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[tfreblogs]

Barbearcue

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[tfreblogs]

"I'm sorry, I don't think you're a good fit for this position. But I do have something in mind for you..."

The words hung in the air with a certain weight—calm, final, but not unkind. The sunlight streaming in through the high windows of the interview room had mellowed into a golden sheen, the late-afternoon kind that slanted just right to cast long, sleepy shadows on the table. Bradley Sutter sat across from Mr. Renshaw, arms folded tightly, unsure how to respond.

Bradley had worn his best suit for this meeting. Charcoal gray, subtle pinstripes, a conservative tie. His résumé was impeccable. MBA from Wharton, two internships, a promising stint in analytics at a mid-tier consultancy. His shoes were still shining with this morning’s polish, though he found himself shifting his feet uncomfortably in them. For some reason, they felt tighter than they had during the walk in.

“Something else?” Bradley asked, puzzled. “I was hoping to discuss the strategic operations role. I thought the interview was going well.”

Mr. Renshaw offered a small, practiced smile—the kind people in corporate offices give just before redirecting your entire trajectory. “You’re not quite what we’re looking for in strategy,” he said evenly, “but I think you’ve been miscategorized. You strike me as someone... with practical strengths.”

Bradley frowned. “I’m not sure I follow.”

Renshaw leaned back slightly in his chair, fingers steepled. “Bradley, when you’re not analyzing spreadsheets or preparing slide decks, what do you enjoy?”

Bradley hesitated. “I—I mean, I read. Hike. Occasionally work on my car. But that’s just a hobby.”

“Interesting,” Renshaw said, glancing at the papers in front of him as though reviewing something more fundamental than a résumé. “I don’t think it is just a hobby. You’re a hands-on man. Aren’t you?”

There was a dull warmth spreading across Bradley’s chest, almost like sunlight on skin. He shifted in his seat again, loosening his tie—which he realized wasn’t there anymore. His collar was open, the shirt beneath rougher than it should have been. He looked down and furrowed his brow. Was he... wearing a different shirt?

The fabric wasn’t crisp cotton anymore. It had the weight and stiffness of denim, with a darker patch where something—maybe oil?—had soaked in long ago. His fingers, when they brushed it, felt broader, rougher. They left faint smudges. Grease? The nails were darker than he remembered, edges square and flat. They looked... used.

“I—I don’t think I’m the guy you’re looking for,” he said, voice faltering slightly. It sounded different in his ears. Lower. A little hoarse.

“But I do,” Renshaw replied calmly. “Let’s talk about your work ethic. You’re always the first one in, and you don’t clock out until the last tool’s back in the drawer. That’s been your pattern for years, hasn’t it?”

Bradley opened his mouth to disagree, but nothing came out right away. Instead, he gave a slow nod. “Well... yeah, I s’pose I like seein’ a job through,” he said, the syllables dragging slightly, as if coated in dust. “Ain’t no sense quittin’ when you’re half done.”

A flicker of confusion crossed his face, but faded almost instantly. His back ached faintly, like he’d spent all day on his feet. His shoulders were tight, heavy with the sort of tension that didn’t come from spreadsheets. The sleeves of his shirt—no, coverall, he now realized—were rolled up just below the elbows, exposing thick forearms dusted with dark hair. His skin had deepened a shade, sun-worn and marked with years of small nicks and oil stains that wouldn’t scrub out no matter how hard he tried.

“I can tell you take pride in what you do,” Renshaw said, glancing at his notes again. “The guys downstairs say there’s no one better with diesel diagnostics. That true?”

Bradley—no, Josh—scratched at his chin thoughtfully, the rasp of callused fingers on stubble filling the space between them. “Well, I don’t like to brag,” he muttered in a low drawl, “but yeah, I got a feel for it. You listen close, you can tell a clogged injector from a slipped timing belt.”

“Of course,” said Renshaw. “You always had good ears.”

Josh nodded slowly. His neck was thicker now, the line of his jaw broader and more square. His cheeks carried the shadow of a beard that never quite disappeared, even when he shaved. A ring of sweat had formed beneath his collar, soaking into the worn fabric of his coveralls. His name was stitched on the chest in red thread over white: Josh Mallory.

Renshaw didn’t seem surprised to see it. “Isn’t that right, Josh?”

Josh blinked once, then broke into a grin. “Yeah,” he said, chuckling. “Sure is.”

He reached up to run a hand through his hair—it was cropped close now, a simple, no-nonsense cut. His fingers caught briefly on the grit of the day’s work still lingering along his scalp. The faint scent of motor oil, sweat, and clean steel lingered on his skin. He didn’t mind it. Never had.

“Well,” Renshaw said, standing and collecting the paperwork into a folder labeled Employee Check-In. “That’s all I needed. Thanks for making time this afternoon.”

Josh pushed back his chair and stood, his broad chest stretching the front of his uniform slightly. “No problem. Let me know if y’all need anything else.”

He shook Renshaw’s hand—strong grip, firm and practiced—and turned to leave.

“Oh, and Josh?” Renshaw said, just before he opened the door.

“Yeah?”

“You’ve been with us for over ten years now. Hell of a run.”

Josh gave a slight laugh, the corner of his mouth curling with pride. “Damn right. Ain’t no place I’d rather be.”

And just like that, he stepped out into the hallway, the muffled clanks of tools and distant engine rumbles filtering up from below. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead. A few younger guys passed by, nodding as they saw him.

“Afternoon, Mallory.”

“Boss was lookin’ for ya earlier.”

Josh nodded. “Just had a quick check-in upstairs. I’m headed back now.”

They didn’t question it. Why would they? Everyone knew Josh Mallory had been here forever.

[tfreblogs]

Swapped At Birth.... With Dad?!

(AI-Generated - My 1000th post on this blog! Let's celebrate it with an utterly perverse story featuring one of my absolute favourite TF themes; to find out you've been swapped at birth! Bring some tissues and enjoy! /Verus)

Liam, at eighteen, had never felt at home in his own skin. Lean, smooth, with sharp green eyes and a mop of dark hair, he stood apart from his family—his burly, hairy father, Joel, and his petite, nervous mother, Karen. Their suburban house was a pressure cooker for Liam’s secrets: his homosexuality and a perverse, years-long obsession with his father’s thick, hairy body. 

Joel, forty-two, was an office manager with a thick beard, a furry belly that strained his khaki pants, and a scent of sweat and cedar that drove Liam wild. Late at night, Liam would sneak into the laundry, burying his face in Joel’s sweat-stained shirts, inhaling the primal musk, jerking off to visions of his dad’s hairy chest, rough hands, and the commanding way he filled a room.

