transformationaddict

[transformationaddict]

[transformationaddict]

The Summer Break Curse

Grant sighed as he sat at the edge of his bed, his handsome features captured in the mirror in front of him. His graduation cap and gown thrown aside. His senior year finally over... summer right around the corner... His heart pounding in his chest. Today was the day- as it had been each year for the past few years. His mind raced as he thought back to that day...

____________

"No rest shall come with June’s bright light, No freedom found in summer’s night. While others laugh in pools and shade, You’ll count the hours, underpaid."

When Grant first read the lines to the strange poem he found stuffed into his gym bag four years prior, he laughed it off. Where the fuck had it come from? And who the fuck put it there? Grant decided not to think much of it. After all, he was looking forward to his first summer break. Freshman year had been a wild ride- a roller coaster of an adventure. Work-outs, frat parties, hot chicks... his older brothers were right when they said college would be life changing. And with a calendar full of beach trips, bonfires, and workouts planned, Grant didn't have time to bother deciphering the strange message.

But whether he thought about it much or not, he wouldn't have a choice but to confront it. The night before his planned vacation to Miami, Grant was busy packing. Tank-tops, shorts, even a speedo were thrown haphazardly into his travel bag. Grant's fingers curled around another tank top, yanking it free from the dresser drawer, as he shoved it carelessly inside his duffel bag. His biceps flexed beneath sun-kissed skin - toned muscles honed from countless push-ups and football practice. Grant ran his hands over his defined abs, a smirk playing at his lips as he patted down his six-pack. Summer bod was in peak condition.

As Grant stood there admiring his physique, a sudden wave of dizziness washed over him. He stumbled, catching himself on the edge of the dresser. What the hell? He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision. That's when he noticed it. His hands. They were... changing. His slender fingers began to thicken, growing meatier and more calloused. Dark hairs sprouted across the backs of his hands, spreading up his wrists and forearms. Grant watched in horror as his biceps doubled in size, filling with muscle and fat.

"Holy shit..." Grant breathed, his voice already sounding deeper than before.

The changes didn't stop at his arms. Grant felt a tightness in his chest, a pressure building behind his sternum. He looked down to see his pecs expanding initially with muscle, then sagging with fat. A thick mat of itchy, dark fur spreading across his pectorals and abdomen, gradually covering more and more of his torso.

"Oh god, oh fuck..." Grant groaned, his voice now a deep, gravelly rumble.

Grant's stomach began to swell, pushing outwards and upwards. His washboard abs softened and disappeared beneath a layer of pudgy flesh. Soon, a proper beer gut hung over his groin, swaying slightly with each labored breath. He grabbed a fistful of his flabby abdomen- his hands sinking into the doughy flesh... rubbing against his new fur. Grant recoiled- sickened by these sensations. This wasn't him... this would never be him...

But no thought could stop it... Grant's thighs thickened, becoming powerful and tree-trunk like. His calves bulged with new muscle, his feet growing larger to accommodate his expanding frame. Even his ass was getting bigger, the cheeks spreading wider and softer. But the most shocking change happened between his legs. Grant watched in disbelief as his cock shrunk up and fattened up. His pubic hair grew thicker and wilder, soon forming a dense forest around his new chode.

"Jesus Christ," Grant wheezed, running a hand over his newly hairy body, "What the fuck is happening to me?" 

Grant stared at his new self in the mirror, taking in every detail of his transformation. Gone was the fit, toned college stud. In his place stood a hairy, overweight bear of a man in his mid-30s. His face had changed too - more weathered skin, stubble darkening his cheeks and neck, eyes dull...

And suddenly, he could only watch helplessly as his hands moved on autopilot, rummaging through drawers and tossing clothes onto the bed.

"Wh-what the fuck..." Grant stammered mentally, his physical form seemingly acting of its own accord.

Without waiting for input, the bear-like version of him tugged on a stained white t-shirt, stretching the fabric taut over his soft belly and hairy chest. Then came faded jeans, ones that looked like they'd seen far too many days mowing lawns and edging sidewalks. Shoes, socks, a cap emblazoned with some garden center logo.

The newly transformed Grant lumbered out to the garage. He slid into the driver's seat of his car, the leather creaking under his substantial weight. As he reached for the ignition, memories not his own started flooding his mind. Summer after summer of maintaining the sprawling college campus. The smell of freshly cut grass, the burn of the sun on his neck. Sweat-soaked shirts clinging to his hairy back as he pushed a mower or trimmed hedges.

"I'm...I'm the fucking summer groundskeeper?" Grant thought in shock and revulsion, watching his hands start the car and shift into reverse, "No, no, this can't be happening!"

That first summer passed in a haze of sweaty, grueling labor for the trapped Grant. He spent his days trudging around the green spaces, pushing a mower in the blistering heat. Trimming hedges, pulling weeds. His hands were rough and calloused within weeks, dirt permanently etched under his nails. His hairy arms ached as he pushed the mower, sweat pouring down his equally hairy back. The days blurred - rise at dawn, spend twelve plus hours bent over or lifting in the oppressive heat, then collapse into bed. No more lounging poolside, sipping cold beers with buddies. No summer spent partying or lounging at the beach. Even the evenings brought no relief. He quickly discovered more than he wanted to know about the groundskeeper. Each night, he'd watch as the man pulled up gay porno sites - always beefy, hairy guys. Grant recoiled internally each time the groundskeeper wrapped a callused paw around his chubby dicklet, fapping desperately. But soon, the feeling overwhelmed even his mind and he basked in the pleasure of their shared release.

And as summer finally drew to a close, the spell lifted as abruptly as it had taken hold. Grant woke up one morning back in his own dorm room, his muscular, well-groomed college athlete body restored. Relief crashed over him, tears pricking his eyes as he confirmed every inch of himself was normal again. He stumbled through the first week of classes in a daze, avoiding his friends' concerned questions about his disappearance. How could he possibly explain it? Grant smiled weakly as he walked into the dining hall, nodding along as his buddies ribbed him about his absence. Inside though, panic and confusion reigned. But with the start of sophomore year, he was ready to try and leave it all behind...

But Grant couldn't escape his fate. As each spring semester ended, the cycle repeated with grim predictability. The night before summer began, that sick dread would grip him, the magic of the transformation bubbling beneath his skin. He'd watch helplessly as he contorted and reshaped into that familiar form - the sight of that bulky, hairy older man would fill his mirror. The summers bled together - long days sweltering in the sun, pushing a mower, trimming and pruning in a cycle he couldn't break. Every sunset brought that shameful solitary ritual, the slick glide of palm against his shaft, until release. All those glorious summer plans - beach weeks, festival lineups, internships - fell away unfilled, abandoned. Only to return to his athletic form and his life as a college student on the first day of fall classes...

__________________

And so here he was. The night of his graduation. Heart still pounding in his chest. He begged, pleaded silently... Surely, graduating would be enough to break whatever strange enchantment had held him captive these past summers. He was done with college, moving on to the next chapter of his life. Graduation parties, a beach trip... after years of missing out, he could only hope.

