m the King of the county gym, baby! Ain't nobody lifting more than me, not a damn soul!” Buck roared, his words now wrapped in the crude, ignorant accent of a Southern man who thought his opinions were like gold. He could smell the gasoline, sweat, and burnt beef jerky emanating from his body, and it filled him with pride. He smelled like a real man. His trucker hat felt heavy on his head now, and he adjusted it with a practiced, ignorant flair.

“Snowflakes!” Buck spat, laughing. “They all whinin’ about everything, huh? Maybe they need a real job, workin’ for a living! I’ll tell ya, this country’s goin' to hell without Jesus, Trump, and some good ol' fashioned hard work.” He took another long drink, the beer going down with the kind of satisfaction only a man who hadn’t had a single thought in five minutes could truly appreciate. A loud, wet fart erupted from him, and he slapped his hand on his stomach like it was a badge of honor.

But it wasn’t just the words—his mind had become him. He was thinking like someone who had been raised on pork rinds, moonshine, and Fox News. His brain was fried from years of terrible ideas and bad decisions, and now it was all coming home to roost. Eugene had vanished. Buck had emerged fully. And he had a new set of priorities.

Everything was simpler now. Politics? Screw it. Facts? Who needed them? It was all about what felt right in the moment, and right now? Right now, he was Buck Diesel McGraw, a man who believed in freedom, guns, and slapping ass at every opportunity. He could smell the musk of his own sweat and it felt like victory. He was loud and proud, and no one could stop him. He didn’t need to be smart. Hell, being dumb felt good—felt right.

“I don’t know about all that fancy science stuff,” Buck drawled, his mind growing hazier with each passing second. “But I do know one thing: Ain’t nothin' better than a cold beer and a fresh deer sausage. If you don’t like that, well... guess you can take your fancy lib’rul self and go home.”

His house wasn’t a home—it was an army bunker decorated with the spoils of his questionable life choices. It was chaos. Cans of Busch Light scattered across the floor, the Ten Commandments duct-taped to the fridge, and a taxidermied boar glaring from the corner. The flags of freedom and rebellion were everywhere—on his truck, his belt buckle, his heart.

And his thoughts—those glorious, misguided thoughts—were louder and dumber than ever. He’d never been prouder.

“I don’t need therapy,” Buck said to himself, the words coming out like a guttural growl, “I just need a goddamn cold one and a red truck. That’s all a man needs!”

The door creaked open, and Buck strutted out, his stomach sticking out like a victory flag. The air smelled like engine oil and unwashed sweat, and the whole neighborhood would know he was there before he even opened his mouth. A new memory flashed across his mind—the time he cracked open a Coors Light for the first time in high school and felt like a king.

And he laughed, loud, brutish, a laugh full of self-satisfaction.

“Gonna get me a truck and a woman, hell yeah!” Buck yelled into the world, and the universe, for a brief moment, seemed to agree.

Buck stumbled through the door, his boots kicking up dust on the worn linoleum floor. The stench of stale beer and cigarettes clung to his clothes like a second skin. As he surveyed the room, his bleary eyes landed on a sight that made his heart race and his pants tighten. A blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauty lay sprawled across his couch, her short skirt riding up to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of thigh. With a loud, guttural burp, Buck sauntered over to the couch, his hand reaching out to grab a handful of the girl's firm ass. "Well, well, well," he drawled, squeezing the plump flesh possessively. "Looks like I've got me a little visitor." The girl stirred, her eyes fluttering open to reveal a dazed, hungover gaze. But as she took in Buck's rugged, handsome face, a slow, stupid grin spread across her lips. Buck leaned in closer, his hot breath washing over her face as he spoke in a low, gravelly voice. "You know, darlin', I've been thinkin'. This country's gone to shit. Too many liberals, too many foreigners takin' our jobs.But you and me, we could change all that." His hand slid from her ass to her thigh, squeezing roughly. "We could start a whole new generation of red-blooded Americans. Strong, proud, and loyal to the core." The blonde giggled, her small mind struggling to comprehend Buck's words. But the hunger in his eyes and the heat of his touch were all the encouragement she needed. "Yeah, Buck," she breathed, her own hands reaching up to tangle in his hair. "Let's make some babies and take America back."

[tfenjoyer96]

Pledge Class PresiPig: Part One

Jason was your average high school jock turned wanna be frat brother. He had spent the summer working out trying to get the perfect body for fraternity rush, wanting to prove himself to the brothers with a chill attitude and killer physique. His arms, legs, and chest had gotten toned and muscular but he couldn’t seem to lose the starter belly that had grown while studying for finals. If anything, he knew it had just gotten bigger. He stood in front of his dorm room mirror and flexed. “Damn man…” He said aloud while squeezing his belly. His roommmate Calvin chuckled. “You know it’s just gonna get bigger right? Freshman 15 and all that.” Calvin said with a sneer. “Not like all the beer we’re gonna be drinking is gonna help.”

“F off,” Jason sneered turning to look at his roommate. Calvin was a heavyset guy but he carried it well. Big, broad shoulders and tree trunk thighs he definitely looked the part of a star recruit on the college football offensive line. “I just gotta get more cardio in. And stop getting late night pizza with you tubs.” Calvin and Jason had only know each other for a week but the two had really hit it off, lots of common interests and good workout partners. Though having Calvin around certainly wasn’t helping his last ditch effort to lose the gut. The man loved to eat and Jason had been all the happier to join in. Ignoring his growling stomach, Jason started to get dressed and ready for the first day of rush.

The first few fraternities the roommates visited weren’t great. Conversations never held and none of the guys had the same bro energy Calvin and Jason were looking for. Luckily the next stop was Pi Iota Gamma and Calvin said he knew a few of the brothers from football. When they walked through the door, two corn-fed o-line guys bear hugged Calvin almost immediately. Jason thought it was almost comical, seeing the three enormous men embrace with Calvin somehow being the smallest. Jason continued past them and headed into a large room with a bunch of brothers and potential members gathered around in small groups.

Two brothers approached him. “Hey man! What’s up. I’m Max.” Said the taller of the two. “And I’m Sebastian, though you can call me Seb.” Max was a tall guy with a beard who had the body of a rock climber—slender and shredded. Seb looked like all he did was workout with arms and a chest that were bursting out of his polo and a seriously toned waist. It was as if Jason’s dream body had just walked up in front of him. “Looks like you’re pretty strong dude, got some serious muscle there.” Seb said. “You workout a lot?” Jason felt the blood rush to his cheeks from the compliment. “Hey I’m Jason, nice to meet y’all. And for sure dude, was crushing the weights this summer after spending the day life guarding.” Jason smiled, clearly his hard work had paid off. “Though seems like I could learn a lot from you man, how’d you get your abs so toned,” He asked curiously.

Max laughed and elbowed Seb. “Don’t give this guy too many compliments, his heads already too big.” He said while Seb gleamed from Jason��s question. “So other than working out what are you into? Please tell me you’re not just another meathead like him.” Max asked. “Uh playing fortnite, football, mountain biking, stuff like that. I’m majoring in Business.” Jason said casually. “My roommate Calvin said he knew a couple of you guys, from what I heard yall seemed chill so thought I’d join in.” Max and Seb smiled at him. “You know Calvin? That guy came to our house a few times during summer training. He’s a total chiller.” Seb replied. “Yeah love the man, absolute beast at pong and damn the man can drink!” Matt said. “But that’s cool man, mountain biking is sick. Used to do some myself. You seem chill, I’ll see you around? Gotta meet more of the guys, president’s duties and all that.”

Matt and Jason dabbed up and he walked away, joining another conversation. “Well that’s our president.” Seb said, reaching into his pocket. “A bit brash but he means well.” Seb pulled his phone out and opened his contacts. “Here wanna give me your number? Maybe we could workout sometime and I could show you some tips.” He smiled devilishly as Jason typed his number in. “Yeah man that sounds great! Text me your name and I can let ya know when I’m free.” Jason said. Seemed like this was going incredibly well, he thought. He knew working out would pay off and now with Seb’s help he might finally lose this belly. Jason turned towards Calvin to see him still talking to his football buddies. There was one more guys, just as large as the other two. Damn they must have the whole O-line here or something. He disregarded them and started to meet other brothers.

After another hour Jason found Calvin again and the two headed back to the dorms. They hadn’t bothered going to the other open houses, deciding the guys at PIG were a perfect match. Calvin went to grab dinner with some football guys and Jason stayed back. Watching those big guys eat always made him feel weird. He just knew if he ate like that his belly would become an actual problem. While running through his course requirements, he got a text from Seb. “Meet me at the gym tomorrow at 8?” It read. Jason was floored, if he didn’t fuck this up he’d be a shoe in for PIG like Calvin. He spent the rest of the night doing crunches, a last ditch effort to work off his bellly.

The next day, he woke up and started to throw on his workout clothes. Calvin was already at practice so he could be as loud as he wanted. He rummaged through his drawer for a shirt, realizing most of them were in the hamper. He pulled one out and gave it a sniff then recoiled, “Fuck I need to get these washed.” Reaching towards the back of the drawer he found a shirt he hadn’t warn in a while. “Did I even pack this?” He threw the shirt on and looked at himself in the mirror. His shorts and shirt sleeves accentuated his toned thighs and big arms but his torso looked like a pudgy mess. The tightness of the shirt that made his arms look big was coming back to bite him in the gut, his belly poking out a noticeable amount through the shirt. “Damn well I guess this will do.”

He walked to the gym, embarrassed by the roundness at his midsection. “Can’t let this bother me so much.” He thought as he tugged at the shirt to try and stretch it. “Seb won’t care right?” Going into the gym, he spotted Seb in front of the door to the locker room. He had an incredibly low rise tank on that barely covered his chest along with spandex shorts and a towel over his crotch. Despite Jason’s efforts, he was nowhere near as in shape as Seb. Everything was more ripped and toned and he couldn’t help but look down at his midsection bulging out. “Hey bro glad you could make it! And you’re early too… my man.” Seb said once Jason got closer. “I’m on chest day if you wanna join in otherwise we can just keep an eye on each other, I can give you some tips.”