It was a shameful fixation, one he’d never dared voice, until a government letter upended their lives.

The letter arrived on a Tuesday, sealed with a cryptic insignia. Karen opened it, her hands trembling as she read aloud: Liam had been “swapped at birth” due to a rare quantum anomaly, his mind had jumped into another body during delivery. A secret department was contacting affected families, summoning them to a facility to learn the truth. Liam’s heart raced—fear, hope, and a twisted thrill coiled in his gut. Who could he possibly be? A boy from another family?

Joel the father scoffed, tossing the letter onto the kitchen counter. “Bunch of nonsense.” 

But Karen’s voice quivered as she recalled her husband suddenly fainting during Liam’s birth, waking up with amnesia for a month. “You were… different after, Joel. Maybe this can explain why…” 

They drove to the facility the next day, Liam buzzing with anticipation, his cock half-hard in his jeans at the possibilities of his real identity. Joel sat silent, his hairy hands gripping the wheel, dread etched into his bearded face.

In a sterile room, the air humming with machinery, a wiry scientist explained. “At birth, Liam’s consciousness swapped with another’s due to a quantum anomaly. His current body isn’t his biological one.”

Liam leaned forward, pulse hammering, his erection pressing against his zipper. “Who’d I swap with? Who am I really?” 

The scientist hesitated, glancing at Joel, then dropped the bomb. “Your father, Joel. Liam’s mind is in Joel’s biological body, and Joel’s mind is in Liam’s.” 

The room tilted. Karen gasped, clutching her purse. Joel’s face went pale, his meaty hands trembling.

“That’s impossible,” the father growled, voice cracking. “I’m me. I’ve always been me!” 

Liam, though, felt a surge of perverse ecstasy, his cock throbbing painfully. He was his own father? That hairy, beefy, musky body he’d lusted after was his? His mind flooded with images of Joel’s hairy chest jiggling as he walked, his armpits dripping after a long day, his cock heavy in his khakis. Liam bit his lip, stifling a moan, precum soaking his boxers.

The scientist pressed on. “Karen, you mentioned Joel’s amnesia post-birth. That aligns with the swap. Liam, as a baby’s mind forced into an adult body, had to adapt and assume his new identity. Joel, in the baby’s body, retained no memories as the shock erased his past adult life.”

Karen nodded slowly, her eyes with a glimmer of slow realization. “He was… off for weeks. Confused, distant, as if he didn’t recognize himself. I had to teach him everything anew.” 

Joel slammed a fist on the table, his voice raw. “This is bullshit! I can’t be my own son!” 

Liam barely heard, his body thrumming with desire. He stared at his furious father—his rightful body—imagining burying his face in that hairy chest, licking the sweat from his pits, owning every musky inch.

“Holy fuck, that’s me…” he whispered, voice low, his erection aching as he shifted in his seat. 

The scientist cleared his throat. “Per regulation, now that Liam’s eighteen, the swap must be reversed tomorrow, regardless of consent.”

Joel’s eyes widened, horror carving lines into his face. Liam’s lips curled into a wicked grin, his cock leaking at the thought of claiming his birthright. “Give it back, Dad” he said, voice thick with lust, locking eyes with his father Joel. “That body, your life, it’s mine. Always has been!”

Joel recoiled, his beard quivering. “Y-You don’t want this, Liam. My body’s a wreck, so hairy, constantly sweaty, and literally falling apart. I’m forty-two, stuck in a boring office job, pushing papers all day. You’ll lose twenty-four years of your life!” 

Liam’s grin widened, his mind painting a vivid picture: himself as his father Joel, sitting at a desk, shirt stained with sweat marks under his pits, the musk of his hairy body filling the cubicle, colleagues staring at his commanding bulk.

“Oh, I want it,” he purred, leaning forward, voice dripping with depravity. “I want every hairy inch, every drop of sweat, that boring job, all of it. It’s mine, Dad, and I’m taking it back.” 

Joel’s face crumpled, his voice a plea. “You’re young, Liam. You’ve got your whole life. Don’t throw it away for… for this!” He gestured at his hairy thick frame, but Liam’s eyes gleamed, devouring the chest, the hair, the man he was destined to become. Or to be more correct, the man he had always been.

—

Back home, the house was a pressure cooker. Joel locked himself in the garage, his despair a heavy cloud. Karen paced, muttering about fate, her eyes red. Liam, though, was alight with perverse hunger, his cock hard as he slipped into his parents’ bedroom. He threw open Joel’s closet, the scent hitting him, cedar, sweat, and musk. He grabbed a flannel shirt, pressing it to his nose, inhaling so deeply his head spun, the musky tang making him moan. 

“This is mine,” he growled, snatching a pair of khaki pants, their worn fabric heavy with Joel’s essence. He stripped to his boxers, the air cool against his lean frame, and slipped on the shirt, buttons straining, then the pants, loose but intoxicating. In the mirror, he looked absurd—too slim for his dad’s clothes—but the fantasy of filling them with Joel’s thick, hairy bulk sent shivers through him.

He rubbed his cock through the khakis, the fabric slick with precum, moaning, “Soon, I’ll be you, Dad. Sweating in these, waddling through your office, stinking of you.” He came in the pants, shuddering, the mess a promise of the life he’d claim.

That night, Liam knocked on Joel’s door, voice firm. “Dad, we need to talk.” 

Joel, slumped on the couch, looked shattered, his beard flecked with sweat, eyes hollow with dread. “What’s there to say? I can’t believe this isn’t my life, my real body...”

Liam’s gaze devoured Joel’s body—his original body—lingering on the hairy forearms, the furry chest straining his tee, the faint musk wafting from him. “I want to see it. My body. Before tomorrow.” 

Joel flinched, shaking his head. “That’s sick, Liam. You don’t know what you’re asking.”

Liam stepped closer, voice low, dripping with lust. “It’s mine, Dad. My birthright. I need to feel what’s always been mine.” Joel’s shoulders sagged, too broken to fight, and he nodded, trudging to the bedroom, each step a surrender of the life he’d known.

On the bed, Joel stripped, his movements slow, reluctant, his face a mask of shame. Liam’s breath caught as his dad lay back, naked, the hairy, thick-muscled body he’d craved exposed in all its glory. Thick chest hair curled in dark waves, spilling down to a soft, furry belly that jiggled with each breath. Joel’s cock, nestled in a bush of pubes, hung heavy, his balls low and full, glistening with sweat.