Grant closed his eyes, taking deep breaths as he waited for the inevitable. The seconds stretched into minutes, the minutes into hours. Nothing happened. He opened one eye cautiously when the clock struck midnight. And the tension drained from his body. Tentatively, he ran his hands over his arms and chest, marveling at the firm muscles and smooth skin. No unwanted hair, no softening belly, no aches from a day's hard labor. He was finally, completely himself again.

"It's over..." He whispered with a small chuckle, "Fuck yeah, it's over..."

Elation filled him, tears of joy threatened to fall. He grabbed his phone to text his friends about their summer plans.

Ding

His heart stopped. An email from the university. Subject line: "Congratulations." Probably just a follow-up from graduation. He opened it, eyes scanning the email rapidly. His smile faltered, brow furrowing in confusion. He scrolled back up, rereading over and over, barely registering the tingling spreading through his body.

"But, this doesn't...no..." His eyes kept scanning the email.

An official job offer... A full-time, permanent position as a year-round groundskeeper. They praised his dedication and hard work over the past few summers. He felt mocked... he felt sick... The curse...it wasn't broken at all. It was...

"AAHHH! FUCK!!!" Grant cried out, dropping his phone as a searing, electric tingling exploded across his skin.

This time, the transformation felt different - raw, primal, overwhelming. Yet it was different than before... slower, more deliberate and intimate. Each change seemed amplified, the sensations more vivid and real. Hair sprouted from his pores, coarse and wiry, spreading in an ever-widening patchwork across his body. Grant's eyes squeezed shut, tears leaking from the corners as he felt the inexorable changes overtake his body. His muscles swelled and hardened, growing denser and more pronounced. Biceps bulged, shoulders broadened, chest expanded. But it wasn't the lean, sculpted physique of an athlete. This was the heavy, solid build of a laborer, all power and no finesse. His abdomen rounded out, softening into a paunch that continued to grow into a respectable gut. His ass growing wider and softer. Thighs thickened, calves beefed up. His cock, now nestled in a thick thatch of wiry curls, shrank as it fattened up. Even with his eyes closed, he knew what he was becoming. And deep down he knew now this was no fleeting summer curse. This was finality, inevitability. The magic saturating his cells promised that he would never again return to his former self.

Tears streamed down Grant's face as the transformation reached its climax, his body now fully remade. He knew what came next... Grant braced himself, expecting to find himself imprisoned in his own mind once more, a silent observer to the groundskeeper's simple existence. He shuddered at the thought of reliving those endless summer days - the backbreaking labor, the loneliness, the shameful solo nights spent with gay porn. As the initial shock subsided, Grant tentatively tried to move, to assert control. To his surprise and horror, his body obeyed without hesitation. When he wanted to stand, it rose easily, joints creaking. When he took a step, it carried him forward purposefully. There was no disconnect, no division between his consciousness and the physical form housing it.

As the realization crashed over him, Grant staggered, his new body trembling. And then he felt it. Unfamiliar yet somehow comforting sensations and thoughts flood his mind. The aches in his muscles from a hard day's work, the satisfaction of a job well done, the simple pleasure of a cold beer after mowing the lawns. And to his shock, Grant realized he craved it. Wanted it. Loved it. The brute strength in his arms, the hairy expanse of his chest, the heavy thud of his footsteps. Even the lonely nights spent pleasuring himself to the sights of other hairy, muscular men. It all called to him now, felt like coming home. The sheer horror and cognitive dissonance proved too much for Grant to handle. Grant's mind simply shut down. His knees buckled, vision tunneling. With a choked sob, he collapsed backwards onto the bed and in that moment between wakefulness and oblivion, one final, terrifying thought crystallized in his fading awareness: this was his reality now. The groundskeeper's life, the groundskeeper's body, the groundskeeper's desires. They were his. Grant, as he had known himself, was gone. Forever.

Morning light filtered through the curtains, rousing Grant from his unconscious state. For a brief moment, confusion clouded his mind as he took in the expanse of his hairy chest and gut, and felt the weight of his changed body. But as awareness returned, so too did the comfortable sensations and thoughts that had flooded him the night before. Rising from the bed with a contented groan, Grant stretched his hairy, bulky arms above his head, savoring the pull of his powerful new physique and the smell of his ripe pits.

With a groan, he reached for his phone, clicking open a familiar app. Videos of burly, hairy men soon played, and Grant lost himself as his burly hand wrapped around his chub, stroking lazily as he drank in the erotic sights as he'd done many times before. Any feelings of strangeness melted away, replaced by pure, uncomplicated arousal and contentment. As he finished with a guttural moan, any lingering doubts melted away, replaced by pure, guilty pleasure. He quickly cleaned up with a damp rag, then dressed in dirty jeans and a wife-beater. And so began another routine day in the fulfilling life of the college groundskeeper, living and loving every minute as his new nature demanded.

[transformationaddict]

Hey there cubby. Sleep well? When you were standing by that truck stop, asking around for rides out to California, I got worried. There are some creepy men who who will expect certain things in exchange for a lift over there. I was more than happy to give you a seat in my pickup, since I'm going out to Nevada at least. I figured we could share in some company, talk a little bit. But you were so exhausted you fell right asleep. I kind of got distracted as we were driving, focusing on getting to where I needed to go and such. Unfortunately, I failed to remember to turn up the AC in the car. I'm used to not bothering the fact, because to be honest I kind of enjoy my own musk. But I didn't think of the effect it would have on you. You've been breathing in pure, undiluted bear musk for the better part of the last 6 hours. Strong musk like that, it can change a young man. But I bet you can tell that already. How else could you go from clean-shaven to sporting a full beard in an evening? You look like the kind of guy who was pretty smooth, but I'm willing to bet you've got a nice carpet of fur all over, hell even your back is probably pretty furry now. I at least have the decency to adjust your seat belt, because your new gut would probably have started to hurt. Yeah, you sure are a cute little cub now. What's that? You couldn't really listen anymore past mentioning men doing stuff to you? I can see your rubbing your larger package thinking about that. Seems like you kind of wanted that to happen. And you say you like the smell of my musk now? Well I have an idea of how I can stay entertained for the rest of my trip. Let me just unzip these jeans, let my hairy bear cock flop out. No, don't start sucking on it. Just rest your face on my balls. Breathe in my musk straight from the source. You are still a little young for my taste, but my ball sweat will help fix that. Let's get you up to 30, maybe 35. I like a man with a little bit of gray in his beard if you know what I mean. Once that's all taken care of we can stop at the first hotel we see. I can't wait to taste that furry ass of yours, and this cock is guaranteed to make cubs beg for more. I've got a six day load brewing in my balls, and I can't wait to unload it all over your cute, furry face. That's it cubby, just keep breathing in. Change for me cub!