Jason nodded. “I’m on chest today too actually,” he said. “This works great.” Seb nodded in approval and put his stuff in a locker. “Oh by the way, made ya a shake.” Seb said pulling out a shaker filled with a viscous fluid. “Secret recipe, you’re just gonna have to trust me on this one. It gets results!” He handed it to Jason. “Give it a try, it’s a great preworkout.” Not wanting to disappoint, He put the shaker up to his mouth and started to sip down the shake. It was delicious and thick, maybe one of the best he had. He forgot where he was for a second, too engrossed in the taste. Suddenly he lowered the shaker and felt it was empty. Looking at Seb, he smiled and said “Damn dude that was delicious, what do you put in these?” Seb chuckled. “Can’t tell ya, it’s a secret.” He walked past him and patted his gut, saying “Cmon let’s go, can’t waste too much time.” Jason followed, unaware of how bloated the shake had made him look through his tight shirt.

The workout went well, the two jocks matching pace with each other and helping spot during tough lifts. Seb pushed Jason to try heavier and heavier lifts, the freshman ending up breaking his personal best on the bench press. As he lifted the bar came down on the final rep, he yelled “LETS GOOO!” and stood up jumping in the air. “Nice bro, I could tell you were giving that one your all,” Seb said. Jason filled with endorphins went in for a bear hug and grabbed Seb who returned the favor. He felt the jock give his sides a feel, just barely noticeable but definitely a squeeze where his small belly had softened up his waist. He blew it off too excited to worry about Seb possibly noticing how soft he was. “Fuck man that was insane, thanks for the tips don’t think I would’ve hit a PR without you.” Jason said chuckling. Suddenly his stomach let out a loud growl. “Shit, I’m starving. You wouldn’t have time to grab some breakfast before class would you?” He asked. “Nah I gotta run and get ready but maybe I can catch you tonight?“ Seb responded. “We’re having a chill boys night at my place.” Jason was elated. “Sure man sounds fun, I’ll catch you there.” He said before the two made their separate ways.

Jason headed to the dining hall immediately, not bothering to shower. His stomach was gnawing at him, as if he hadn’t eaten in days. Walking into the dining hall, he immediately loaded two plates up with eggs, bacon, sausage, potatoes, fruit, french toast… pretty much everything on the menu. He normally would be watching what he was eating, but between hitting his personal best and this immense hunger, he decided to reward himself. Walking to the tables, he saw Calvin eating alone still sweaty from practice. “Yo man, mind if I join you?” Jason asked. Calvin looked up and his eyes went wide after seeing the amount of food Jason had brought with him. “Shit man, decided to quit that silly diet finally huh?” He asked with a sneer. “The diet can wait, decided it’s cheat day after I made a new PR on the bench press with Seb today.” Jason bragged with a smile. “He got me nice and pumped up with some secret shake he makes, I was crushing everything!” Calvin laughed as Jason sat down and began to eat his food again. “Good for you man, happy you’re enjoying the PIG guys as much as I do.”

The two ate in silence for a second, Calvin focusing on something on his laptop while Jason was simply too busy stuffing his face to talk. It didn’t take him long to clear his plates, his hands shoveling food in to satisfy his hungry gut. He let out a small burp before his belly growled again. “Fuck how am I still hungry?” He thought to himself. More food seemed like a bad idea given he was trying to lose weight, but he still felt so starved it hurt. He stood up and grabbed his empty plates. “Headed out already?” Calvin asked. “Haha no bro, just going for round two,” Jason said while rubbing his belly instinctively. “I must’ve worked up a real appetite man.” Calvin gave him a once over, noticing just how bloated Jason looked in his tight shirt. “You keep eating like this and that shirt might need to get retired soon…” He joked and poked Jason’s belly which barely gave, stuffed full of food.

“You’re on to talk big guy, not like your clothes are fitting either these days,” Jason shot back gesturing at Calvin’s too tight shorts which were straining to hold his thighs in and digging into his waste. “Hey they make my butt look big!” Calvin said meekly. “Well I gotta go to class, enjoy your seconds big man.” He said with a wink and packed his stuff up. Jason waved and walked away, stomach growling. The food in the dining hall smelled more delicious than ever. He let his appetite control him, grabbing two 3-egg omelettes and a full stack of pancakes drizzled with syrup and melted butter, covering each plate with a pile of bacon and sausage. Walking back, he could barely think about what he was doing from the pain in his stomach. Once he got back to the now empty table, he sat down and started to feast. Thank god his parents had paid for an unlimited meal plan.

About a half hour later, Jason was glued to the bench, unable to go get more from how stuffed his gut was. It had taken thirds to ease his appetite and it was showing through his shirt. Checking his watch, he frowned. If he didn’t get his ass in gear he’d be late for class. He struggled to get up, breathing heavily as he felt food churn in his bloated belly. As he walked through the dining hall his shirt rode up, exposing the underside of his extended stomach. Huffing away, his belly feeling immense, he made it back to his room and showered so he could run to class. By the time he sat down, the food had settled and he no longer felt easily winded. But a familiar feeling from earlier had crept up again and he was starting to feel hungry. “No fucking way after all I just ate…” he thought. The hunger kept growing throughout the lecture. Finally when it was over Jason raced out to the dining hall, he felt famished and his stomach had been gnawing at his for and hour now. He got in line at the pasta place and remembering how breakfast went, ordered two plates of chicken alfredo with double protein.

Waiting for them to make the dishes, he went to checkout hungry as ever. Spying some delicious cookies, he couldn’t help but order two to snack on while he waited. Grabbing the cookies, he munched on them in record time. While he shoved them down his throat, he spotted Max in the corner of his eye also in the pasta line. He turned quickly, embarrassed by what he must’ve looked like eating the two cookies. When the food was ready, he grabbed both plates and hurried over to a booth near the back. “Fuck why am I so hungry today,” he thought to himself while feasting on the pasta. He barely gave himself time to chew, just wanting his belly to fill up fast and stop the hunger pains. As he tore through the last of his second bowl, Max sat down across from him with two bowls himself. “Hey Jason, looks like Seb really worked an appetite into you this morning.”

Jason looked up from his bowl of food, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He tried to laugh to ease of his feelings. “Uh hey… yeah the workout must’ve taken a lot out of me,” He replied in shock before scooping the last of the pasta into his mouth. “I’ve just been starved today, not sure what’s up.” He leaned back and stretched trying to look cool. Max couldn’t help but look down at his swollen belly, straining against his t-shirt. “I feel ya, that man can work you hard enough to eat a horse. Here why don’t you take this? You look like you need it more than me.” Max said as he pushed the other plate of pasta over to Jason. “Thanks man, appreciate it.” Jason said before starting to eat. As the pair chatted, Jason ate the third bowl of pasta quickly emptying it out but his stomach still growling.

“Sounds like you might need some more dude,” Max said as Jason finished off the last of the bowl while his stomach continued to growl. “I’ve got you man. Follow me.” Max got up and Jason followed, heading towards the pizza place. The upperclassman walked up to the guy cooking the pizza and asked him something. Before Jason could talk, the guy behind the counter handed Max two pizzas. “How’d you pull that off?” Jason asked greedily grabbing a pizza box and pulling out a slice. “Built up a good relationship with the workers over the years.” Max said shrugging. “Would recommend you do the same especially if you plan on eating like this.” Max laughed before poking Jason’s midsection causing him to recoil, mouth too full of pizza to say anything. “You know not everything is about having a six pack, though I’m sure Seb would disagree. Anyways I gotta head to class, enjoy the pizza.” Max said with a wink before walking off.

Jason walked back to a table, wishing everyone would stop talking about his belly. He thought about throwing the pizza away but his stomach rumbled and he quickly sat down and started to feast again. The rest of the day went the same, Jason unable to satisfy his hunger and having to pig out at the dining hall between classes. By the time he got back to his room after dinner he could barely move, his bloated and extended belly so full of food all he could think about was laying down for a nap. He gave himself a look in the mirror, shocked at how much his belly sticked out from his body. His shirt looked like it was painted on, showing every detail of his enlarged gut. He peeled it off and gave his belly a shake, watching it bounce up and down like a hard ball in his hands. “What the fuck happened to me today?” He thought, knowing he’d spent half the day stuffing himself with food. At least his hunger pains had finally gone away, but he didn’t even want to think about the calories he ate to get that to happen. Pulling his shorts off, the button of which he had to undo during dinner, he layed down and quickly fell asleep weighed down by everything he had eaten.

Waking up, he groggily saw two figures in his room, his vision still a little blurry. “Big man finally woke up!” Yelled Calvin as Jason pulled himself out of bed. “Hope the food coma was good, we’re getting ready to head to Seb’s place.” Jason scratched his belly and rubbed his eyes, opening to see Calvin pulling a shirt over his massive frame and another big boned football guy sitting on his bed. “Shit man, didn’t know you were bulking up for the O-Line.” His friend said. “Coach does need another player to train up, one of the walk-ons quit when he couldn’t take the heat. He was a small fry anyways.” The man slapped his gut and laughed. Jason scoffed, figuring a response would just make things worse. He went and grabbed a fresh tee, pulling it over and feeling it stick tight to his belly. Seeing himself in the mirror, there was no hiding the damage he had done to his midsection. His shirt was showing off just how bloated he had let himself get, all the mindless eating resulting in a solid round ball that jutted out from his torso. He looked like he had swallowed a football.

He saw Calvin walk behind him and place his hands on his belly, his roommates own gut pressing into his back. “Where’s the photographer? We’re ready for our pregnancy pictures. My baby momma has the perfect bump forming!” Calvin said and the two football players roared with laughter. Jason felt something stir in him from the contact with his belly. Being so stretched out had left it sensitive and Calvin’s hands felt just right against his packed belly. He didn’t entertain the thought for long, pushing Calvin off of him and saying, “Stop giving me so much shit man, let’s just go.” He huffed and walked out of the room ready to drink to ease his nerves. As the trio headed off campus, Jason couldn’t help but realize how much more similar he looked to the two o-line guys walking next to him. He was still much smaller but now they all had bellies stretching out their shirts, a sign of constant over-eating or in Jason’s case, a single day of immense overindulgence.