Liam knelt beside him, hands trembling with ravenous excitement, his erection painful in the khakis. “This is mine,” he purred, voice thick, running his fingers through the chest hair, tugging hard, relishing the coarse texture. “All this hair, this sweat, it’s what I was born to have.” 

Joel tensed, eyes shut, his body a betrayed temple. “You don’t want this, Liam,” he whispered, voice cracking. “It’s heavy, it’s messy, it’s not what you think.”

Liam smirked, pinching the furry bear gut, squeezing the flesh, moaning at the give. “Oh, I want it, Dad. I want to feel this belly bounce, to smell your pits after a day at that boring office. It’s mine, and I’m fucking taking it back.”

He leaned in, pressing his nose deep into Joel’s hairy armpit, the musk—sweaty, primal, intoxicating—hitting him like a drug. He groaned, tongue flicking out to taste the salt, his cock leaking as he nuzzled deeper. 

“God, this smell,” he moaned, voice muffled. “It’s me, Dad. This is what I’m supposed to stink like.”

Joel shuddered, a sob escaping. “Please, Liam, this isn’t right... Don’t do this.” 

Liam ignored him, hands roaming to Joel’s face, stroking the beard, tracing every scar, every pore. “This face,” he whispered, voice a low growl, “it’s mine. These eyes, this beard… I’ll wear them, I’ll live them.”

He slid lower, eyes locked on Joel’s cock, tugging playfully, feeling it twitch, then cupping the balls, rolling them, savoring their weight. “And this,” he purred, “this cock, these balls… they’re mine, too. I’ll stroke them, play with them, cum as you.” 

Joel grunted, face flushed with humiliation. “It’s not a gift, Liam. It’s a burden.”

Liam leaned close, inhaling the musky scent of Joel’s groin, and dragged his tongue across the tip, savoring the salty precum. “Just tasting myself,” he growled, grinning as Joel’s breath hitched, his body betraying him. “It’s perfect, Dad. Every inch of you is what I was born to be.” Joel turned away, silent, his spirit crushed.

Liam sat back, eyes burning with depravity. “One last time, Dad. Jerk off for me. I want to see my body in action.” 

Joel’s jaw tightened, tears welling, but he complied, wrapping a meaty hand around his cock, stroking slowly, each pump a funeral for his identity. Liam watched, mesmerized, his own erection soaking the khakis. The sight of his dad’s hairy hand pumping, the pecs jiggling, the low, pained grunts was everything he’d fantasized, now amplified by the truth that it was rightfully his. 

“That’s it,” Liam whispered, imagining himself stroking that cock, sitting in Joel’s office chair, sweat dripping, khakis tented. “Show me what’s it like cumming as me, Dad.”

When Joel came, ropes of cum splattered his chest and beard, a final act in a body he’d never touch again. Liam leaned in, swiping a bead from the beard, licking it slowly, eyes locked on his father, and moaned, “Thanks for keeping my body warm all these years, Dad. You did so fucking good.”

Joel turned away, sobbing, but Liam wasn’t done. He climbed onto the bed, hugging his dad tight, hands groping the hairy, thick flesh, squeezing the belly, the thighs, the furry ass, fingers digging into every inch he’d soon own. 

“Tomorrow, this is mine,” he whispered into his father’s ear, voice dripping with lust, his cock grinding against his father’s hip through the khakis. “Your life, your body, your smell, your boring job… it’s all going to belong to me, Dad. I’m finally coming home.”

Joel shuddered, his sobs muffled, but Liam pressed closer, savoring the warmth, the musk, the reality of stealing his father’s entire existence.

—

The next morning, the sun cast harsh light through the blinds, and Liam was awake before dawn, his lean body thrumming with perverse anticipation. He’d slept in Joel’s khakis, the scent of his dad’s sweat clinging to him, and jerked off three times in the night, each orgasm a vow to claim his birthright. Downstairs, Joel was a ghost, slumped at the kitchen table, unshaven, his thick beard flecked with crumbs from untouched toast. His eyes were bloodshot, hands trembling around a coffee mug, the weight of losing his life etched into every line. 

Karen hovered, wringing her hands. “We have to go, Joel. They said it’s mandatory.” 

Joel slammed the mug down, coffee sloshing. “Mandatory? They’re taking everything from me!” 

Liam, leaning in the doorway, watched with a twisted mix of pity and hunger, his gaze devouring his father’s hairy forearms, the furry chest straining his tee. That’s mine, he thought, his cock hard in the khakis, precum soaking through as he kept picturing himself at his father’s desk, sweat stains blooming, his hairy bulk commanding the room.

The drive to the facility was a funeral procession. Joel gripped the pickup’s steering wheel, knuckles white, his despair a tangible fog. Karen murmured about “doing what’s right,” her voice cracking. Liam sat in the back, staring at his dad’s broad shoulders, the curl of hair at his neck, imagining licking the sweat there, owning that flesh. He adjusted himself, the perverse thrill of becoming his father making him lightheaded, his erection a constant ache. 

At the facility, they were ushered into the sterile room, where two sleek, pod-like chambers loomed, their glass glinting under fluorescent lights. The scientist waited, clipboard in hand, his tight smile doing little to ease the tension.

The scientist cleared his throat, facing Joel’s scowl and Liam’s eager, lustful grin. “Before we proceed, there’s a critical update. To ensure the minds adapt smoothly, we must transfer all memories and knowledge between you. Liam will receive Joel’s full life experience. Basically all his skills, his past, his personality traits. Joel, you’ll receive Liam’s.” 

Joel’s face went ashen, his voice a broken roar. “What the hell? That wasn’t the deal! You’re stealing my fucking memories too?!”

Liam’s breath caught, his cock throbbing so hard he nearly moaned. Not just his dad’s body—his hairy chest, bearded face, musky scent—but his mind? Every moment of his father’s life—growing up with his grandparents, fucking Karen, downing beers with that gruff laugh, sitting at his desk with sweat-stained shirts—would be his? His mouth watered, precum dripping down his thigh as he pictured himself being Joel, fully, irrevocably, his hairy bulk sweating through a day at the office.

“That’s… fucking perfect,” Liam growled, voice thick with desire, unable to hide the bulge in his khakis.

Joel shot to his feet, chair crashing. “No! I didn’t sign up for this! You’re not taking my memories!” He lunged for the door, his heavy frame moving with desperate speed, but two guards in black uniforms blocked him, their grips iron. 

“Mr. Lawson, this is regulation,” the scientist said calmly, nodding to the guards. 

Joel thrashed, his hairy beefy arms flailing, bellowing, “Let me go! I’m not going to become my son!”