[transformationaddict]

One should be careful what the order when they visit Bears Beach, the name having more meaning to it than most people think. Alec was a young cocky guy, full of himself, so when he swiped a drink from a concession stand the owner playing the fool and pretending not to notice as the jock smugly walked away, sipping on his prize, the owner worked some magic on the arrogant tool.

Alec thought the warmth he felt through his body was from the heat of the sun, causing him to drink the stolen drink faster, only progression what it was doing to his body, Not even half the drink gone and Alec was no longer the muscular handsome twenty something year old he was, his muscular body long gone, now having a large stocky build, his former body void of any body hair now covered in a thick pelt of body hair. The new bear of a man, now in his late 40s, looks around the beach, rubbing his crotch in his white shorts when he spots a hot stud that catches the older man’ attention. "Time to work my magic.“ he grins, heading towards the man’s direction.

[transformationaddict]

Season 3

Random TF Blurb - Adjustment Period

“This just feels disgusting” Mia said as she rubbed the hairs on his now hairy chest. He got clothes that kinda fit his new body now as he was mortified what just happened to his petite womanly body he had only moments ago.

He was this buff and dumb looking bodybuilder now. He just touched this weird ass dumbbell that was in his garage and poof. He’s this giant guy who looks like he has roids for breakfast.

It was only seconds but it seemed like hours. His hands got larger and calloused. His chest heaved and shrank and developed three hairy pecs he now has. His feet bursted out of his socks and widened.

Mia grunted thinking about the cock that grew between his legs, as he adjusted the boxers he found in his boyfriend’s laundry. Mia just was having a hard time wondering how this happened. He just felt heavy and large and moved so differently. He felt the cock between his legs and winced.

Mia hated this. He was gonna be home soon. He lifted his tank top and saw the hairy bloated abs he had and just sighed. “What if this was meant for him?” Mia asked as he saw the dumbbells and began to lift them.

Each time, Mia touched them it just seemed right and he did it again. “Maybe this has its perks” he smirked, as he just decided to embrace it.

3 hours later, a man walked into his garage to see a sweaty behemoth of a man working out in his garage.

“Hey man. Names Logan. Wanna lift with me” Logan said as he smirked. Mia’s mind went comprise blank in the hours he decided to work out and what was left was a beefy himbo Logan who only cared about pumping iron and growing his body.

[transformationaddict]

Bear Darts

"Yes! They finally came in." I say in excitement as I pick up a package in front of my dorm. I rush inside and rip open the package. 8 small darts with a weird green liquid inside and a bamboo tube. "There's no way they actually work right?" The website seemed so legit and the concept seemed too good to be true. "Guaranteed to transform any man into a certified bear." Was the tag line. I am tempted to jab one of them into my arm right now, but I'm too nervous. What if it's just poison or something? I should at least test it out, it'll be fun anyway.

I stuff the darts and the bamboo into my bag and head to campus. Who to start with? Mr. Henderson could be a good option. I don't like him so if it goes wrong I don't care, and he's pretty scrawny so I'll be able to see any difference. I decide to head to Mr. Henderson's office, figuring he'll be a good test run.

On the way, I come across a raccoon rummaging through garbage in an alley, and an idea sparks through my mind. If it's that harmful, it would hurt a raccoon, so I might as well test them out. I pull out a dart and the bamboo and head into the alley. I slot the dart into the end of the bamboo, line up the shot, and blow as hard as I can. I hear the swoosh of the dart piercing the wind. The dark hits the raccoons back and it barely reacts, as if it's just a measly mosquito bite. The green liquid drains out of the dart, and I wait for a reaction. It doesn't take long for the animal to start twitching. It's hard to tell in the shadow of the alley, but my kind went straight to the worst, it was poisonous. But then I saw its body change shape. It wasn't much, but its scrawny limbs grew thicker, its belly grew rounder, and its grubby little paws grew larger. By the end, it still resembled a raccoon, just larger and meatier than you'd expect a raccoon to be. Could this be real? I continue watching as the raccoon resumes its normal activities.

I let out a chuckle in excitement at what was yet to come. I walk back out of the alley and speed walk to Mr. Henderson's office, this was gonna be good. The website said results may vary depending on what the person looked like before the transformation, and based on other things like genetics. Essentially it's random. But I was still hoping to see Mr. Henderson with a big hairy gut spilling out of his shirt.

I finally make it to his office and I slowly open his door just a sliver. He's standing in the middle of the room, looking over at the wall to the left of the door. I feel confident enough that he's not able to see the door from the way he's looking. I look over to see he's very concentrated on a bunch of photos hung up on the wall, which makes sense as he's a photography prof.

I take a mental image of the prof before I line up the shot, so I can compare the before and after in my mind. He's got buzz cut and a bushy salt and pepper beard. His frame is quite skinny but I can see a little bit of a belly and moobs under his shirt. That shirts definitely not doing him any favours, I wonder what it will look like on him after. His arms and legs are scrawny, with little fat or muscle on them. He's also wearing some camo shorts.

Now with his image locked in my head, I prepare a dart and like up the shot. Same with the raccoon, I blow as hard as I can and the dart lodges into the side of his belly. He flinches for a moment, but then stops in places. I can see his muscle twitching, as if they're cramping and freezing him in place. It all happens so quickly. It starts with his belly. His small belly grows in waves of soft fat, each wave packing dozens of pounds. Each wave makes his gut jiggle more and more as it grows rounder and rounder. His gut and his love handles spill over his waistline as his shirt rides up, revealing a stretched out belly button. Soon enough, it appears as though he stuffed a small beach ball into his stomach with how large it is. Though it is soon complemented by a growing pair of soft moobs. If what he had before were moobs, he now has full on man tits. They're soft and round, pressing tightly against his shirt. I can even see his nipples harden under the shirt. Next to fall is his ass. His once flat derriere quickly plumped up similar to his belly. Waves of fat perked up his ass as it threatened to rip through his shorts. The button on his pants popped off and flung across the office in dramatic fashion, leaving his fly wide open. His arms and his legs thickened slightly as a layer of fat covered them, though they stayed quite skinny in proportion to his body. Also, in the process, his beard had grown out and became almost all grey.

The entire time I could feel my dick riding up into my waist band. This was so much hotter than I expected it to be. I want to go in there and get my hands on that fatass so bad, but I have to have restraint. His muscles have stopped twitching and he seems back in control, though he still seems laser focused on the wall of photos. He reaches to scratch his belly and seems a bit shocked at the fact that he's scratching skin rather than shirt. "Huh, I coulda sworn this fit yesterday, musta shrunk in the wash." He shrugs, completely oblivious to the changes his body had just gone through. I don't know if I find it more or less hot that he seems to not care that he's a fatass. I don't have time to think about it though, as he starts to turn towards the door. I quickly grab my bag and run. I'll get to see him for photography class tomorrow anyway.

I think about who I want to hit next. I've got 6 darts left and plenty of profs on my list. Now that it seems safe, I'm more willing to go for profs I like. So I think one of the hottest prof off the top of my head. Mr. Ahmed. God he's hot. He's got perfectly toned skin, a thick black beard, and beautiful eyes. The only thing is he's quite skinny, and I like my men thick. So this is the perfect opportunity, and his office is close by.