When they finally arrived at the office-campus house, Jason knocked on the door after adjusting his shirt in an attempt to hide his “baby bump” as Calvin had put it. The door swung open and Seb smiled at them. “Just the boys I was hoping to see. What’s up?” Jason went to dab Seb up but the jock pulled him in for a hug. Again he felt the familiar squeeze on his sides from that morning only this time there was a lot more for Seb to grab. “Come on in, there’s plenty of beer.” The boys walked in behind Seb to a group of 10 guys playing pong and talking. Jason spotted Max at the table playing pong, turned away from him. His cutoff t-shirt gave Jason a good look into the president’s figure and he was incredibly toned, back rippling with muscle. His body was in stark contrast to the enormous man playing next to him, who had his pants at his ankles. His tight underwear showed just how massive his thighs and ass were, at least three times the size of Max’s and covered in hair. He watched the man sink a shot. “Fucking finally…” He said with a sigh as he pulled his shorts up, barely squeezing his butt into them.

The two turned to see who had just walked in and both smiled. “Calvin what’s up my man!” The big guy said and walked over and gave him a hug. Even Calvin’s size was absorbed into his mass, belly squishing over Calvin’s own. He turned after letting go and smiled at Jason, extending a hand. The big man had a surprisingly thin face despite how massive his belly was. Hair covered his arms and poked through the neckline of his shirt, which was barely doing its job of covering up his stomach. “The name’s Harrison.” He said. “Nice to meet you, I’m Jason.” Jason shook his hand, feeling how pudgy his fingers had gotten. Harrison’s grip was strong and Jason figured there was a good amount of muscle under all that fat. They continued into the house, grabbed beers and started to chat with the brothers. Calvin ended up joining a few brothers watching a football game while Jason chatted with the guys at the pong table.

“Are you on the football team?” Harrison asked. “You know I was on it freshman year; I was a center.” Jason couldn’t even imagine the obese frat bro in front of him had once been in shape enough to play college sports. “No just unfortunate enough to room with someone who is,” Jason responded. He stared at Harrison’s gut as he threw a ball, sinking it. “Hah, figures. You’re a bit too small. Though that could always change especially if you’re lifting with Seb.” Harrison said. “I mean look at me, turns out if you quit the team but keep the appetite you get A LOT bigger…” He chuckled, his belly shaking. Jason quickly changed the subject, feeling weird about how the guy talked about his weight. He’s way past obese, how can you joke about it, Jason thought to himself. The game went on with Max clearing the board at the end; Harrison and Max smiling big and hugging. “How about some flip cup?” Max suggested. “Loser has to do a bitch chug.” The rest of the brothers walked over and they began to set the game up.

Jason ended up sandwiched between Calvin and Harrison. “What’s a bitch chug?” Jason asked Calvin. “Hope you don’t find out,” Calvin said with a laugh and started the game. Things started not going well for Jason very fast. Chugging cup after cup, it turned out Calvin and Harrison were much better than him. The game started to come to a close, and Jason was staring down his last shot. Make or break, he went for it and missed. Suddenly a stack of cups landed in his own and he turned to see Harrison staring at him with a devilish grin. He looked like someone had just put a big plate of his favorite food in front of him. Before he knew it, Seb was handing Harrison a beer bong and Max was pouring beer into it. “On your knees, it’s time to chug!” Seb said with a laugh.

Jason went down to his knees not wanting to make the brothers mad, submitting to whatever Harrison had in store for him. He looked up to see the huge man’s belly hanging in his face, he could see the skin of his underside from how much it poked out of the shirt. Above the belly, Harrison’s face stared down at him in between his two large tits. “Open up, little guy!” Harrison jeered before giving Jason the end of the bong. As soon as he put it in his mouth, Harrison lifted up the bong and cold beer began to flood into his mouth and down his throat. “Chug, chug, chug!” The guys all yelled as Jason struggled to keep pace with the amount of liquid. Jason was just staring up at Harrison’s belly, entranced by its size while he kept gulping down beer. He felt his dick twitch a little and he closed his eyes trying to keep up with the pace. Before long, the last drops with down his throat and he took the bong out of his mouth, burping loudly right into Harrison’s belly.

The boys around him cheered and he looked up at Harrison, seeing his smiling face above his massive frame. The big guy extended his arm and helped Jason up, the beer still bubbling inside his distended gut. He let out another burp, covering up his mouth a little too late. “Don’t worry man, let it all out,” Seb said standing a few feet away. “That’s gotta be one of the fastest chugs I’ve seen in a while. Hell Harrison, you might have some competition.” Jason beamed from the praise, feeling more and more like one of the guys. “As if I’d let this pipsqueak beat me,” Harrison chuckled patting his belly. “You’ve got some ways to go bro.” As Harrison glanced over Jason’s body, Jason quickly realized his dick was still a little hard. He rushed to cover it up, but he could’ve sworn he saw a little smirk on Harrison’s face.

Deciding to run to the bathroom before anyone else noticed, he burped again and walked to the back of the house, rubbing his bloated belly in discomfort. He closed the door to the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror, staring at his body. His belly had bloated enough to peek out from the bottom of his shirt and as he rubbed it, he let out another burp. “Fuck… maybe Calvin was right, I do look pregnant.” He thought as he turned to the side, seeing just how much his gut stuck out. The thousands of calories he had eaten today along with all this beer was making him look properly thick. “I’ll have to work extra hard at the gym in the morning…” He thought as he took his still semi hard dick out and took a piss.

His sudden increase in appetite had been confusing enough but the effect kneeling before Harrison’s massive gut had on him was even more puzzling. Deciding to ignore it, he shook the remnants of piss out as his cock grew flacid and went to rejoin the party. The rest of the night was spent with even more drinking and debauchery, though Jason managed to avoid another bitch chug during the next few games of stack cup having learned his lesson and steering clear of both Harrison and Calvin. As the night wound down, he joined a few of the brothers on the couch and watched some football highlights. He didn’t realize but his bloat was all the more obvious while sitting, his tight gut protruding over his waistband and stretching his shirt out. Pounding down beer after beer, he grew more and more drunk as time slipped away from him.

After what felt like minutes but had been an hour and a half, Calvin came up to him with his friend. “Ready to head out bro?” Calvin asked. Jason sat up and stumbled to his feet, more drunk than he expected. “Yeah let me just use the bathroom.” He said. “Someone’s in the one down here, you’ll have to head upstairs.” Calvin replied. “We can wait for you.” Jason nodded and headed up the stairs, having to use the handrails as support after all the drinking. He walked past a few closed doors, each with a brother or twos name on them. The bathroom was at the end of the hall, right next to what seemed like Harrison’s room. As he passed by, he heard loud grunts and a slapping sound from inside. “What girl would want that lardass fucking them…” He muttered.

As he pissed, the grunting continued, reverberating through the wall. He swore he could hear two distinct masculine voices coming from the room. He tried to shrug it off, not wanting to make assumptions but he couldn’t get over his curiousity. Walking back down the hall, he turned to the door and pressed his ear up to the door. “Yeah… you like my fat ass? Pound it harder bro… fuckkkkk…” He heard Harrison say. He stumbled back, bewildered by the information he just found out. Before anyone noticed, he hustled back downstairs and walked over to Calvin. “Damn dude, you look like you just saw a ghost!” Calvin said. “It’s just the booze…” Jason replied quickly. “I might’ve had a little too much to drink. Let’s go.” The trio walked out the door and headed back to campus, Jason stumbling behind the two.

When they got back to the dorms, Jason stumbled to his room and grabbed his water bottle. “Fuck Calvin I’m gonna be so hungover tomorrow,” He said. “And Seb wants to workout again…” He refilled the bottle and started chugging again, bloating his stomach even more. He could sort of feel the button start dig into his skin even more but he was too drunk to care. “You’ll be fine buddy, though we could always order something to soak up the beer…” Calvin asked with a grin. Jason groaned thinking about even more food. “Bro I can’t eat anymore look at me.” He peeled his shirt off to reveal a rock hard gut, bloated well over his waistband. “I look fucking fat… think this’ll go away by the time I wake up?” He shook his gut staring down at it, watching it bounce up and down. “Gonna be honest, probably not.” Calvin replied. “What even got into you today?”

Jason started to unbutton his shorts, breathing a sigh of relief as the pain around his waistband dissipated. “I really don’t know dude, I just… was so incredibly hungry.” He said as he sat on his bed and took his shorts off. He looked down at his belly and frowned. “The last thing I needed was to pig out like that but damn it hurt.” Calvin looked at him sympathetically. “You’ll be fine bro, working out with Seb you’ll probably lose the weight in a week.” He replied as Jason smiled. Despite all his teasing, Calvin did know how to make him feel better sometimes. “Well I’m gonna go grab some grub with some football bros, sweet dreams. Hopefully there isn’t too much food involved.” Calvin chuckled as he opened the door. “F off fatso,” Jason retorted before his roommate left.

With Calvin gone, Jason started to really investigate the damage he’d done to himself that day. He sat there squeezing his gut, rubbing it, and giving it a jiggle. Something about how sensitive it was stretched out like this felt so good while he played with it. He leaned back into his pillows and gave it a hard slap, hearing a nice sound echo through the room before he let out another burp. He was so entranced by his own gut in his drunken state, unable to keep his hands off. Soon enough he felt his dick get hard and he reached into his underwear to stroke it. One hand on his cock with the other on his gut, he started to get harder than ever. Soon his mind drifted to Harrison. He remembered how in awe he was at the big man’s belly hanging in front of him.

“How long had it taken him to get that big? Just how much was he eating? What did that big of a belly feel like walking around with?” His mind filled with questions and he looked down at his own gut. “What if I end up that big?” He thought. “Would anyone even have sex with me?” He immediately thought of what he had heard coming from Harrison’s room. “Were other guys really into fat asses like that?” He wondered what it felt like to slam into an ass that wide and plump, then wondered what it even felt like to get fucked. As his drunk horny brain filled with more thoughts, he continued to rub and squeeze his gut while he subconsciously picked up the pace on his dick. Before long, he felt his body tense up and his breathing pick up. Holding his bloated gut in his hand, a thick juicy load shot out of his cock and all over his chest and belly.