Liam watched, heart pounding, arousal spiking at his dad’s raw power—his power, soon. His cock pulsed, the sight of Joel’s chest jiggling, his beard askew, his musk filling the room, driving him wild.

“You can’t run, Dad,” Liam purred, voice low. “That body, that life, those memories—it’s all mine. I’m just taking it back, every sweaty, hairy inch.”

A guard jabbed a syringe into Joel’s neck, and his protests slurred, his body slumping, a fallen giant. “Sedation’s for his safety,” the scientist said, as the guards dragged Joel’s limp form to one of the pods.

Liam’s eyes devoured him—his body, hairy and thick, ready to be claimed—his erection painful as he whispered, “Fuck, I’m gonna love becoming you…”

Before stepping into his own pod, Liam paused, unable to resist. He crossed to Joel’s pod, where his father lay unconscious, hairy bulk sprawled, chest rising slowly. Liam’s hands trembled as he reached out, running his fingers through the thick chest hair, tugging gently, the coarse texture sending shivers through him. 

“Mine,” he growled, groping the furry chest, squeezing the soft flesh, his cock leaking in his khakis. “These pecs, this hair—it’s always been mine.” 

He leaned down, face inches from his father’s, and stroked the beard, feeling every scar, every bristle, the musk of sweat and cedar overwhelming. “So fucking perfect,” he moaned, then pressed his lips to Joel’s, kissing him deeply, tongue plunging into his dad’s mouth. The taste—salty, earthy, with a hint of coffee and cum from last night—flooded his senses, and he groaned, sucking on Joel’s beard, relishing the flavors that would soon be his forever.

“I’m coming home, Dad,” he whispered, licking his lips, his erection a throbbing promise as he pulled back, panting.

The scientist gestured to the second pod. “Liam, please.”

Liam stripped to his boxers, stealing one last glance at his lean, smooth body before climbing in, the cold metal a shock against his overheated skin. His unconscious father remained in the opposite pod, his hairy bulk still, his musky scent lingering even from across the room. Liam’s gaze locked on him—his body, his life—and he moaned softly, “Can’t fucking wait to begin my life anew with that body…”

The scientist adjusted dials, explaining, “The process will transfer your consciousness and all memories. You’ll wake as your biological selves, fully integrated.” 

Joel stirred faintly, mumbling, “No… not my son…” his voice a fading plea, but Liam just grinned, his cock leaking as the pod’s lid closed, the final barrier to his destiny.

A hum filled the chamber, vibrations pulsing through Liam’s body. His vision blurred, a flood of images crashing in—Joel’s childhood, running through fields, his first kiss with Karen under a streetlight, the burn of whiskey at a bar, the weight of a pen in calloused hands at his desk, sweat soaking his shirt. 

Liam’s own memories of sneaking his dad’s shirts, licking his cum last night, kissing his beard moments ago slowly mingled, then faded, drowned by his father’s life pouring in. Pain seared his skull, then pleasure, raw and primal, as his consciousness stretched, reshaped. He felt heavier, thicker, his senses sharpening—cedar, sweat, musk enveloping him. His cock, his father’s cock, throbbed, and he groaned, the sound deep, gravelly, his. The hum peaked, a white-hot surge, and then complete blackness.

—

When Liam opened his eyes, the pod’s lid was open, and the world was his. He sat up, slow, heavy, his body dense with glorious weight. His broad, rough, knuckles scarred hands flexed, and he ran them over his chest, fingers sinking into thick, curly hair that felt like home. 

“Holy fuck,” he rasped, Joel’s voice, now his, vibrating in his throat. 

He looked down, grinning at the furry chest, the hairy thighs, the cock nestled in dark pubes, already hard and leaking. He swung his legs out, standing, the floor cool against his bare feet, and caught his reflection in the pod’s glass. Joel’s face, his face, stared back: blue eyes, scruffy beard, short thin hair. He stroked the beard, moaning at the coarse texture, then lifted an arm, burying his nose in the hairy armpit, inhaling the musky, sweaty scent he’d worshipped. 

“I’m him,” he growled, cock pulsing, precum dripping as he groped his belly, his balls, relishing the perverse truth: he was Joel, his own father, every hairy, thick inch rightfully his, with every memory of backpacking as a young man, fucking Karen, sweating through endless office days his to fully savor.

He flexed his thick arms, feeling the weight, the power, and imagined himself at Joel’s desk, shirt clinging to his hairy chest, sweat marks blooming under his pits, the musk of his body filling the cubicle. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna stink up that office,” he moaned, stroking his cock, the fantasy of living Joel’s boring, sweaty life pushing him to the edge. Across the room, the other pod opened, and a lean figure sat up—Liam’s old body, now housing his former father’s shattered mind. 

“What… where am I?” the former Joel mumbled, his voice high, confused, green eyes wide as he patted his smooth chest, his slim frame. “No, no, this isn’t me!” He stumbled out, catching sight of his former son now in his body and froze, his face crumpling. “You… you’re not me!” 

Liam grinned, stepping closer, his hairy bulk looming, his musk filling the air. “I’m you, Dad. Or, well, I’m Joel now. Feels so fucking good.”

The former Joel backed away, tears streaming. “They took everything! My life, my memories, my body!” His voice cracked, a man stripped of his identity, his twenty-four years stolen by the son who now stood before him, groping his own furry chest with a lustful grin.

Liam’s eyes roamed his old body, but it felt irrelevant, a discarded shell. He was home, in this hairy, thick flesh, his father's office skills, his gruff laugh, his entire life wired into his brain. 

“Sorry, Son,” he purred, voice dripping with depravity, squeezing his cock, moaning as he pictured himself in his khakis, sweat-stained and musky at the office. “This is mine now. Your thick beard, your furry pecs, your boring job… I’m gonna live it, stink it up, make it mine.” 

The former Joel sobbed, shaking his head. “I-I know I’m not Liam! I should be Joel Lawson!!”

The scientist intervened, voice calm. “The transfer was successful. You’re in your biological bodies, with full memory integration. Adjustment will take time.”

But former Joel’s cries were a dirge, his despair a stark contrast to Liam’s ecstasy, his heavy steps a triumphant march as he followed the scientist for debriefing, already planning his first night of jerking off in Joel’s crisp shirts, hitting a leather bar, fucking a bear senseless as the musky, hairy daddy he was born to be, his father’s life now his to fully live out for the rest of his days.

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I was piling up my plate at my local buffet when i saw a door I’d never noticed before next to the wall at the end of the table. I decided I’d take a peek and found myself transported to some island. With no door in sight but lots of mouth watering food, i decided to gorge myself, i keep eating and eating but i’m not getting any fuller!