I arrive at his office and see him just on his phone. My mouth salivates as I think about what I'm gonna do to him. I pull out a dart and shoot it. It lands right into his biceps and the green liquid rapidly drains from the dart. My hand instinctively drifts to my crotch as I wait in anticipation.

He froze in place, just like Henderson. But this time it started from his arm instead of his belly, it must be from wherever the dart hits. His once skinny arm swells, ripping his sleeve in the process. His forearm followed suit, growing a thick pelt of hair in the process as his delicate hand grew into a monstrous man hand. The transformation continued into his shoulders, then to his chest. His shoulders broadened, pushing his small shirt to its limits. Then his suddenly exploded outward, tearing straight through what was left of his shirt. Thick muscles now lay under thick man tits as they hand over his stomach. His already thick chest hair became more dense as his nipples grew large and sensitive. His other arm quickly grew just as large as the first, evening out his hulking body. His exposed belly went from flat to large and rotund in a matter of seconds, though it remained quite solid from strong muscle that grew below it. His gut befell a similar fate to the rest of his body, being covered in a layer of dark hairs.

His lower half quickly grew to match his upper half. Fat and muscle flooded into his ass and thighs until his dress pants ripped in dramatic fashion, leaving him in nothing but his extremely tight underwear, leaving little to the imagination. The legs continued to grow, and his feet seemed to grow at least five sizes, busting out of his shoes. Finally his facial features began to change. The rather young professor looked as if he aged 15 years in just moments as wrinkles and blemishes riddled his face, and his hairline receded slightly. His face also seemed to become a bit chubbier, matching his hulking gut.

He finally unfroze, seeming unfazed by changes in his body. He reached to stretch some of his muscles, I'm sure they're sore after such an intense transformation. But he quickly realized his lack of clothing and left to a backroom to find some. The idea that he wouldn't be able to find any clothes that remotely fit him made it all the more hot for me, but I got out before I got caught.

I was on top of the world, there was no way I would stop now. I thought about who to find next, and the choice seemed obvious. Mr. Salim, how could I forget the health and fitness prof. Ive never had him, but damn it is tempting to take a fitness class just to get to look at him more. He kinda looked like Mr. Ahmed but buff, cocky, and far more charming.

I quickly made it to the fitness building and found his office. I peaked in and saw him working out with his earbuds in, this was my shot. Without hesitation I load a dart and shoot. I chuckle quietly as I see the dart lodge into his ass. He goes to scratch his ass but fails to notice the dart, soon after he drops his weights and freezes in place. His already perky ass grows slightly, but not as much as I'd expect. Still enough to pants ride down his ass a bit, revealing a bright blue jockstrap. Of course Mr. Salim would wear a jockstrap. His thighs grow significantly, bulging with muscle to the point of ripping his pants. The rest of his legs follow suit, growing thick calves and massive feet.

I can see under his shirt that his waist is tightening up, which is surprising given that he's the first one to not get fat. A little disappointing if you ask me, but I'm not disliking what I see so far. His shoulders broaden and his chest puffs out, ripping right through his shirt. His arms nearly double in size, making his look like a bodybuilder as his hands grow to match. His face seemed to age as some of his hair turned grey. As he aged, his already hairy body became even more so, covering most of his body in thick salt and pepper hair. Even his stubble grew out into a thick silver beard.

Mr. Salim put down his weights, got up, and walked to the mirror in his office. He turned so he could see his ass in the mirror and snapped a photo.

A part of me was hoping to see him become a fat slob, something about fat gym teachers always got me going. But I certainly wouldn't complain about this view.

The health and fitness building is right beside geography and history, so I should head there. I try to think of a teacher I've had in this department. Maybe Mr. Smith? I had him for first year history and he's hot, I just remember him being a bit weird. That doesn't matter, I'm already on my way to his office.

I peak through his door and see him focused on his computer, perfect timing. I load a dart and shoot it. It hits him in the side of his thigh. Within moments I can see his jeans struggling to contain his growing legs. His jeans become even tighter as fat fills his ass, creating a loud pop sound as his belt snaps off.

His slim torso expands until he has a thick muscle gut and love handles that spill over his jeans. His chest grows into two strong but soft looking pecs that are impossible to miss through his tight shirt. His arms explode with muscle, making it look like they're gonna rip his sleeves. Finally his face fattens up a bit as a short beard covers his soft jawline.

Mr. Smith leans back in his chair and crossed his arms over his tank of a gut.

It wasn't what I expected for Mr. Smith to be honest. I expected him to turn into a big fat history teacher, but he is hotter as a muscle chub. As I'm watching, he goes to unzip his jeans. He whips out his massive dick and starts to jerk off. Damn I didn't expect Mr. Smith to be packing that, but maybe it's a side effect of the darts. I keep watching until he swivels his chair in my direction, I can't risk being caught so I leave.

I look at my watch and realize I've lost track of time, I have a math class right now. I run across the campus to my math class and quietly sit at the back of the theatre.

I quickly get bored and wonder if I should hit Mr. Derrick with a dart in the middle of the lecture. It's risky but I'm bored so fuck it. I pull out the dart and try to shoot it as quietly as possible and it hits him square in the stomach. Mr. Derrick is a very scrawny man, so I'm curious about how it's gonna effect him.

As soon as he gets hit, he stops talking and freezes in place, but weirdly enough, no one in the class seems to notice. The man's skinny body explodes with fat. At first he grows a small pot belly, then a sizable beer belly, then it settles as a giant ball gut that looks like he stuffed a beach ball down his button up. I'm surprised his shirt has ripped yet. His chest grows two man tits that are visible through his shirt. The sleeve of his jacket starts to look like stuffed sausages as his fat arms fill out all the space in them. The man's thighs thicken until his pants start to rip and his fat ass causes his fly to rip open. Finally his clean shaven face grows a thick brown beard.

He continued the lecture as if nothing had happened. His lack of awareness of his body makes even more hot. I can't believe he ended up that fat, I can see his gut spill out of his shirt each time he reaches up. And every part of his body bounces when he walks around. Eventually he ended up sitting down for the second half of the lecture, and he was often out of breath from just talking.

Once the lecture is over, I walk up to the front of the theatre and talk to Mr. Derrick.

"Hey, I've been struggling keeping up with the material lately, I was wondering if we could have a one on one session?" I ask him.

"Oh ya for sure, just come by during my office hours and I'd be happy to help." He responds. The man is practically panting at this point and I can see the sweat start to drench his beard.

"By the way, I don't think that shirt fits you anymore sir." I say just to make him uncomfortable. He just looks down, blushes, and runs off. Hobbling as fast as he can out of the theatre.

I got two darts left, I should use them wisely. The only teacher I can think of right now is Mr. Brown. His voice is so deep and buttery but his body doesn't match it, he's really skinny. I think he'd be better off as a bear anyway.