The post nut clarity hit instantly and he suddenly felt disgusted in himself, lifting up his hand from his gut not realizing he had started to rub some of it into his belly. He stared at the cum covered hand then looked down at his torso. “What’s happening to me?” He said out loud, a worried expression on his face. Standing up, he went to grab a towel and wiped the cum off his body and hands. Seeing himself in the mirror, he felt disgusted but couldn’t help but grab his belly again, giving it a few more shakes. Sliding his underwear back on, he crawled back into bed and started to doze off feeling all the calories he had today still swirl in his belly.

[tfenjoyer96]

Supplemented: Ben

At this point, Ben was beyond happy with his physique. He used to enjoy working out, watching others admire his body and feeling strong as he lifted but now it’s as if he has hit a wall. Now he’s grown bored of his progress; the results aren’t as fast-paced as they used to be. While his body was in peak shape, all he wanted to do was to grow bigger and stronger. He saw powerlifters online and obsessed over their routines but nothing worked. When someone at the gym told him about a new experimental supplement that would help him, he thought it was too good to be true. Asking for proof, the stranger motioned towards a huge brute of a man named Devon with big muscles and a gut to match and said he was smaller than Ben just the day before.

Ben didn’t believe the guy but still accepted his offer, after all what was the worst that could happen. He took the supplement before his normal workout as instructed and immediately felt a crackle of energy in his mouth and a surge of strength. It was as if something had been unlocked inside of him, a brute force he never knew he had. He began to pump iron next to the mirrors, admiring his toned physique as he was powering through sets with ease at his personal best. While he watched himself in the reflection, he began to watch his body change. All over his muscles were getting larger: biceps seemingly grew an inch in circumference each set, his thighs grew meatier with an ass to match, and most noticeably his chest and stomach grew ever outwards straining even the large tank he had been wearing.

By the time his workout was over, Ben had completely transformed into a hulking mass of muscle and fat, twice the size of the lean jock he had just been. Now 320lbs, he was one of the largest guys in the gym and was enamored by the attention it brought. Easily lifting more than the other guys thought possible, he had became a beast in the gym powered by his massive new body. After workouts Ben could always be found posing in his underwear in front of the mirrors, drooling over his own size. It seemed like had gotten just what he wanted.

[tfenjoyer96]

Jack O'Bros

You'd think attending a slutty Halloween party full of hot guys would be a blast, but you'd be dead wrong. My god were they all brain-dead! Don't get me wrong, I like a good old-fashioned hot dumb ass from time to time, but all of them?! Also, I never imagined pumpkin heads being the hot costume for men this year? Who'd want to wear a carved-out dirty pumpkin on their head all night? I guess that's dumb jocks for yah. What sucks is I was really looking forward to that party, but I just had to get out of there. They were all starting to give me the creeps, not in that fun Halloween way but actually.

Those pumpkin heads were all acting so hive-like, talking in monotone and endlessly repeating the same phrases. "The pumpkin heads must grow. All men must be seeded. We must grow. We must seed." What the fuck is all that?! I thought it was all some elaborate joke but nope. The creepiest part was that you could barely hear them unless you got up really close to their carved-out pumpkin mouths. However, if you did that, they'd suddenly garb you—a little too tightly I might add. I eventually dipped out after getting grabbed one too many times. Uh, that party sucked. At least they were all shirtless, so I got something out of it.

Thank god the party wasn't too far from my apartment, so I could clear my head over a nice walk. However, halfway home, I ran into another Jack O'dumb ass.

Aside from the pumpkin on his head, he was carrying one in his hand. He was muttering the same hive-like crap the others were, but I could only focus on that and instead how the carved-out pumpkin he was caring looked exactly my size. It was creepy. I walked past him, trying to ignore him, but the second I had my back to him, he forcefully shoved that disgusting pumpkin he was carrying on my head!

It was so fucking gross, the smell was repulsive—not like a pumpkin, but axe body spray mixed with masculine musk. It was as if my head was shoved in a jock's sweaty pit. The reek instantly made my head spin, causing me to fall to the cold concrete beneath me. I could barely think, my eyes rolling back from the intensity. Suddenly, both my ears were penetrated by something that felt like a vine. I started shaking in pure fear, grasping the ground. The pain was excruciating, but the pleasure of my conscription soon took hold. The vines drained my thoughts—my everything—and replaced them with only what should remain in a pumpkin-head drone. I gasped in agony, not in pain but utter pleasure. It felt so fucking good. I wanted more, so much fucking more.

Within a few seconds, I finally heard the sweet mantra of the pumpkin heads. "The pumpkin heads must grow. All men must be seeded. We must grow. We must seed," I said with a smile, although you couldn't see it behind my new head. I quickly got up from the ground and tore my shirt off, revealing my sweaty ripped abs. How else are you supposed to entice the future recruits, bro?

After all, the pumpkin heads must grow. All men must be seeded. We must grow. We must seed.

Join us, bro.

[tfenjoyer96]

Fuck... my cock is so fucking hard! I could cum any second… BUT, NO! I should fight it! …but, touching it feels so fucking good! Fuuuuuuuuuck, my cock is so fucking hard, and stroking it feels so fucking gooooodddddd. But, I should… STOP! I need to STOP!! …but it feels so good! Being a jock feels so fucking good! I… I… OH FUUUUUUUUCK!!!! FUCK, BRO!!! I'M CUMMING!!! OH MY GOD, I'M CUMMMING AND IT FEELS SO FUCKING GOOD, BRO!!! FUCK YEAH, BROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

[tfenjoyer96]

A Night at the Kings Theatre

The Kings Theatre had been long abandoned by the city for over half a century, haunted by the memory of that fateful night in 1978. No one knows exactly what happened, but from tragedy arose legend. 143 people entered the auditorium that April night, prepared to see a terrifying new film just recently brought to America out of West Germany. "Der Kuss der Lust" was some sort of return to the German Expressionist Horror of the 1920's, a film scarcely heard of outside art houses in Berlin, and the hapless crowd came in droves. By the end of the showing, the police had arrived, the majority of patrons leaving the theatre in handcuffs or straightjackets. The city never released any information on the event, opting instead to board up the grand building and never speak of the subject again. That is, until 2024.

The group stared up at the Grandiose Marquee, excited for the long awaited return of their neighborhood movie palace. The four of them giddy with anticipation, they each had their tickets in hand: all found mysteriously in their post boxes that morning. Teddy stood with his mouth agape in awe at the sheer beauty of the facade, while Rod, Sabrina, and Pete gossiped amongst themselves.

"Yeah, it was literally in my mailbox this morning." Sabrina's characteristic monotone delivery making the two boys snicker.

"Girl I can tell you're sooo excited." Rod rolling his eyes at his roommate, well acquainted with her stoic persona. Pete stood looking down at his phone, trying to browse the theatre website to see what film they were about to be subjected to.

"All it says on here is 'Grand Opening Event.' It doesn't say what movie it is. OH! I bet it's that new one we've been seeing trailers all over the place about! The one with Ryan Gosling and Ross Lynch necking while Jennifer Coolidge just sits there!" Pete's boisterous and brash demeanor yet again shining through. A lack of volume control was a typical symptom of his theatre gay archetype, but nothing his friends were unprepared for.

"Shhhh. Look, they're letting people in!" Teddy hushed his little group, pointing to the tall gentleman at the door, now checking ticket stubs as the patrons slowly trickled inside. Teddy was merely along for the ride, roped into the outing by Rod, who was continuously concerned with his homebody lifestyle. "So we don't know what we're watching tonight, huh?" The three others shrugged.

"Does it really matter? It's something to do, Teddy..." Sabrina scoffing under her breath as they slowly inched toward the front doors. Teddy looked at the ticket man up ahead, his eyes sunken in and hunching over the audience members like Frankenstein's Monster.

"I bet he's in character for the movie! I've heard about this in class. They used to have all the staff act all spooky and improv with the crowd to get them in the mood for the movie! I bet it's a horror movie then!" Pete's enthusiasm was not exactly reciprocated as the boys shrugged and Sabrina rolled her eyes. Teddy felt a twinge of foreboding as they approached the towering man, each handing him their tickets. He stared at the group for a moment, the four tickets just hanging loosely from his grey fingers.

"Uh, are we good to go?" Rod stared at the man, whose head slowly turned down to meet his gaze before a demented grin crawled across his decrepit face. He bowed dramatically, waving his arm to usher them into the building, not a single utterance leaving his blue lips.

"Wow, impressive acting. Let's go, boys." Sabrina pushed the three through the open brass doors, Teddy's gaze having a hard time breaking with the strange man. His grin seemed to melt away almost instantly, returning to stonefaced indifference as he attended to the group behind.

"What the fuck was that?" Teddy turned to his group, Rod the only one taking the time to even acknowledge his query.

"Listen, they're just gettin' you in the mood! Like Pete was saying! Lighten up, man. I promise we'll take you home right after this, and you don't have to come out until next week. And we're doin' karaoke baby!" Rod nudged Teddy, whose response was a coy smile as he stared at his feet. He didn't want to be there, but for the sake of his friends he was making an effort.

The lobby was bright and opulent, the Beaux-Arts architecture perfectly coordinating with the beautiful exterior. Heavy red velvet drapes hung between the marble columns, a grand staircase likely bringing folks to the mezzanine, and a modest but well stocked concessions stand stood in the middle of the room. Historic film posters hung prominently against the walls: Casablanca, Dracula, Gone with the Wind, Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte, Rebel Without A Cause, Rebecca... all with bold 'COMING SOON' stickers plastered against the glass displays.

"I guess they're doing a whole retro movies vibe! Ooh! I wanna come back to see James Dean on the Silver Screen!" Pete jumped excitedly at the prospect, running over to the poster to take a picture as Sabrina walked to concessions to get popcorn. Rod and Teddy stood there, just admiring the grandeur of the space before the chandeliers began to flicker rather ominously.

"I think that means we need to find our seats." Teddy turned to look at Rod, who was squinting at the tickets to see what seat they'd all been assigned.