(possibly weight gain, bear tf, slob tf!!? ❤️)

The plate in my hand was filled to the brim—smoked ribs, creamy mashed potatoes, freshly baked bread—when I saw it. A dark, weathered wooden door set into the wall next to the dessert table. It hadn’t been there before. I was sure of it.

Curiosity drove me closer, my hand settling on the cold handle. A moment later, the noise of the place faded, replaced by the rustling of palm trees and the sweet, salty smell of the ocean.

A table spread out before me for miles. Juicy roasts, mountains of baked pasta, steaming pots of stew. And no one in sight.

“Well, damn.”

My voice was already deeper, rougher. But I was too hungry to care.  I grabbed a turkey leg and bit into it, fat dripping onto my beard—my beard?

I looked down.

My torso was a mass of muscle and dark hair, my chest swelling with every breath, my belly round and firm, resting on my now-too-tight pants. My arms, enormous, were covered in thick hair, my biceps defying the seams of my shirt.

"Oh, yeah," I growled, grabbing two steaks at once.

With every bite, I felt my body growing, becoming more massive. My shoulders broadening, my back thickening, my pants sagging under the pressure of my powerful thighs. My beard thickening, my chest hair curling in the hot sun.

A bottle of beer magically appeared in my hand.  I uncorked it with my teeth—easy, now that my jaw was so powerful—and gulped down the golden liquid, letting it run down my beard, my chest, my expanding belly.

"More," I commanded the island, my voice thundering.

And the island obeyed.

Dishes of every kind appeared before me. I ate like a king, like a god, like a bear preparing for winter. And with every bite, I grew bigger, hairier, more powerful.

My shirt was now just a memory. My pants, torn, left little to the imagination.

"Perfect," I roared, stroking my stomach in satisfaction as I stood—how tall was I now?—and stretched, muscles throbbing beneath my sweaty skin.

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That is sooo refreshing! Funny I never heard about that lake before. This big guy in the bar was so sweet telling me about it

Love it, look how clean the water is. I just hope there are no actual bears here, haha

Aehm ... wow?

What in Winnie the Poos name is going on here?

Guess there ARE bears here NOW

Come on! Go in, the water is so cool!

Let me go!!

I hate you! I am coming out NOW!

Oh shit ...

is this a BELLY?! I am TWINK

Help? Or ... not? Feels ... funny ...

Mmh, grrr? Heheeh

Come in, Fred! It is lovely!

Leave me alone, Freak!

If I turn into a bear, I swear, I wil ... wait, is that chest hair??

I will kill you, I swear!!!

Come to Papa-Bear!

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My two friends Jack and Eric, were planning on going to a football game with Eric's Dad Allen. However, once I found out that I was able to go it was too late, they had already bought tickets and it was sold out now. Eric thought that he could convince his Dad to give us the last ticket but he was adamant about going to the game himself, and we couldn't blame him considering he bought all three of them.

I had given up hope but Eric said he'd find a way. Eventually he'd found a mysterious remote control online, one that claimed to have magical powers. He gathered Jack and me and hinted at his plan to get us all to the game but refused to share the details.

On game day, Eric told his father to pick us up so we could go together. When Allen arrived, he stepped inside our apartment. That's when things took an weird turn.

Eric pointed the remote at his father, pressing a button, and swiftly turned it toward me, hitting another button. I felt a strange sensation ripple through my body, and as I looked down, I was no longer myself. Instead, I was in Allen's older, shorter, and bearded body, feeling awkwardly wide. Panic surged as I tried to speak but found the voice coming out of me was deeper and more masculine.

Allen, on the other hand, now in my younger, leaner body, appeared equally confused. He seemed shocked, staring down at himself with a confused expression, feeling emasculated being in my twig of a body. Eric's father in my body started to speak, yelling at Eric asking what the hell did he do.

Eric panicked and quickly pressed another button on the remote. To our amazement, it seemed to calm Allen, who was now in my body. It seemed like his memories of the swap were erased, and he went on his way, seemingly unfazed by the change. He told us to have fun at the game, and walked into my room without a second thought.

Jack, Eric and I were laughing uncontrollably at the absurdity of the situation. I hacked up a little as I laughed, not adjusted to how this body felt. My body hugged me completely differently than before. I was able to feel the folds of my skin, and it was weird being in a shorter and pudgier body. Regardless we were still excited and with the tickets secured and me in Allen's body, we were all excited to finally head to the game.

As we drove to the stadium, the conversation revolved around the remote and its mysterious powers. We couldn't help but wonder what else it could do. Eric couldn't resist pressing another button, this time aiming it at Jack. Suddenly, Jack was only able to speak Spanish. We chuckled heartily at the unexpected change, and Eric quickly reversed the effect.

Curiosity getting the best of him, Eric pressed yet another button, this time pointing it at me in Allen's body. At first I didn't notice anything, but as I tried to speak my words transformed into lame dad-jokes and puns, matching Allen's usual sense of humor. Eric and Jack couldn't contain their laughter as they realized that I had not only taken on Allen's appearance but also his personality.

In an attempt to reverse the effect, Eric pointed the remote at me, but we hit a bump as we were driving, causing the report to hit both Jack and Eric. Their memories of ever swapping bodies with Allen and me were wiped clean. And the worst part was that in the confusion, the remote flew out the car window and shattered into pieces on the road. I tried to scream out about it, but my body wouldn't allow it. Instead I made some joke about holding on tight.

Deep inside, I was filled with worry and frustration, but the remote's last change still had a grip on me. I started into the rear-view mirror, a little uneasy. I just lost my former twink body, and was now inside the body of a middle-aged dad with no end in sight on how to reverse this swap.

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It started with a dumb wish. Not even a real wish — more like an irritated thought muttered into a cup of late-night ramen while I stood barefoot in the kitchen, trying to ignore my roommate’s latest rant about being single.

Kyle had been in a mood all week. Something about all his friends being coupled up, his Grindr dates flaking, and how “love just isn’t built for guys like me.” And I, being the caring, patient friend that I am, had finally snapped with, “God, I hope you find someone already. Maybe then you’ll shut up for five minutes.”

Yeah. That’s what I said. And I meant it with all the sincerity of someone yelling at a toaster.

Apparently, that was enough.

I woke up the next morning to the sound of a deep laugh in the kitchen. Not Kyle’s — Jonah’s. My brother. My straight brother. Or so I thought.