I make my way to the athletics facility, I've had him for French and English class, so I know where to find him. He works out around this time most days, so I make my way to the gym. As I walk to the gym, I see him in the corner of my eye in the showers. He's turned away from me, so I quickly take my shot, hitting him in the back. His back muscles grow and become more defined before a thick layer of fat covered them and creates thick rolls down his back. His stomach grows into a sizable belly with a thick belly button. His chest expands, first to juicy pecs, but then they slowly soften into a pair of moobs. His traps grow as his shoulders broaden, I also notice that he's getting taller, like a lot taller. He was shorter than me, but now his head is well above the shower head. His arms grow to match the rest of his hulking body.

Next his ass widened and started to sag slightly under its own weight. His thighs thickened until they rubbed together and his feet grew from a size 11 to a monstrous size 20. I also noticed his dick grow to at least 10 inches, if not more. All the while he was still getting taller, by now his shoulders were above the shower head. Finally his facial features became softer and fatter as the hair on his head fell out, although his stubble grew into a thick black beard.

As the transformation ends, Mr. Brown reaches behind him and grabs the dart out of his back. He's the only one to have noticed it. He looks at the dart for a moment, then turns toward me. I try to duck behind the wall, but I think he saw me. I hide in one of the bathroom stalls until I hear him leave, with the size of that man, it's not hard to tell where he's walking.

Once I can't hear him anymore, I rush out of the stall and grab my bag. But just as I reach the door, I bump into Mr. Brown. He's waiting at the doorway with a small green towel wrapped around his waist.

"What's this?" He says holding up one of my darts. Interestingly enough, it's a full one. The one I shot him with should be empty, so that means. Oh no. I look through my bag, the last dart is gone. Before waiting for a response, Mr. Brown just grabs my arm and jabs the dart into it.

I feel frozen in place. My clothes feel tighter and tighter until I hear them rip. I feel the warmth of the locker room air touch my bare skin. I start to feel itchy all over my body as my perspective shifts higher and higher. I feel so strong. I feel like I've grown a foot in height, but I'm still at eye level with Mr. Browns chest.

I finally gain control of my body and look down at the damage. I have thick pecs and a little bit of a belly, all covered in hair. Thick arms and legs, also covered in hair, actually my entire body is now covered in hair. And the bulge in my underwear is massive.

I turn my attention back to Me. Brown.

"Where did you get these?" He asks in his deep intimating voice. I stutter for a moment. "I'm not gonna snitch, I just got a few people I want to use it on." Mr. Brown asks. My fear turns to excitement as I realize the damage Mr. Brown and I are gonna do together.

[transformationaddict]

Like a Light Switch

Charlie Puth admired himself in the mirror, adjusting the collar on his extremely open button-down shirt.

His medium-length hair was perfectly coiffed, but he delicately adjusted a couple flyaways to make sure they didn’t interfere with his clean-cut look. He had just started to check his pores in the mirror when he was interrupted by the light flicking off and on and off and on in quick succession. His girlfriend stood in the doorway, her finger on the switch.

“Charlie, are you going to sit there primping yourself all day or are you going to take me out to brunch?”

Charlie grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, babe. You know what it’s like with photographers. I gotta make sure every inch of me is perfect every time I leave the house. And remember, we have to cut brunch short today, I have a haircut at 2:00.”

She sighed. “But do you have to be so, like… intense about it? All my friends keep asking me if you’re secretly gay and I’m your beard. You know, I’m pretty sure no other straight musician spends every other night in a cleansing mask to shrink his pores.”
Charlie shrugged. “Look, I have a brand to maintain here.”

“Couldn’t your brand be more… relatable?”

Charlie glared at her. “What do you want me to say, I wish I acted more like a schlubby straight dude?”

Her eyes flashed green and she grinned, her teeth sharpening into deadly points. “That’s exactly what I want you to say, Charlie. You see, when you’re a genie and some lonely gay college kid wishes to, say, be able to fit in more with their queer peers, to be prettier, have more knowledge about how to properly shampoo and moisturize… Well, those traits have to come from somewhere. Thanks, babe. It’s been fun!”

She flicked the light switch off again and Charlie was plunged into darkness. He fumbled for the wall and flipped it back on, not realizing she had vanished from the house, considering that she had vanished from his memories as well. He scratched his chin, trying to remember what the hell he was getting ready for. Oh yes! His haircut at 2. Ugh… That was all the way across town. In this traffic?

A wave of exhaustion flowed through Charlie and he decided that maybe sneaking some me time was more important than getting a haircut this week. He could wait a couple more days before getting a trim, he’d been too uptight about his looks lately anyway. He texted his stylist to cancel and sat down in bed with his notebook to work on the lyrics for his next song. It was a swoonworthy ballad about lost love, but he wasn’t feeling particularly inspired and without realizing it, fell asleep, drool pooling on the pillow beneath him.

As he slept, his hair began to droop from its perfectly coiffed position. He twitched his nose as it began to lengthen and slither down his cheeks. Suddenly, as if he had shoved his face into a wind tunnel, his hair began to whip around, the styling product he used evaporating into thin air as his new longer cut became an unruly mass of curls.

His perfectly curated mustache stubble also began to grow out quite a bit, giving his upper lip a dense, manly thickness. Slight stubble also dotted his chin and a respectable soul patch had begun to sprout under his mouth. Charlie woke up an hour later.

He scratched his head, not noticing that the curls bouncing with the motion hadn’t been there earlier that day. He decided it was time to head to the gym; it was important to maintain his toned physique for a music video shoot he had later in the month. However, on the way out he noticed a shadow on his face. He stared at himself confused. When had he let his stubble grow out so much? He took a quick trip to the bathroom to shave off everything but his longtime mustache stubble and headed out back to his private gym.

After a warmup run, he took off his shirt, revealing his svelte, hairless body to the world as he pounded a punching bag.

He was feeling a bit of a stitch in his side, so he ran into his kitchen real quick to grab a banana and up his potassium, scrolling through Twitter at the kitchen island while he ate.

When he was finished, he went to throw the banana peel away, but noticed the trash was full. He was hit with another sudden wave of exhaustion and decided he’d take it out later. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if he left the peel on the counter for, like, an hour while he finished his workout.

He whistled as he walked back out to the gym and easily pounded out some good reps at the weight bench.

After his workout, Charlie showered and dressed in his most comfortable robe. He decided to stay in and watch a movie tonight rather than go out, because he’d been feeling weirdly out of it all day, even with his adrenaline pumping from the gym. He was deciding between movies when he stepped back into his kitchen and was hit by a pungent smell. Startled, he looked up to see the kitchen counter loaded with old banana peels, abandoned pizza boxes, and crumbs. Had somebody broken in and… what, eaten a lot of food?