"We're in something called MEZ? What the fuck does that mean?" Teddy snatched the ticket, pointing to the top of the stairs in response.

"It means mezzanine, we're upstairs." Teddy motioned to Pete to rejoin them just as Sabrina returned with a gigantic barrel of buttery popcorn, munching away. The group ascended the stone stairs, avoiding brushing against the eager spectators as they rushed to their seats.

The auditorium was equally as grand. A massive brass chandelier hung prominently above the house, boxes lining the sides of the walls above row after row of velvet seats. The group made their way to their rows: Rod and Sabrina in row 3, Pete and Teddy in row 2 immediately in front. They took their seats as the vintage concessions ad played on the massive screen. Teddy heard Rod and Sabrina bickering about roomie problems he cared nothing about, as Pete blathered on about the history of the anthropomorphic dancing popcorn box. The mood in the room was one of excitement, of anticipation, yet for Teddy... it was off. The air felt stale and stagnant, the uncanniness of the movie palace long after it's prime seemed to hang differently in his mind. It felt like a time capsule, a liminal space where time had just frozen still, waiting to swallow it's naive visitors. Perhaps it was just the social anxiety, as Rod would likely dismiss it as. Yet, for whatever reason, Teddy sat on edge and alert. The lights began to dim, and a hush fell over the auditorium as previews began to roll for the films advertised in the lobby.

"Ooooooh! Bela Lugosi was so hot. Like seriously." Pete chimed with his typically chipper demeanor, stealthily stealing a handful of Sabrina's popcorn from behind him as they whispered deep in their argument. "Like can you even blame her for falling for him? I mean come on." Teddy just nodded along, peering around him at the crowd of exceedingly normal people watching the old trailer with glee.

The trailers ended with the screams of Bette Davis and Olivia de Havilland; Hush, Hush Sweet Charotte ending it's preview as the room was flooded in blackness. Teddy swore he could faintly hear whispers emanating from all around him in the dark cavern, before the room was once again illuminated as the black and white title card brightly shone on the canvas screen. The words were in a strange font, clearly not in English.

"Durr kusss durr loost... Ahh shit is this some kind of foreign film?" Sabrina sighed and reclined back into her chair, taking solace in the handfuls of popcorn she'd been shoveling into her mouth. Teddy recognized none of the actors names as they quickly flashed before his eyes, nor could he understand any of the words in the opening credits. He didn't speak German, but he couldn't wait to rub the hiccup in Rod's face: yet another social outing turning out completely unintended. Thankfully, as the camera opened onto some old Baroque village, as dialogue began, he was relieved to see English subtitles scurrying at the bottom of the screen.

He struggled to keep up with the narrative, as the translation may have been rather poor to begin with, instead opting to focus on the increasingly strange sets these actors were traversing. From what he could tell, there was a nobleman of some sort who found a village woman he'd fallen in love with. The book was promising powers of love beyond human comprehension, and in his hubris, the nobleman tries to cast a spell of lust on the beautiful young woman.

"I mean look at the set design, it's giving Nosferatu. NO! Cabinet of Dr. Caligari.... Oooh it's so cool!" Rod nudged Pete with his shoe, shushing him as neighboring patrons shoot dirty looks in their direction. Teddy became completely enveloped in the bizarre imagery rather quickly. The film was almost dreamlike in quality, walls seemed to jut out in different directions, the lighting was dim at best and only illuminating essential props or entrances and exits for characters. The sounds of the auditorium slowly faded away into the periphery, and all that could be perceived was the muffled voices of the actors.

Time was not a consistent factor in the film, it just meandered from scene to scene, with disconcerting Dutch angles increasing dread at every turn. What felt like one minute could easily have been twenty, but fortune momentarily smiled on the encapsulated young man. Teddy felt his stomach rumble, momentarily breaking him from his trancelike state to reach behind him into their popcorn bowl. He'd fully expected a wrist slap from Sabrina, but after three or four handfuls of popcorn, that moment never came. This moment of sheer confusion pulled him out of his tunnel vision, if only to reassure Sabrina that he'd pitch in for the popcorn. As he turned around, he was met with a sight he never could have ever imagined.

Sabrina's head was turned toward Rod, and for a moment, Teddy thought they were just whispering to eachother, continuing their asinine argument over who ate the pickle chips the night before. Though as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room around him, it became clearer just what it was they were doing. Her lips were planted firmly on Rod's, his left hand slowly sliding up her thigh. Teddy quickly swiveled his head back to the screen, eyes wide with shock. Rod was a flaming queer, just as he was and just as Pete was. Sure, Sabrina was straight, but he couldn't imagine her boyfriend being thrilled at the sight of Rod necking her in a movie theatre.

"Dude! Look at their facial expressions! You don't even need subtitles, you just need to see their faces!" Pete's voice hummed distantly, being completely ignored by all around him, doing little to aid Teddy's growing discomfort. The sounds of wet, sloppy kissing began to ring out from behind him, their breaths shallow and low. Teddy's eyes darted around him, the faded outlines of the other patrons not getting any clearer, nothing but the film there to distract him. Especially as the sounds of comingling tongues abruptly came to an end, only to quickly be replaced by another more terrifying sound.

*Slurp* *Slurp* *Slurp* *Slurp* "Ahhhh yeah, baby..." It was unmistakable. That was Rod... With each stifled moan, every snarling growl and wet slurp, he could hear his friend's voice growing lower and lower. His growls becoming louder... rougher... more animalistic. Teddy stared forward, beads of sweat starting to seep out of his forehead as he listened to the two most ill-matched people get it on directly behind him. He heard their pace quicken, Sabrina's slurps turning into gags as he heard more bizarre sounds arising from behind. Creaking... The sound of shifting leather, or maybe it was tearing fabric... Or the sound of an inflating balloon... Teddy felt his breath start to quiver, as he looked down between the armrests, seeing Rod's Chuck Taylors start to wriggle and writhe. His eyes widened, seeing the black canvas fabric start to flush white, growing larger and larger. He recognized the Nike symbol starting to protrude from the sides of the sneaker, and as Rod's voice growled into an enraptured release, the Converse were now a pair of large, beat up AirForce1's, covered vulgarities written in black Sharpie. Teddy whipped his head back to the screen, Sabrina giggling as he heard the sound of a waistband snapping back to place. It was silent for a moment, Teddy too nervous to look behind him, but desperately wanting to know what happened to his friends.

"Ahhhhhhh yeah, babe." There was a thud, Teddy peering down to his right and seeing the gigantic sneaker resting on his arm rest. Taking a deep breath, he slowly turned his head. There, leaning forward with his hands on his head was Rod- or at least, someone that once was Rod. The tall, skinny little gay boy he'd befriended had been replaced with a gigantic, tattooed man. His hair cropped short, his muscles bulging, his shirt sitting on his thigh below his exposed torso now adorned with thick silver chains.

"Huhu, my bad, bro. When duty calls, am I right?" Rod grabbed onto his monstrous bulge, hiding behind the cum stained fabric of his white shorts. Teddy felt the blood rush from his head at the very sight of it. He watched as Sabrina, now equally scantily clad with tattoos, jet black hair, and devious grin mischievously slithered her hand beneath his waistband, grabbing ahold of his thick cock and slowly pumping. Rod winked at Teddy, turning again to Sabrina and kissing her once again.

Teddy whipped his head back to the screen, mortified and terrified in equal measure. He looked around him yet again, only seeing once again the dim outlines of the other patrons completely enveloped in the film before them. He turned behind him, doing his best to ignore the slimy sound of Rod's handjob to see the doors had staff members blocking each exit.

"Fuuuuuuck, bro. This shit is tight. Lemme tell you, man. I need this shit on Netflix." Teddy ignored Pete's typical unwarranted commentary, peering down over the house to see if the patrons below were also... different. Through the dark haze of the auditorium, he received his answer. The vast majority of the audience was completely enraptured with the film, not so much as flinching as they watched the nightmarish visions on screen. However, he'd started to notice the dim outlines of a couple people leaning in toward eachother. He couldn't pry his eyes away, so Teddy could only watch as he saw the patrons start to grope, kiss, and go down on eachother. A couple up front necking in the first row, two guys sliding their hands into eachother's pants in box 5, a group of what he'd assumed were bachelorettes just sliding their hands over eachother's breasts.

"Pete... Pete, we gotta get the fuck out of here." Teddy whispered to his friend, not taking his eyes off of the filth that was unraveling around them. Three seats over, one man was now bent over the railing of the balcony, three other men taking turns railing him right there in public to no outcry whatsoever. Teddy whipped his head toward Pete, still intently watching the film. "Pete! Pete, let's go!" He grabbed onto his wrist, feeling a strange rubbery texture tightly wrapped around it. He looked down, watching in terror as his friend's pristine watch slowly warped beneath his hands. Tightening until all that was left were three rubber bracelets in bright vivid colors.

Teddy's gaze slowly rose from his friend's hand as his fingernails slowly turned black. The rotund theatre gay was rapidly losing mass. His tight sweatervest growing looser and looser before his eyes. Fat seemed to shrink into nothingness as the sleeves of his shirt began to slowly rise up the length of his arms.

"Dude... I feel kinda funky, bro." The typical chipper demeanor was slowly vanishing, his eager eyes began to droop, as his short brown hair started to grow. The dark brown hairs quickly were flushed with a wash of bright blonde as it snaked out of his scalp down to the nape of his neck in sweaty, messy curls. His jawline was sharpening, his lips getting plump and thick.

"Pete... PETE!" Teddy screamed at the top of his lungs, not a single patron even flinching at the toil in his voice. "HELP! SOMETHING IS WRONG! SOMETHING IS VERY VERY WRONG!" Teddy shot up out of his seat, his ankle painfully hitting something hard. He peered down to see a heavily used skateboard resting under his friend's feet, absentmindedly rolling side to side as his loafers warped quickly into large, well worn white Vans. Teddy clamped his hand over his mouth as he followed the shifting clothes, up the khakis turning tight and ripped against lean thighs, up to the growing bulge and wet patch bulging out of his groin, up to the studded belt tightly wrapped around his lean waist.