I walked out, groggy, rubbing my eyes, and there they were. Kyle and Jonah. Shirtless. Cooking breakfast together. Jonah standing behind him, arms wrapped around Kyle’s thick middle, whispering something that made Kyle blush, and for some reason they were both barefoot and there were two coffee mugs with little cartoon bears on them on the counter.

I think I just blinked and walked back to my room.

Took me two whole weeks to realize this wasn’t a fling. They weren’t new. They’d been together for years. Years. I didn’t figure that out because anyone told me — oh no. It was little things. Their shared Spotify playlists labeled “Our Hikes <3.” The matching bear paw tattoos I spotted when they were horsing around in the living room. The blanket with their faces photoshopped onto two grinning cartoon lumberjacks that I found in the dryer.

The kicker? A Facebook post from four years ago that read: “Happy 1-year anniversary to the best damn man I’ve ever met. Here’s to many more, cub.” From Kyle. To Jonah. Liked by 176 people. Commented on by my mom with a heart emoji.

That was the moment I realized I was well and truly in a different reality.

And they are so in love. Loudly, shamelessly, constantly in love. It’s like living in a Hallmark movie directed by a bear bar owner. I’m not even sure they realize I’m in the room half the time. Or maybe they just don’t care.

I mean, look at them right now — no, really, look at them. They’re sprawled across our couch in the den, deep into one of their marathon make-out sessions. Kyle’s got his hand halfway under Jonah’s gut, and Jonah’s purring like some kind of fuzzy furnace. The TV’s on, but neither of them’s watching it. I am, though. Or trying to. Can’t exactly focus on Planet Earth with the grizzly bears mating next to me.

That’s my brother. That’s my roommate. I’m just the guy trapped between their chests, metaphorically speaking, screaming into a throw pillow.

They don’t just stop at cuddling on the couch, either. Oh no. They’re domestically obscene. I’ve walked in on bubble baths, shirtless apron cooking, a full-on bear massage chain on the back porch, and one time ��� one time — I came home to find them napping belly-to-belly on the living room rug with “Whale Sounds for Deep Lovers” playing on loop. There was incense. There were candles.

Every time I so much as sigh in their direction, they glance over like I’m the one being weird. Sorry, am I interrupting the pre-hibernation cuddle ritual? Should I come back in spring?

But here's the messed-up part: I can’t even leave. The rent’s too good. The house is big — three bedrooms, a finished basement, fenced yard, walking distance to everything. We split the bills three ways. Kyle and I had a great deal before the universe decided to rearrange my personal life like a Sims cheat code, and Jonah moved in after “their anniversary trip to Portland” (ugh), and now it’s just… this.

Also, he’s my brother. Jonah may be a hairy, handsy, loud-as-hell bear of a boyfriend now, but he’s still family. He still makes killer chili. Still beats me at Mario Kart and talks me down when I spiral. We’ve been through a lot. I can’t just walk away from that. Even if he now insists on calling Kyle “Cubby” in the mornings and I have to hear that term of endearment while brushing my teeth.

So I sit. I stew. I eat my microwaved mac and cheese while my brother and his boyfriend — my former roommate — turn the living room into a PG-13 nature documentary. I go to bed with headphones on. I’ve stopped using the shared laundry machine during the weekends because I kept pulling out towels that smelled like sandalwood and testosterone.

Sometimes I catch myself wishing it could go back to the way it was. Simple. Predictable. Quiet.

But then I look over and see them sharing a blanket, giggling over some dumb in-joke, Kyle planting a kiss on Jonah’s cheek like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I see the way Jonah glows when Kyle pulls him in for a hug. The way Kyle watches Jonah like he hung the stars.

They’re loud. They’re weird. They’re half-naked 80% of the time. But… they’re happy.

At least they’re happy.

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PHOTODUMP

New stories on the way but to keep you all tied over till then heres a photodump and a Would you rather ASKs so ya ain't bored.

New weight gain updates are on my patreon but im sure when I hit the next milestone ill be sure to post a tumblur update on my fast growing gut.

*OINK*

Fit fat lad looks ready to burst init! Thats what you get for wishing to gain 3 TIMES as many calories when he ate.

Damn this damn, he was so cute now he's hairy as f@#k and only gonna get worse. He's gonna be a wookie when Gaz is done with him. He hasn't even noticed his hard on hasn't gone down.

George here wished he could be as close to his new step dad as possible. Well...he got his wish. Nows he his slave.

"I wish I could smoke cigars" Gaz had laughed, but when he pushed for the wish he soon regretted it. A bloke tied him up and soon he was nose plugged unable to move, then a cigar was shoved into his mouth. He gagged but this is what he wanted. He never said how innit.

Heh, tbis dumb f@#k wished to be the lad on site everyone looked up to. Soon after he began to sweat, so he had to wear a vest to cool down. Then he grew to 7foot tall, the hairs came last along with a gut, huge arms and massive feet. By the end of the day everyone was calling him Donkey Kong. He was the guy everyone went to with a problem, he was the biggest, stinkiest, toughest guy they knew.

Said he didn't wanna be working in an office anymore. Gaz saw to that. He got splashed in mud by a truck when when it passed he was in work clothes and a hard hat. A massive boss man called to him calling him Gavin. Half hour later he had forgotten his old life. Gavin was more than happy being a filthy workie.

"Why dun I remember words innit" he shouted as outgrew his clothes. He used to be a nice lad but one wish later he now a thug. Huge, hung and always hornh. He pushed the wall and swore at his phone. "The f@#k you done to me init!?" Gaz hung up and sent him a screenshot of how dumb he looked. He was never going back to his old life now. And he needed a drink and a smoke bad.

"I hate being a college 19 year old twink. Make me a proper man like my dad" Gaz smiled as he waved his hand. Soon the guy had bulked up and his shirt was hugging his belly tight. His arms rose up unable to rest straight down. He gasped as he realised "D-dad?! I'm my dad?!" And sure enough he found himself working hard and that night he had to go and see his son at college. He was furious and confused but it was nothing his new big dad couldn't fix. Once he'd tried to pull some of the single dads around that is.

=============

IF YOU want to help support my weight gain, see updates on 'feedings' as well as transformation stories of lads being turned into massive hairy men if they like it or not....

....you know what to do.

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Shredders New Goon

"Shit! They came earlier than I thought." You panic as you scramble through your apartment.

"Hey pipsqueak, open the door before we bust it down." Rocksteady yelled with a hearty laugh.

"Ughhh, just a sec!" You respond.

Lifting up your mattress, you find a roll of cash underneath.

"Oh thank God" you breathe a sigh of relief, giving the money a kiss.