Confused and panicked, he went from room to room and discovered a similar mess everywhere. His living room was piled with empty chip bags, his bathroom was dingy and the sink was coated in hair, and the sheets on his bed seemed stained with barbecue sauce. For some reason, the panic seemed to settle into the back of his brain, but the sight of his house still appalled him. He decided to throw on some music and spend the rest of the night cleaning. He started with the bedroom, gathering up the sheets and a pile of unwashed laundry, dumping them in the washing machine while he emptied and scrubbed the kitchen, finally clearing up the mess in the living room. His nose was struck with another pungent smell, but when he flapped his robe open he realized it was coming from him.

He must have been working up more of a sweat while cleaning than he realized. He decided to take a quick shower, but first, he was gonna just sit on the newly clean couch and give himself a break. Maybe rest his eyes a bit…

Charlie woke up with sunshine streaming through the window, which seemed covered in greasy fingerprints. He was covered in chip crumbs and the coffee table was covered in crumbs, fast food containers, and dog-eared magazines. “What the fuck is going on?” he said.

“Oh… Now I remember. I fell asleep on the couch! Weird how disorienting that can be.” He didn’t feel like cooking this morning, so he kicked his feet up on the coffee table while he ordered Postmates, knocking a half-filled carton of fried rice off the other end, spilling the contents over his stained and dirty carpet.

Once the Postmates driver had delivered his Egg McMuffin, he wandered into the kitchen to see if he had any extra ketchup, digging through jars and containers of moldering leftovers to find a crusty bottle in the back of his fridge.

Once he had devoured his muffin, he wandered out to the gym for his morning workout. He decided to start with weights today, but as he sat at the bench he was hit with yet another wave of exhaustion. He decided he’d only do one rep of everything today. What was skipping one workout? He’d be fine. He grabbed the bench press bar and suddenly found himself having trouble, well, pressing it. Had he accidentally put more weight on it than usual? He looked to either side as his arms trembled, but everything seemed normal. Huffing and puffing, he managed to slowly push the bar up, not realizing that his gut was slowly inflating the higher the bar got, stretching out the fabric of his T-shirt.

He put it back with a clang, wiped his forehead, and decided that maybe he’d just skip weights altogether today. He got in his running gear and went for a quick jog around the block, but his gait felt lopsided and his feet were moving like molasses. He began to breathe more shallowly and felt suddenly dizzy.

One of his neighbors looked over, concerned, and he held out a hand to indicate he was fine. As he raised his arm, he exhaled once more and his gut flopped forward, becoming a perfectly round ball that made him look like he was smuggling a tire under his sweatshirt. Fuck, he felt so out of shape. What was happening?

He walked back home, his arms behind his head, his pits stinking to high heaven. He gave a subtle sniff or two, slightly relishing the fact that he smelled like a real man now. He never used to smell like that. It must be all the working out.

He ordered a pizza that night and chugged a whole six pack of beer while watching reruns. Slightly buzzed, he made his way to bed and flopped onto his back, staring at the ceiling dazedly until he slipped off into blissful sleep. He woke up the next morning with a hell of a hangover and an itchy face.

He stumbled over to the mirror and was startled to see that he now sported a thick scraggly beard, and his unkempt curls had now become a full rat’s nest of greasy hair.

Alarmed, he grabbed a pair of scissors and reached up to cut off the ends of his bedraggled locks, exposing his sweaty armpit to the open air.

The air suddenly filled with a ripe musk and he sniffed it with pleasure. The smell filled his mind and shoved every thought out of his brain. The scissors clattered to the floor as his fingers relaxed. Fuck, why was he so worried about stupid shit all the time? He needed to spend the day just chilling out. He burped and scratched his butt, which had also grown in the night, amply filling out the back of his shorts. He wandered over to the unkempt living room, which now looked like a bomb of pizza-flavored Pringles had gone off overnight.

He settled into his favorite recliner and turned on the TV, turning on ESPN and enjoying the pre-game coverage. He grabbed an open bag of chips and started stuffing some into his mouth, letting the crumbs fall onto his protruding front. The day passed happily in this way. Hell, the WEEK passed happily in this way. He hardly noticed how much time had passed until his phone rang in his pocket. He put in on speaker, saying, “Sup? It’s Chuck.”

“Charlie? Charlie, is that you?” came the voice of his manager. “Where the hell are you? You were supposed to be on set for this music video at 6AM.”

The music video? Wasn’t that next week? Charlie sat up in alarm and realized that the show airing the same Sunday night program he had been watching when he started, accidentally upsetting some of the crumbs that had gathered and sending them tumbling to the carpet in a gritty spray.

A bubble of worry began to rise in his chest, but quickly popped and dissipated. What was the point in worrying about shit?

He grunted and burped. “Nah man, I’m not gonna come. You don’t gotta call me anymore. I don’t wanna do any of that gay shit. I’ll make some songs when I feel like it, but like… Real songs. Cool songs. Like ROCK songs. AC/DC and shit, you know? When I feel like it… IF I feel like it.”

He drifted off, snoring, and his manager hung up in a huff.

[transformationaddict]

Djinni's Gym: Towel Service

When you’d mentioned to your buddies at the college Pride club that you were moving back to your small town after grad, they swooned at the name. “That’s where Djinni’s Gym is, right?” one gasped, fanning their face. “Raj and Shaun’s BlueSky is, like, my favourite.”

“Everyone they collab with is sooooo hot,” gushed another. “Your town must be the cruising capital of the state!”

You tried to assure them that no, it was just as homophobic and shitty as any other small town in the region. You were only moving back to sleep on your parents’ couch until you could get a job. In fact, you’d been friends with the only kid of colour in your whole high school, and he hadn’t had it easy, being Moroccan and gay in that small town. But they insisted, and when you looked up Djinni’s Gym on social media their address was, in fact, in the only mall in your hometown, just down the hall from the arcade.

Before you’d even been home for a week, you found yourself gazing up at the massive sign for the gym, with its antique lamp logo. Some of the gym gays at your college had taken you to the gym once or twice, but it really wasn’t your scene. You were weedy and awkward, the kind of gangling nerd who seemed to have an invisible “kick me” sign on his back any time a jock was in range. But with no gay bar in town, it seemed like this gym was your best chance at getting off with anyone.

The automatic doors slid open and your eyes watered as a gust of humid, musky air washed over you. You tried to take shallow breaths through your mouth as you walked inside, hoping it was just the entrance. After all, why would a gym smell like a sweaty, precummy cock and balls?

An Indian hunk with a cocky smirk stood at the reception counter. Raj, you remembered from the many graphic pictures your friends had shown you. “H-hi,” you stammered, “do you have a free trial?” You struggled to keep his eyes on his face, your mind drifting to the video of his brown cock dripping thick precum that was front and centre on his socials.

Raj’s smirk widened into a perfect, toothy smile, and you suddenly felt strangely like a small prey animal caught in his gaze. “For you, yes,” he rumbled, his accented voice somehow dripping in innuendo. “Would you like towel service, my friend?” he asked, reaching under the reception desk and somehow bouncing his thick pecs at the same time. Your gaze snapped to the dark nipples peeking out of the sides of his stringer tank.