"Heheh..." Pete's voice was growing duller, more coarse as the scent of sweat and cannabis began to waft off him. His sweatervest and shirt shrinking into a sweat stained white tee shirt, and as Teddy's gaze finally fell on Pete's face... he knew he was gone.

"Broooo this shit is sick... Oooh, man. I got a j in my pocket, man. I'll let you hit it if you let me..." Pete's fingers inched toward his belt buckle, slipping under the fabric of his jeans. "C'mon bro. Don't let Rod be the only one gettin' some dick attention tonight." He winked through the colored sunglasses hiding the red, stoned eyes behind.

"I..." Teddy nervously stood there as Pete unbuckled his pants, his twinky, sweaty hand sliding down into his underwear and wrapping around his slowly growing cock.

"Yeah, bro... Come let Petey take care of this." Teddy was lost in a moment of bliss as Pete slowly and tenderly stroked his cock in his pants, igniting the joint between his lips as he pumped.

"Whuh.... Wait... I uh... I need to go to the bathroom. Really bad. I'll be back, just give me a minute..." Pete smirked, letting his hand retract from Teddy's groin.

"Well, don't be too long, bro. My throat is waitin' for ya. Heheh." He stuck out his long tongue with a vulgar whip. Teddy wasted no time bolting toward the door, realizing only as he was chest to chest with the decrepit usher that the restrooms were merely to his right and left. The creepy man flashed the same unhinged smile, not budging an inch. Teddy burst into the men's room, leaning against the ceramic pedestal sink and peering into the mirror. He flipped the faucet, water flowing from the tap as he splashed it against his face. Then, he heard it. The creaking of leather. He looked down at his feet in horror as the New Balance sneakers he sported started to quiver and undulate.

"No... Noo... NOOO." He vigorously splashed his face with the cold water, rubbing his face like a maniac. It was only then that he started to feel the roughness around his upper lip and jaw. He couldn't bring himself to look into the mirror, as he felt hair sprout below his nose and stubble poking around his sharpening jawline. He could only peer down as he slowly began to accept his fate. The sneakers quickly stretched wide and big, a scuffed black leather replacing the grey suede as they shifted into a pair of heavy black harness boots.

His breath grew shallow and rapid, watching his sweatpants suction in tight around his inflating calves and thighs, turning slick and black. The comfortable grey Champion sweats were nearly skintight now, as if painted on atop his lengthening legs. The bottoms slipped into his boots and fastened beneath the damp fabric of his black socks, and the shiny black leather pants began to creak as his own bulge started to grow round and distended. Teddy gasped for air as he felt his shaft stretch out, a foreskin creeping over the head of his weeping cockhead, seeping into the sweat and cum inundated jockstrap now around his waist and thick ass.

"Ohhh... fuuuuuuuck." His fingernails turned black as tattoos began to sprawl from his knuckles up his swelling arms. The sweatshirt he wore felt tighter and tighter as his shoulders broadened and his torso stretched upward, taking on a lighter tone as little tears started to appear around the collar and along the seams. "Unnnnnnnnff" His voice started to dip lower and lower as the heavy sweatshirt's sleeves retracted in toward his shoulders. He felt himself sweating, wiping the sweat from his lowering brow and brushing the now frosted blonde tips of his mullet to the side. He looked at his hands, undeniably his own, yet completely unfamiliar; watching them as they slowly slipped lower toward his throbbing cock. He pulled up his weathered, well loved white tank top, the intricate ink across his rippled abs begging him to go lower and lower, his head throwing itself back as his fingers slipped into his creaking leather pants.

"Brooooooo you in here? What, didja fall in?" As he heard Petey's stoned ass voice echo off the tiled walls, he turned his head as he groped his slimy cock in his pouch. His three friends, vaguely familiar now, all sauntered in looking at him with knowing smirks. "Awww, Theo. I told ya not to get started without me."

Theo leaned on the sink, groping himself with a devilish smirk, beckoning his favorite throat goat to come gobble up his musky rod. Petey took a hit off the joint, handing it to Sabrina before getting on his knees before their bisexual bad boy. He opened his maw, Theo knowing right away what to do as he spit in Petey's eager mouth, and pulled out his throbbing dick. As the skater expertly wrapped his lips around his manhood, Theo turned to Rod and Sabrina, winking. Rod grinned.

"Yeah, boy. Gimme summa that, no homo though, bro." The 6'5 basketball stud sauntered over to his bro, planting a wet kiss onto Theo's supple, cigarette stained lips. As Sabrina took Rod's monstrous cock into her mouth, the four of them fucked in the bathroom surrounded by the stench of sex. Swapping partners at the drop of a hat, sucking face and dick with no hesitation, worshipping Theo & Rod's big smelly feet or railing Petey's tight little hole while Sabrina ate out Theo's sweaty rear. By the time the Usher came in to tell them the film was over, buckets of cum were splattered over the walls, floor, ceiling, and friends.

"Heh, c'mon guys. We can continue this back at my place." Theo wrangled his little posse of fuck buddies out of the bathroom, past the outrageous orgy slapping about in the auditorium. The four walked out of the Kings Theatre, stinking of cum and sweat in the night air, knowing fully well they'd be returning soon enough.

[tfenjoyer96]

"Ugh, bro, pleeeeease?"

Max looked at me with those dopey blue eyes of his, staring dully through me and appearing to lack any kind of intelligence or perception.

"I told you, I have a very important club interview," I replied. "This could determine if I can network into a good job after college!" stressing the importance of a job, something my stoner roommate never seemed to understand.

"Just one hit, man, come on! You gotta stop worrying about that stuff and just chill out!" he replied, stretching his muscular arms over his head of greasy (probably unwashed) brown hair and closing his eyes, as if musing about something important. "You gotta try this weed bro, I just, I-" he stuttered as he took another hit. "I don't fuckin' know man, I think you just need this."

Exasperated, I dropped my heavy bag on the floor and strode over to his side of the room, switching to mouth breathing to avoid inhaling too much foot funk from his "clean pile" of clothes, as Max called it. Even three air fresheners weren't enough to keep the pungent smells of weed and sweat at bay.

"What the hell, dude, when's the last time you even washed those?!"

"Oh, I dunno, a couple weeks ago, maybe?" Max replied, shrugging.

I could see some of the dried crust still clinging to the fabric. I couldn't help but be amazed at the sheer size of his stash. The pile was easily four feet across, and it was clear Max was still working to roll his way through the rest. I couldn't even imagine where he got it all.

"Look, just let me finish my meeting, then I'll smoke with you, okay?"

Max's eyes lit up.

"Yeah, for real?" he replied, excited. "You promise? Pinky swear?"

Max stuck his hand out, his pinky raised and his arm shaking slightly. He looked like an overgrown child. I was so tired, I didn't even hesitate. I wrapped my pinky around his, then turned to walk out of the room. As soon as I let go, I felt a sudden, powerful wave of euphoria wash over me. It was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. I couldn't even think straight, the sensation was so intense.

I collapsed against the doorway, unable to move. I could barely even think. The only thought that went through my mind was that I'd never felt this good in my life. Every inch of my skin tingled and buzzed, like a pleasant static that sent ripples of bliss through my muscles. I couldn't even control the way my body twitched and shivered.

"Duuuude," I heard Max say. "You feel that, man? I told you it's the good stuff."

I didn't know what was happening to me. My heart was racing and I couldn't breathe, and the feeling was getting more and more intense. "What..." I struggled to even sound out words. "I didn't even...take a hit..."

"Well, no, not technically," Max said, laughing. "But, uh, that's not what it was, actually. See, I sorta dosed your pinky."

I looked up at him, confused. My vision was blurry and I could barely see him, but he was grinning widely, and I could see the outline of his meaty, calloused hands rubbing the front of his jeans.

"See, it's like this, man. That wasn't weed. That was just, you know, a little something to get you to loosen up a bit. And, uh, well, there's this other thing, too. That shit I sprayed on your hand. It's not, uh, not exactly what you think."

The euphoria was fading, but it was still intense, and it was making my brain spin. "You sprayed my...hand?" I mumbled, barely able to understand what he was saying.

"Yeah, bro, I sorta had to, man. You kept getting me down with all your stress." He flexed his big biceps and gave one a kiss. "Now you're gonna be just like me!" He grinned wide, his perfect teeth glinting in the low light.

I couldn't respond. The sensations were still washing over me, but the euphoria was fading. As my brain began to work again, I suddenly realized that there was something wrong with me. There was a new, alien weight between my legs.

"Wha-what did you do?" I stammered, still dazed and confused. "What...what did you..."

I looked down, and froze. There was a huge, heavy bulge straining against the crotch of my jeans, stretching the thick material taut. It was huge. Like, absolutely massive. It was easily the size of my fist, maybe even bigger. It was so big and round, I could even see the outline of the individual balls.

"Duuuuude, bro, look at that fucking thing!" Max exclaimed, pointing and laughing. "It's totally fucking huge! Holy shit, man, it's the biggest cock I've ever seen in my life!"

I tried to speak, but I was still so confused, I couldn't get my mouth to form words.

"I didn't know they could get that big, man! Wow, bro, you're really packing a fucking cannon, you know that? Holy shit, it's so fucking hot." Max was practically drooling as he ogled the enormous bulge in my pants.

I could feel the heat radiating off of it, and I could tell it was pulsing and throbbing with each beat of my heart. The sensation was incredibly intense.

"It's...it's not possible..." I stammered, my voice cracking. "What...what did you spray?"

"Bro, I'm telling you, it's totally normal!" Max said, trying his best to sound reassuring. "My friend from home, he said, well, it's just that..." Max stammered again, his usually peaceful face betraying some shyness. "I've always thought you were cute, even without that package. You just needed to loosen up a little. And, I mean, I just wanted you to be, like, comfortable with me. It was just a little bit, man, and it was totally safe. Like, I swear, it's totally normal, dude." He grinned and shot me a wink. "Soon you're going to be just like me."

Max was still staring at the massive bulge, and I could see the outline of his huge dick stretching the crotch of his jeans.