But as you're walking back to the front door, you hear heavy footsteps rapidly approaching. Suddenly Bebop comes barreling through the door, smashing it into many pieces.

"What... The... Fuck..." You mumble as Bebop stands up in front of you.

Your eyes follow him up as he stands at a towering 7 feet. His nose resembles that of a hog, and he has four tusks sticking out of his face that accent his bright purple hair. Looking down, you see his hulking gut and thick man tits bulging out of his leather vest, matching his thick leathery skin.

"You look starstruck buddy, you like what you see?" He gives his belly a jiggle.

"Bebop? What happened to you?"

"Da boss gave me a promotion." Bebop says with a wink.

Your shock only grows when you see his right hand man, Rocksteady enter the apartment. He has a similarly hulking body, with a big gut and leathery skin. But he has a large snout with horns sticking out of it, and little ears poking out of his leather cap.

"You too?"

"Yeah baby! You have no idea how good this feels" He responds while flexing his gigantic arms.

"Well you will soon." Bebop interjected.

"Shut up, man. It's supposed to be a surprise." Rocksteady punches him on the shoulder.

"He was gonna find out anyway." Bebop argued.

"Wait, wait. This is all just a misunderstanding. I have Shredders money. Here, take it." You nervously approach the two beasts with the roll of money.

They simply laugh in response.

"We didn't come to collect debt. No you're too late for that." Rocksteady continues laughing.

"We came to recruit you." Bebop says.

"No, no. You said to get the money and I got the money. I don't work for Shredder." You try to talk your way out of it.

"Things change pipsqueak. Besides, workin for the boss ain't so bad." Rocksteady smiles as he grabs your arm and pulls you in.

You try to resist, but he's so strong that it doesn't feel like you're even making him try. Bebop then pulls out a needle from his pocket and jabs it into your arm. Your insides burn as he injects the purple liquid into your veins, but the pain is quickly mixed with pleasure as your body begins to grow.

You look down at your arm, seeing your muscles twitch as they grow. Your biceps grow as thick as your head and your forearms aren't much smaller. Then the skin around the needle starts to thicken, becoming grey and leathery, just like Bebop and Rocksteady.

The serum starts to rapidly circulate around the rest of your body. You notice your height increasing, inching you ever closer to their staggering 7 feet. Your shirt tightens as your stomach starts to inflate, at first just slightly riding it up but then fully ripping through it as your belly rounds out. Your pecs follow suit, growing soft and flabby as they lose all definition and sag into your gut.

"What.. are you.. doing to me?" You manage to say.

"Why don't you look for yourself, big guy." Bebop holds up a mirror.

You watch in horror as your face becomes fat and round as your nose lengthens into what looks like a snout. Small tusks start to grow beneath the skin around your mouth and your ears become massive.

You're distracted when your pants begin to rip open. Your ass is expanding with fat and your thighs are thickening to the point that it's harder to walk. You bend over, trying to release the pressure and making your pants split down the back, revealing a thin tail with a tuft of fur on the end.

You regain your balance and stand up straight again, getting a full view of your face in the mirror again. Your snout continues to grow into a long trunk and your tusks grow large and imposing. It complements your round face, huge ears, and leathery skin. Something about it looks... kinda sick. You strike a couple poses in the mirror, showing off your new heft and it suddenly makes you feel really confident in yourself.

"Woah, he's an Elephant." Rocksteady says excitedly.

"Damn, look at that trunk. I wonder what I can do." Bebop chuckles.

Your thickened hands wander down your crotch and massage the small bump under your straining pants. But as you grope it, it starts to grow longer and thicker. It creates a large bulge that snakes down the leg of your pants, growing over a foot long as you rub it. Meanwhile, your feet start to grow into large circular pads that quickly burst through your tiny shoes.

"How do you feel?" Bebop asks.

You stand there for a moment, trying to get used to how your trunk moves. You glide it across your gut and up to your tits, giving them a bounce.

"I feel... So good bro.." you respond with a dumb chuckle.

"My man!" The two say in unison.

"Now why don't we get you dressed up to meet da boss." Rocksteady says as he pulls out an oversized set leather jacket and cap.

[tfreblogs]

Whale Beach

I heard it was a popular vacation destination. Men flocked to it to help speed up their bulk because it was said to increase the weight of anyone who entered its waters. I guess the name whale beach is a little on the nose, and a little offensive but I don't really care. What I care about is the part where it makes you fat. Most people who want to bulk a little bit only go in for a minute or so and that's enough to make a significant change in their weight. But some brave, or horny, souls have tested what happens if you stay in the water for an extended period of time. That's where the name 'Whale Beach' was coined. I heard that the people who went in at around 160 pounds came out 30 mins later at 400 pounds. This is exactly why I was going to take a trip to whale beach. Not for myself, no, for a 'friend'.

Dan. Dan was a friend from work, but calling him a friend would be an overstatement. I've grown to despise him, mostly from envy. I know it's not healthy but I can't help it. It's gotten to the point that I just get annoyed whenever he's around. He's so perfect. All the ladies, and the men for that matter, flock to his side. They go along with anything he says cuz he's hot. I've tried working out and dressing better to live up to him, but I never will be able to. I miss the days before he showed up, when everyone would kiss up to me. When I was the hot guy in the office. That's why I'm gonna invite him to whale beach. I want to see the look on his face when he comes out of the water and realizes he's twice the size he was going in. Even the thought of it makes my dick tingle. Anyway, tangents aside. I've got it all planned out and he just agreed to go, so all there is left to do is get him in the water.

Time flew by the next few days, while I was waiting for my trip. The mix of excitement and anxiety made the time move quickly. Soon enough I was already at the beach with Dan. I had gotten good at acting nice around him, so he wouldn't suspect anything. I got into my dark blue bathing suit and watched him change into his light blue board shorts. Even now, I couldn't stop staring at his perfectly toned body. I hate it.

We both sat there talking for a little while. We had a few beers and actually had a nice conversation. But while that was going on, I was also trying to pay attention to the other people on the beach. There was no one in the water, but I wanted to keep an eye on anyone who went in to see what happened. I eyed down a group of three young men, hopefully they'd hop in and I could see if what I heard about this beach was true. They were all quite skinny so it should be easy to tell any weight gain when they come out.

I almost missed it as the group of men ran into the water. I was so engrossed in the conversation I was having with Dan. I was starting to question my decision to bring him here. But I caught the men in the corner of my eye, I need to keep track of them.