“Uh, sure,” you agreed, your voice thick as you took a deep breath in through your nose to try and calm the sudden movement in your briefs. The sharp, alluring scent of Raj’s musk made your cock harden more instead.

Raj tossed the perfectly rolled towel to you and you scrambled to catch it, desperate not to embarrass yourself in front of this suave, flirty stud. As you grabbed it and clutched it to your chest, you got a whiff of something other than Raj’s scent: more of an animal stench than Raj’s almost curated musk.

You shook your head and hurried through the gate, struggling to hold it together as Raj pointed out different parts of the gym and gestured to the single change room in the back. You had hoped that your hard-on would subside once you were inside the gym in the mass of different body types that frequented it, but every man you saw was a paragon of muscle. With a shaky wave to Raj, you tiptoed further into the gym, still clutching the strangely musky towel, looking around at the studs of every size, colour, and age pumping iron and flirting in the pheromone-laden air of the humid gym.

Desperate that no one saw that the weedy nerd had some kind of creepy erection in his sweatpants, you folded in on yourself and beelined for an elliptical machine facing the gym’s back wall. Sweat already standing out on your pale brow, you shook the towel out to hang it on one of the arms of the machine.

An instant later, as you began to stride on the machine, that animal smell reached your nose again. For some reason, the towel carried a scent like pure, unadulterated sex, and you looked down at it in some disgust. Had they even washed it? You eyed it closely. Why did the thought of it being unwashed get your excitable cock even harder?

You shook your head and tried to focus on your cardio, hoping the stench would fade into the background over time. Sweat began to flow down your face and stick your T-shirt to your back as you upped the intensity of the machine to distract yourself.

Even this wall had a mirror, and you despaired as you watched your ghostly, gangling limbs pumping back and forth on the machine. This was a stupid idea, you told yourself. None of the hunks in this gym were going to give a college kid like you a second glance. You’d better just enjoy this chance to ogle them and then go home, back to struggling through job applications in the hope of moving somewhere better.

But as you started to watch the guys lifting in the mirror’s reflection, you kept noticing their eyes drifting your way. The guy twisting himself into a pretzel outside the yoga studio—Jorge, your college friend’s voice helpfully supplied—kept sneaking glances at you, his eyes mischievous. When he saw you looking at him, he winked and made a “call me” gesture with the hand he wasn’t using to pull his foot against the back of his head. A massive Chinese-looking guy on a deadlift platform licked his lips lasciviously as you locked eyes with him in the mirror. In spite of being the least hunky guy at the gym, you felt strangely like a piece of meat as dozens of eyes followed each twist of your torso and bob of your barely visible butt.

Barely ten minutes into your cardio, your face was burning bright red, the flush creeping under the collar of your shirt as you sweated more from the stress of being watched than from any exertion. You grabbed the smelly towel from the machine’s arm and bolted for the showers.

You were already under the rush of water in the shower before you realised you could have just gone home to wash. It was so strange you hadn’t thought to just leave now that you were uncomfortable. As you scrubbed down your legs, another whiff of that arousing scent from the towel washed over you, and the thought washed away with the soap suds. Shaking your head, you switched off the water and grabbed the towel from its hook.

Barely realising your cock was starting to leak precum just from the towel’s scent, you began to rub it through your hair, your conscious mind trying to ignore the smell that was somehow not so disgusting anymore. As you rubbed, your hair darkened from brown to black, the follicles thickening as the strands curled into a short quiff. You ran your hands through it, confused for a moment and then smiling as you remembered joking about how pubic your head hair looked compared to your nearly hairless groin.

You ran the towel over your face, pausing for a moment to take a deep whiff of the thick, overwhelming smell of sex embedded in the cotton. Your features shifted, chin strengthening as a tan rushed down from your forehead. A few smile lines folded into view around your eyes as you gave yourself a dimpled smile, enjoying the sensation of the towel against your thick black moustache and scruffy stubble. It was so wild that you had this masculine, hairy face, nearly looking Moroccan like your buddy from high school, on such a pale, gangling body.

You ran the towel down your chest, giving your pecs special attention as they grew thick and strong, more dark hair whorling across them from your darkening nipples. Sweat began to bead between the hairs, soaking up the musky stench of the towel you were becoming obsessed with. You barely held back a deep moan as you ran the towel across your nipples, your cock letting loose a spurt of precum at the sensation.

Your core and back grew to match your chest as you towelled off your arms, strong and thick and covered in dark hair. Sure, you didn’t have a six pack, but your belly was way better, way stronger, because of the fat you kept around your middle.

Meanwhile, your arms thickened and darkened, your hands twitching as they grew big and callused and gripped your musky towel harder. You wiped your armpits too, but chuckled as you felt the thick, dark hair that grew in them immediately begin to drip musky, mature sweat down your thick lats. This was your third shower today, you remembered. Sure, it was a lost cause, but there was something sexy about the futile battle with your animalistic armpit musk, especially because of the contrast with your pale cock and wispy pubes.

You gave your rock-hard cock a tug as you started to dry your legs, leaving the best for last. It felt good to grip it with your big, dark-skinned hand, as if you’d never done it before. Had you?

You shook your head at the sudden onslaught of a doubled consciousness. How the fuck did you have the upper body of a mature Moroccan bear paired with the slender legs of some college white boy? Why was your white boy cock so fucking hard and leaky thinking about it? What was…

A sudden wave of vertigo came over you, and you lost your train of thought. Had the showerhead always been so high on the wall, you wondered, idly flexing your thick quads as dark, curly hair raced over them and down your swelling calves. Fuck, you loved being a short, thick muscle bear. You could get picked up and pounded by a muscle stud like Raj, and it was even hotter when you slung Jorge over your shoulder and threw him on the mats to eat the Mexican yoga teacher’s sweaty ass. All that was missing was your own ass, you mused, running your musky towel over your flat, pale ass and between your bulked up thighs.

Your ass suddenly thickened with muscle, bouncing as the cheeks squeezed, and you roared with pleasure, feeling your ring twitch, ready to get opened up. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d gotten your needy ass filled, which was crazy because you usually couldn’t go more than twelve hours between loads. You were so lucky Raj and Shaun had opened this gym to get guys like you some relief.

Fuck, you needed to dry off your cock and go grab a guy to fuck you. One of those young bucks should have enough stamina to work you over.

The feeling of your cock and balls growing as you wrapped the towel around them had you whimpering. Dark, wiry hair grew in everywhere around your crotch, halfway up your big leaky bear cock, and immediately captured your copious sweat, letting that heady, sex-tinged musk you’d been smelling the whole time tickle your nose even deeper. Your eyes rolled back as you used the towel to pump once, twice, and exploded.

Your balls pulled up tight around the base of your dark-skinned cock like you’d been edging for hours, and you whimpered as shot after shot went into the thick fibres of the towel. You felt sweat dripping down your stubbled chin and moaned louder, loving how much of a big, sweaty muscle bear you were.