"Dude, bro, I-" my hand shot to my mouth. I had never used those words in the same sentence before! "I...I didn't mean that!"

"Oh, yeah, dude," Max replied, not even noticing. "It's totally normal, bro. You're just a little high is all."

"High?!" I shouted, exasperated. "This isn't...I'm not...this isn't how people talk!"

Max just shrugged. "Bro, you've always been a nerd, and it's cool, man, I totally get it. But this is a big step forward. You're gonna love this. I swear."

I couldn't believe this was happening. I was still trying to process everything that was happening to me, when I heard Max's voice.

"Duuuuuude, check it out, bro," he said, gesturing to the bulge in his jeans. "We're, like, totally packing!"

"I can't..."

"Oh, shit, right. Dude, you gotta feel this."

Max quickly reached down and grabbed the bulge in my pants. As soon as he made contact, I felt a powerful surge of pleasure ripple through me. My body immediately responded to his touch, and I could feel my new cock throb and twitch. I groaned, unable to hold back the sounds.

"Dude, holy shit, bro, it's like, really sensitive or something," Max said, his eyes wide. "Like, really, really fucking sensitive, bro."

"No, it's...not..." I moaned, but I could tell it was a lie. It felt like Max's hand was squeezing my balls, and the pleasure was incredible.

"Fuck, bro, it's, like, really fucking sensitive, dude. Like, fucking, crazy fucking sensitive." Max was practically drooling, and his eyes were glazed over. He was clearly enjoying this a lot.

"Please, stop..."

"Fuck, bro, you're so fucking hard," Max groaned. He started to rub my bulge, and his other hand went to the front of his own jeans. "...and, you're so pretty too. I just don't want to lose you to all those meetings, bro. I want you to be with me."

"Wait, no, what are you doing?"

"I can't hold back anymore, dude, I gotta see your big dick," Max replied, unzipping my jeans and reaching in. He slowly pulled down, and my eyes widened as he revealed the huge, throbbing bulge in my underwear. It was so big, the fabric was stretched tight, and it was already soaked in pre-cum.

"Holy shit, dude, that thing is huge!" Max exclaimed, his voice cracking. He was staring at my huge bulge with a lustful expression, and his long tongue darted out to lick his lips. "It's, like, fucking, massive."

I looked down and was shocked by what I saw. It was easily twice as big as it had been just a few minutes ago. It was still growing, and it was stretching the fabric of my boxer-briefs to the limit. Max began to move closer, scrambling to take off his busted old t-shirt, meaty pecs and perfect washboard abs busting out as he did. He leaned forward, and his massive bicep brushed against my new rock-hard dick.

"Oh, shit, bro, fuck," Max moaned as he leaned in closer. At this point I could almost feel the waves of sweat and weed rolling off his huge body, and my cock was throbbing and leaking, straining against the tight fabric of my underwear.

"You're so hot, dude," Max said, reaching out to grab my huge bulge, wrapping his meaty hand around it. His hand was warm and rough, and his grip was strong, squeezing my bulge and causing a fresh burst of pleasure. "You're, like, fucking sexy as hell, man."

"What the hell, bro, no, that's not...that's not right!" I stammered, but Max's words sent a thrill through me. I could feel my cheeks burning, and I could feel the heat radiating from my skin. "That's not, I'm not a fag!"

"You sure about that, bro?" he asked, giving it a tug and sending a bolt of pleasure through my body. I felt the euphoria return. This time, it was a hundred times more intense.

"Fuuuuck," I groaned, leaning my head back. "Bro, it feels so fucking good."

"I know, right? And it's going to feel even better when you're a stoner like me, dude." Max replied, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Fuck, bro, I can't take it, I gotta get naked," Max moaned, frantically undoing his belt and shucking his pants. "I'm so fucking hard, bro, I can't wait to fuck you."

I looked down, and for the first time, got a good look at my new equipment. It was absolutely massive. It was huge and thick, easily the biggest cock I'd ever seen, and it was still growing. It was 10 inches long, and thicker than a beer can. My balls were huge, too, hanging heavy and swollen between my legs. I'd never felt anything like it.

The sensation continued to wash over me, slowly becoming heat as I began to sweat. It felt amazing. I couldn't control myself, I was already starting to moan and groan, and the euphoria was starting to mix with my arousal. My new cock was so sensitive, and the slightest touch made it throb and pulse.

"It's starting!" Max shouted, looking at my side of the room as my clean and organized things started to transform. My desk became cluttered with bongs and pipes, and posters of the periodic table were suddenly replaced by scantily clad men. My clothes started to change, too. My formerly neat shirts were suddenly full of holes and stained with various substances. My shoes were replaced with flip flops and Crocs.

"I can't take it, man, I'm too horny, I need to kiss you, right now," Max moaned, his voice shaking with desperation. "I've been waiting for this day, dude, and I can't hold back any longer."

Before I could protest, Max leaned in and kissed me, his big, thick tongue probing my mouth. The heat was overwhelming, and his kisses were passionate and hungry. His big, rough hands began to explore my body, rubbing and stroking and caressing every inch of me. He broke away from the kiss and buried his face in my neck, licking and nibbling and kissing. He was so close, I could feel the heat from his body, and I could smell the overpowering funk of stale sweat and reeking weed. It was so powerful I almost didn't notice my feet begin to ache and the pain in my lower back.

"What's...what's happening to me, bro?" I asked, my voice breaking. "I feel...I feel like...fuck, bro, it hurts!"

"You're changing, dude," Max replied, grinning. "It's the weed. You're finally becoming one with the bud."

"Fuck, bro, I can't hold back anymore," Max moaned. He reached down and began to stroke his giant cock, pre-cum pouring from the tip. It was easily 9 inches, and his massive balls were swollen and heavy with greasy, unwashed hair.

My feet continued to ache and burn as they stretched out, becoming bigger and broader. I could feel my bones shifting and rearranging, long tufts of sweaty hair sprouting out of my feet as they morphed into giant, hairy stumps. I couldn't believe it. The changes were getting more and more intense, and it was driving me wild. I felt like I was going to explode.

"I can't take it anymore," Max groaned, his voice a husky growl. " I have to make you mine."

Without hesitation, Max grabbed my shoulders and spun me around, pushing me face-first into my mattress. His hands were rough and strong, and he easily manhandled me.

"Holy fuck, dude, your ass, it's..." Max moaned, his voice filled with lust. "It's so fucking huge."

My ass was getting bigger and rounder, and it was stretching the seat of my boxer-briefs to the limits, and I felt a sharp, sudden pain as the fabric gave way and tore, leaving my huge, jiggly, fat, bubble butt exposed.

"I'm so horny, bro" Max moaned, his voice shaky and breathy, as my ass filled with greasy, oily stink, the air thick with the musk of unwashed flesh and reeking, unwashed funk.

"You're so hot, dude. It's so hot that you're getting stoned."

"What? Bro, that's not...wait!"

"Don't worry, dude, you'll get used to it. It's just the weed talking."

"No, wait, bro, you can't..." I moaned again as my legs began to push me taller, my thighs and calves widening and thickening. My feet swelled even more, filling to a size 13, and a sudden rush of heat swept over my body.

"Fuck, dude, you're so fucking hot, man," Max groaned, his voice thick with lust, rubbing my new, tick legs as dark, swirly hair began to sprout, quickly becoming matted with the sweat of hours upon hours of mindless smoking.

"Please, bro, stop," I moaned, as my body began to shake. "I can't take it, I'm gonna...I'm gonna cum."

"Dude, that's the whole point, bro," Max replied, his voice trembling. "Just relax, and let it happen. It's gonna feel so fucking good."

"It's too much," I moaned, my cock throbbing and pulsing. "It's too intense."

"I know, dude, it's just the weed, bro. It'll feel better after you get used to it. Trust me."

I could feel the hair begin to creep onto my stomach and chest, quickly spreading and covering me in a layer of greasy, foul-smelling, sweaty body hair.

"Dude, are you seriously not feeling this, too?" I asked, my voice cracking. "Bro, I can't take it, please, just stop, it's too much."

"Dude, chill, you're fine," Max replied, flipping me back over and rubbing his hand over my new abs and thickening pecs. "Just enjoy the ride."

"Wait, no, I'm not...fuuuuck!"

The sensation was so intense, it was driving me wild. I could barely even think. My pecs were growing larger and heavier, and my nipples were swelling and darkening, the areolae growing thicker and hairier.

"Fuuuuuck, dude, you're so fucking sexy," Max groaned, grabbing a fistful of hair and giving it a sharp tug, making me moan with pleasure.

My cock was throbbing and leaking pre-cum, and I could feel the heat coming from it. My balls were swollen and heavy, and they were aching for release.

"Fuck, dude, I can't take it," Max moaned, his voice filled with desperation, shoving his face into my pit as they began to grow and deepen, quickly filling with rank, musky body odor. As he licked, my arms grew longer and wider, my biceps and triceps growing thicker and bulkier. My forearms became thicker and more defined, and my hands and fingers were getting bigger and beefier.

"Bro, it's so fucking good." Max's voice was muffled by my armpit, and I could feel his tongue lapping up the stale sweat and musk.

My arms were now completely covered in thick, greasy, matted hair, and the same was happening to my back, the swirly pattern spreading like a wildfire. My shoulders were growing larger and rounder, and I could feel the muscles shifting and rearranging.

"Please, dude, don't...I can't..."

"I can't stop, bro, you're so hot," Max moaned, his face buried in my pit. I could smell our odors mixing together as our muscular bodies writhed against each other, slick with sweat and the stinking smell of weed.

I was so turned on.

"You're so hot, bro," Max moaned, his pre-cum leaking all over the place.

"No, bro, what?" I moaned, my voice trembling. "I'm not a faggot."

"That's just the weed, dude," Max replied, his voice low and husky. "You're gonna love it."

"Please, no," I moaned, but I knew he was right. I was so turned on, and the weed was driving me wild as my neck and jaw began to fill out and widen, my Adam's apple growing into a large, meaty knob.

I moaned as my voice deepened, the vibrations reverberating through me, causing me to shiver, my speech becoming permanently relaxed, just like my roommate's.