I spent the next 45 minutes or so going between talking to Dan and glancing over at the men in the water. They were there for a long time. Did they not know? It didn't matter, but I was getting impatient and it seemed like Dan was getting antsy to get in the water. Soon enough, the three men started to return to the shore. I almost did a double take as they walked out. There's no way those are the same guys. They must have been nearly 400 pounds each. They all hate giant bellies that spilled over their swim shorts, sagging man tits, and asses that threatened to rip right through their shorts. I watched in awe as they hobbled their way out of the water and went back to their spot on the beach.

I had to stop myself from staring and I curled my legs up to hide my growing boner. I turned back to Dan and he was giving me a funny look. He grabbed my hand and dragged me out of my chair. He kept pulling me towards the water, I had to think quickly. I wanted him to go in the water but I didn't want to go in myself. I didn't think fast enough and he quickly dragged me into the water with him. I played it off cool, just don't stay too long. I swim around with him for a couple minutes and then make up an excuse about the water being too cold so I can leave. I run out of the water and stop right at the edge of the water. I look down and to my horror, I see a flabby belly in front of me. And it's right under my swollen moobs. I started freaking out, I thought it would take longer. I stood there for a few minutes just poking and prodding at my soft body. I could lose this pretty quickly right? What will I tell my family? My mind started to wonder.

I'm interrupted by a splashing sound coming from the water. It's Dan approaching me. I can't tell he's put on about as much weight as I have. He's got a round belly and moobs, but he's still got big arms and a pretty face. He continues marching towards me and grabs my hand again. His hands are so big, I think as he drags me back into the water, "Come on you big baby, the water's not that cold." How has he not noticed either of us growing? I question. I tried resisting a bit, but he was way stronger than me anyway so I gave up.

We spent the next 40 or so minutes just swimming around in the water and chatting. I had given up on trying to leave early, but I was still aware of the fact that I could become so fat that I would be immobile. That wasn't a concern yet though. As time went on, I noticed myself getting more buoyant, and I also noticed Dan's hair started to recede. I guess the water has more effects than just weight gain. I started to feel folds forming around my body as I swam, and I kinda liked it. My growing boner would have been obvious if my large gut hadn't covered it by now. I also saw Dan's outline under the water grow and grow and grow. He didn't seem as flabby as I did though, probably because he had more muscle, but it made it so he had a large round belly that floated in front of him.

After a while, he floated over to me. Our guts collided as he got close. "I like us like this." He whispered in my ear. He knew!? Did he know the whole time and just wanted it to happen, or did he realize later? "I feel so strong and manly" he said as his hands wandered under my belly and to my crotch. I let out a moan as his hand pulled down my shorts and grabbed my cock. "Did you really think I didn't know what Whale Beach was?" I didn't respond. "I just couldn't wait for the moment we would both return to work as obese pigs. I couldn't wait for the chuckles behind our backs as co-workers talk about how we let ourselves go. Oh and the sex, I couldn't wait to hear the bed creek under us as I fuck you like the pig that you are." He said between heavy breaths. His hand sped up with every sentence. "Call me a pig again" I yell. "You're a fucking pig" he growled. "I'm gonna feed you until you can't move, held down by your enormous pig body." He continued. I let out a loud moan as I shot my load into the underside of my belly. Afterwards, I reached around his gut and into his shorts. I wrapped my hand around his dick, pushing into the fat pad that engulfed it. It didn't take long for him to shoot his load all over my hand.

After a moment of silence, we made our way back to the shore. It shocked me how much heavier I was on the ground. I was basically weightless in the water, but now I have to put effort into every step. My stomach made me feel like I was gonna fall forward. We both managed to hobble over to our chairs, but I couldn't fit in mine, my love handles stuck out too far. Dan can barely fit in his, but only because his fat was all in his gut so he was not as wide as me. I decided to sit between his legs with my head essentially under his gut. I don't know what came over me back then. Maybe the water just does that to you, I was just so horny. I looked over and saw the group of three men in a threesome on the beach. Maybe the water does have that effect on people, maybe that's why there are so many love stories from this beach. My hand instinctively reached down to my crotch as I couldn't turn my eyes away from the three men. It seems Dan saw them too as I could feel his dick harden against the back of my head. I felt his hand begin to rub my shoulder and it sent a tingle down my spine. I turned around and got on my knees. He opened his legs as I pulled down his shorts with my mouth. I licked the end of his dick as it entered my mouth. My face was pressed against his fat pad and my forehead pressed against the underside of his gut. His large hand pushed on the back of my head as I went back and forth. The feeling of the hair on his belly rubbing against my head was almost soothing. His moaning got louder and louder until a warm liquid filled my mouth.

I sat back down in the position I was in before. Dan stretched my head and ran his fat fingers through my hair. I wondered how he felt about being bald. He did say something about feeling manly, and maybe that added to it. His big biceps and round gut sure made him look manly though.

We sat there for about an hour or so. The three men were still going at it, oh what I would give to be young again. I wondered what it felt like to be obese in your twenties, it couldn't be that different from being obese in your forties right? Maybe just a little less back pain. It had only been a couple hours in this body and I already couldn't remember what it was like being skinny and fit. How the only thing I could think about was being fed like the pig that I am by my big man.

Eventually, we grabbed our stuff and made our way to my car. We confidently left the beach with our tiny clothes. At this point, our shirts looked like bras and our shirts looked like speedos. After a lot of waddling, we made it to the car and put our stuff into the trunk. Dan gave me a kiss before closing the trunk and getting in the car. I got in the car and we both slid our seats back at the same time. "Do you have a bed that can fit both of us?" Dan asked. "Do you think we can fit in a king size?" I responded in a flirty tone. "Only one way to find out." He smiled at me.

We made it home to my place, I was shocked at how hard it was to get through the front door. I had to put some stuff down to even get through. I went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror.

Wow. I thought I would look more like Dan, but I was far more flabby than he was. My tits sagged into my armpits and my gut spilled over my waist. My arms and legs were riddled with rolls of fat and my jawline has disappeared under a thick double chin. Even my nipples were swollen and sensitive.

I walked out of the bathroom and saw that Dan had stripped down to his underwear. It was probably the closest thing he had to fitting him, but it still looked like a stretched out speedo.

His big arms and even bigger gut made me shiver. I couldn't believe how much hotter he was now.

"It's been a long day, how about we hop in bed and call it a night." Dan said

"I'd want nothing more." I replied.

We both curled into bed, barely fitting on it. He laid facing me and wrapped his arm around me. He could barely reach around my shoulder though because his gut pushed us apart.

"Love you." He said as he drifted off to sleep.

"Love you too."