"Fuck," Max groaned, going in for a slobbery, wet kiss, our body heat generating enough stink to make me gag.

My body was now covered in matted, swirly body hair, and it was growing thicker and greasier, the same thing happening to my chest. I could feel my pecs bulging even more as my face was being smothered in kisses and licks, my nose cracking into a previously-broken shape and the skin becoming rough and scarred.

"Oh, fuck, dude, you're so fucking hot," Max moaned, burying his face in my thick neck, his voice muffled by the hair.

"No, please, bro," I moaned, my voice cracking. "I can't take it, it's too much."

"You can do it, bro, just hold on a little longer," Max replied, his voice shaky.

My tongue grew thicker and longer, and it started to loll out of my mouth, my face cracking into model-level handsomeness. I was so turned on, and I couldn't take it anymore. My balls were throbbing and pulsing, and my cock was throbbing and pulsing.

"I'm gonna cum," I moaned, my voice deep and slow.

"Do it, bro," Max moaned, his voice trembling. "Do it, cum all over me, bro."

I felt his fingers run across my short hair, sending a shiver down my spine. My body was wracked with pleasure as I felt ropes of rancid, stinking cum shoot from my cock, splattering his chest and stomach. I couldn't control myself, I was moaning and groaning, the intense orgasm rocking my body, my new, masculine frame shaking and quivering.

With each rope, my bright green eyes became dimmer and dimmer, coloring grayer and grayer as all of my worries and stress flowed out of me, and I fell into a state of bliss, my cock still twitching and throbbing as the last change began. My hair grew longer and thicker, until it was a long, shaggy, dirty mess, and a fresh wave of fresh musk rose off me.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck," I moaned, my voice deep and slow, my tongue lolling out of my mouth.

"Fuck, dude, you're so fucking sexy," Max moaned, his voice cracking. "I can't believe it, dude. You're, like, totally a stoner now, bro."

"Haha, yeah man...wait bro, haven't I always been?" I looked at myself in the dingy dorm mirror, and realized I looked like a dumb, stoned idiot. My voice was deeper, and my accent was different. My hair was messy and unwashed, and my skin was tanned. My pecs were massive and my abs were rock hard. My cock was huge and throbbing. My feet were hairy and stinky. I had a huge, round, bubble butt.

I laughed a deep, airy chuckle.

"That's right" Max said, staring into my dull eyes. He seemed like the hottest man I had ever laid eyes on until I realized.

"I love you, dude." Max giggled.

"Yeah man, I love you, too" I slurred, leaning in for a sloppy kiss, my tongue probing his mouth, the taste of weed and sweat overwhelming. He returned the favor, and soon, we were a mess of sloppy, stoner kisses, our thick, stubbly chins rubbing together, the sound of slurping and licking filling the room.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck," I groaned, the kiss ending, both of us breathing heavy and panting, a mixture of spit dripping from our chins. "That was, like, totally amazing, dude."

"Fuck, yeah, bro, it was fucking awesome," Max groaned, his voice trembling. "I've been waiting for this for, like, ever, bro. It's fucking crazy."

"Yeah, dude, totally," I replied, staring at his gorgeous, masculine features. His big, thick arms, his perfect washboard abs, his massive pecs, and his perfect, handsome face. He was fucking hot, and he was all mine.

[tfenjoyer96]

A wrestling coach’s hopes for his team have some- unintended consequences. 

 Sick of his team’s losing streak, the college’s wrestling coach began administering testosterone treatments to his boys in an effort to enhance their performance on the mat. 

 Zach Christie, one of the team captains, was coach’s first test subject. The senior had initially been reluctant; worried about getting into any trouble in his final wrestling season of college. He eventually agreed, and as the weekly treatments progressed, Zach had to admit that he was enjoying the results. He seemed to gain muscle daily. He’d never bulked up this quickly before. Within a few weeks, his sense of confidence went through the roof, and Zach started to dominate most of his competition on the mat. His appetite went wild, and his buddies made fun of how much he food he began to put down in the dining hall every night. 

 As Coach spread his performance-enhancing program to the rest of the team, Zach watched as his teammates went through similar changes. It filled the senior captain with pride as his teammates bulked and changed. He even helped Coach start injecting some of the guys, and convinced some of the holdouts on the team to start the process. The team started to win every match. They all became more popular and well-known on campus. Drunk on success, each wrestler slowly gave into the performance enhancing program. 

When Coach discovered with horror that his “back-alley” source for the injections had been saving on costs by mixing synthetic chemicals with testosterone sourced from gorillas, he realized that he had probably made a mistake, that he had put his boys at too much risk. But his realization came too late.

Racing back to the school, he found his team gathered in the locker room. His jaw dropped as he looked out over a chaotic scene; his boys in various states of change. A dozen or so sat mostly naked on the benches facing each other, jerking off with abandon, letting out guttural grunts and deepening growls as gigantic, hairy arms pumped their enlarged cocks. It dawned on coach that the changes were speeding up now, and that the boys shamelessly beating off looked to be the furthest along. They looked… almost like… cavemen.  

 On the other side of the room, another ten or twelve guys, roughly lined up, waiting to take their latest treatment from Zach- or what used to be Zach. Coach looked in awe at the 6′5 beast struggling to measure out solution from the vials- his now prominent brow furrowing in frustration and confusion as fine motor skills left his growing, thickening hands.  

Coach snapped out of his stunned state when Tyler Kim, a sophomore who had been one of the later adopters of coach’s injections, staggered over, tears in his eyes. 

“Coach, what the fuck is happening to us??” he demanded, grabbing Coach’s shoulders. “What is IN this stuff you’ve been giving us? LOOK at us!” he gestured wildly to his teammates beating off. Coach was dumbstruck. 

Tyler had been a lightweight on the team, a pretty late bloomer- Coach realized now he must have but on 30 lbs of muscle in the past few weeks, even looked a bit taller, even. Thick pubes peeked above the waistband of his underwear and spread up in a thick, black trail almost to his chest. 

“I - Tyler, I.. made a mistake..” 

“Fuck!” Tyler hollered, turning away slightly, clenching his fists. In spite of his fear and frustration, a noticeble bulge began to form in his underwear. 

“Tyler, listen, this has all gone wrong but we’re going to fix things - what’s important is you boys can’t take more. We have to stop it.” 

Tyler turned back to Coach, his face set anger. “I just DID take more. Zach made us.” His voice had an uncharacteristic gravelly tone. 

“Ok, listen, we’ve got to-” 

Coach stopped mid-sentence Tyler suddenly grimaced, putting his hands to his head in pain. Coach saw that the wresler’s forearms and biceps looked even larger than they had minutes ago- no- it couldn’t be - and small dark hairs seemed to have begun to sprout on his arms and shoulders. 

“You’ve gotta help me, Coach, ow! AHGH.” Tyler squatted on the floor, clutching the sides of his head. Coach’s heart beat in his throat, and he was at a loss for what to do. Bending down, he leveled with Tyler as he breathed hard and his pumped muscle seem to swell with each heave. 

“I don’t wanna be like them coach” Tyler sobbed “My HEAD. AHHG. No- NO. Fuck… but… but…” Tyler’s voice trailed off as his hand travelled to the eight inch cock straining at the fabric of his underwear. “…But it feels… goooood.” 

“Tyler? No- what are you..” Coach recoiled slightly as Tyler’s eyes went blank and face slackened. Tyler’s hand travelled to his now obscene bulge and pushed his waistband down. Out flopped a nine-inch, caramel-brown dick ringed with a jungle of wiry, black hair. Beneath it, kiwi-sized nuts hung in a dark, hairy sack. From Tyler’s crouched stance, his nuts drooped onto the cold tile floor. 

The sophomore’s resistance faded as he began to stroke. “Ugh, I can feel it…in my nuts coach - Fuuuuckk feels so goooood. Huh-huh fuuck, can’t stoop…feels so - goooddd.” Coach looked on in horror as Tyler’s young face began to subtly deform, his features intensifying and hardening.  

“Tyler, listen, you gotta stop, we can-” 

“Stoopp?” Tyler muttered dumbly “No stop.” 

The young wrestler moaned and threw his head back as he gave into the changes wracking his body and mind. His growing hand picked up pace on his hairy cock. Suddenly, a loud ‘POP’ and ‘CRAACK’  pushed his brow outward and his nose wider. “OW! Ughh fuck Coach.” 

Coach watched in fear and awe as Tyler surrendered to the accelerating changes. This had not been the plan. 

The din of grunts and hollers in the locker room only grew louder as more boys embraced their changes and left their modern humanity behind. Tommy Disilva, a Junior, had been an early convert to Coach’s program. A good student and talented wrestler, he had always struggled with the balancing act of athletics and academic pursuits. It had felt good to finally jump at the chance to solidify his identity on the wrestling team- to be one of the guys. Once he experienced those first few muscle pumps with Coach’s performance program, he was done for. He dove in head first to all aspects of the team. 

He was the first of the team to bust his load in the locker room that day, too, and with it, what remained of his old self.  “Fuuuuck yeahhh broooughhhhhh!” Tommy roared, beating his hairying chest proudly as his teammates hooted and hollered around him on the benches. After seeing their bro’s example, the boys rapidly began to release, one after the other,  as their own treatments devolved their DNA from the inside out.  

“Coaachh- You need try. Huh-huh.” Tyler spoke in broken English as he slid a used vial of the synthetic testosterone across the floor, laughing dumbly. The boy looked like a halfway to Neanderthal.  The vial rolled close to Coach’s hand, mostly empty but leaking a small bit of the clearish-blue fluid.  Coach knocked it away from him, beginning to panic. He needed to get out of here. Scrambling up from the floor, he half-ran to the locker room door, planning to head to his office and get the hell out. He nearly screamed when he opened the door to Zach, hulking in the doorway, nearly two heads taller than Coach and twice as wide. Coach winced as pungent smells of BO,  earth, woods, and spice emanated from the creature Zach was becoming. The creature Coach had made him. 

“Coach take too” Zach smiled dumbly, and putting one meaty hand on Coach’s shoulder, holding up another vial with the other. “Coach be like us.”