It could have been seconds or minutes later, and you were still braced against the wall, your towel wrapped around your cock as you gasped for air from a true all-timer of an orgasm. Behind you, you heard Shaun’s ironic voice. “Damn, Hamza, you gonna clean that towel this time, brother?”

You turned around and grinned at the younger man, shaking out your softening cock as you tossed him the towel. “Maybe after cardio,” you rumbled, enjoying the soft Moroccan accent in your voice. “You know I need a towel when I walk.”

“Brother, you need a mop,” Shaun said. He sniffed the towel appreciatively. You watched the Black jock’s cock jerk in his compression shorts. “Lemme get you a fresh towel, on the house,” he suggested, palming his crotch. “Me and this guy need a little alone time.”

You grinned back at him, putting one arm behind your head to show off your dripping armpit. “Why not get it from the source?” you suggested, seeing Shaun’s nostrils flare at your musk. “I can do bedroom cardio today.”

Fuck, you loved this gym. You were so glad you’d moved to this town.

[transformationaddict]

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.

[transformationaddict]

Policeman being a thorn in the mafia's side get abducted and tuned into a massive brute thug for their ranks

Policeman -> Mafia Thug

Investigating organised crime is hard, but it's even harder when everyone in the precinct is too scared to look into it.

Having to go in rogue, you quickly learn why the Police Station is scared of these guys, and soon, they'll be scared of you too.

[transformationaddict]

He’d gotten infected at McDonald’s, and ever since, his weekends as a were-teenager revolved entirely around Big Macs and everything that came with them.

He ate there, worked there, kicked a ball around with his coworkers in the parking lot.

And at least five times a day, he relieved hormonal pressure in the restroom stalls.

Yeah, he was actually a violin teacher. But this life? It was pretty damn cool too.

[transformationaddict]

I was walking down my usuall path when I came across a pair of abandoned sneakers. They look trashed but I cant stop thinking about them. Maby I shuld return and see if they are still there

Indeed, the image of those trashed sneakers was left lingering in the back of your mind; imprinted, as if it were branded onto your brain. So much so, in fact, that you found yourself wandering aimlessly down random alleyways, dark streets, and arriving right back to the spot. You blink, rubbing your aching temples before opening your eyes to see the beat up AF1 sneakers still sitting on the edge of the sidewalk. Blackened socks stuffed into the grimy interior… a half empty pack of cigarettes forlornly abandoned to their left.

You sit there staring, longing. The way the scuffed white leather just oozes heavy use and abuse, the blackened soles of the white socks within, the sheer size of them on the edge of the pavement… there was a palpable magnetism about them. You stare, so entirely enamored with them that the strange fog which emanates from inside them doesn’t even seem to faze you as it writhes out toward you. Not even so much as taking a moment to look about for their owner, you lean down and let your hands wrap around the shoes and slide the pack of cigarettes into your pocket.

The walk back to your apartment is long and seemingly cumbersome. Between the dark and winding streets becoming unfamiliar and strange, and the now wafting haze of wet, funky mist now slithering into your nose, you feel your mind slipping deeper and deeper into autopilot. Quicker than you anticipated, you found yourself outside of a rather dilapidated old building on the rough side of town. You punch the door monitor before it beeps at you, the heavy metal door swinging wide to greet you.

Climbing the stairs, you realize fully that you haven’t ever been inside of this crumbling tenement before- yet the familiarity of the peeling white paint in the stairwell, as does the stench of piss and smoke surrounding you. You can’t help but feel a sense of belonging here. Strutting down the hallway, you arrive at a scuffed door near the broken elevator. You kick the door open, somehow knowing it stuck frequently and a swift punt to the bottom of it would do the trick.

You enter this entirely random apartment, the smell of cannabis hanging low in the air. The ratty disarray within was absolutely not the pristine environment you faintly recall- yet your mind can think of nothing else other than the destroyed sneakers now warmed in your hands. You feel your lips curl upward, dropping them onto the dirty vinyl floors in a heavy thud. They seem to stare back at you- a sentience of their own, calling out for your touch.

You crouch down low, letting that miasmic fog push into your nostrils: wet, heady, pungent. Slowly, you take in a deep breath, feeling your lungs fill with the scent and letting it flow through you. You let your fingers glide across the grimy, slick fabric of the well worn lining. Your hands seem to move of their own accord, taking ahold of the socks and gently pulling them out of the sneakers. They’re still warm, as if fresh off your foot- and they lay atop the floor stiff and fragrant.

Your mouth smirks as you pry off your shoes and socks, tossing them onto the pile of dirty laundry in the corner of the room. Soon after, you find that you’ve thrown your shirt into the same pile as well- the tee shirt disappearing into the chaos of musky garments. With a filthy grin you’ve never known before plastered on your eager face, you grab the socks, letting the sweat inundated cotton slip over your bare skin. They’re loose and thick with a layer of slick grime on the sole as your feet slide into place.

You let out a heavy breath, the air seemingly rushing out of your chest as your groin begins to awaken from the gummy texture. With your feet in them, the heat doubles in intensity- as does the scent. You raise your left foot from the floor, the sticky outline of a footprint remaining on the fake wood. You stare at it, a drop of drool leaving your mouth at the sight of the large footprint, easily double the size of your sole within the sock. The impossibility of this goes unnoticed, your mind is focused entirely on stuffing your left foot into the sneaker. As it is seemingly suctioned onto you, you feel waves of goosebumps flowing from your legs all the way up to the top of your head. Your head is thrown back as you moan in ecstasy, unable to see the second sneaker slithering onto your right foot, encasing it in the musky cavern.

Your eyes shoot open, no longer entirely under your control. You let out a smug huff and crack your neck, pushing yourself off the couch and onto your feet. The sneakers squish below your toes with every step as you walk toward your bedroom, pulling out the fags from your pocket and slipping your unfinished smoke between your lips- still wet from earlier on the train. The door swings easily with your powerful push, revealing your disaster of a bed, covered in yours and your mates gear. Indifferent, you strut over to the bed and leap onto the stained mattress. As you start to pull your shorts down, reaching over to the sticky fleshlight you’d dumped your load into earlier, you hear the front door burst open.

“Oi! Liam you home yet, bruv?” Kev’s thick Yorkshire accent booms from beyond the open door. Unfazed, you pull down your boxers, absentmindedly stroking your thick uncut cock. With every footfall you hear of Kev approaching, you feel yourself getting more and more feeling like yourself again. Your tanned skin pulled tight over your sinewy build, the wheeze coming out of your frequently broken nose, your wavy brown hair slick with sweat from being in your cap all day long… by the time Kev’s pasty arse arrives in your doorway, you let out a sneering puff of smoke.

“Fancy a fag, mate?” Kev looks at you stroking your cock, his casual expression turning to one of smug lewdness as you slip your manhood into the slimy fleshlight with an audible “schlorp.”

“Heh, I fancy a fag and a wank, bruv.” He rips his jersey from his lithe torso, kneeling down at your feet hanging off the side of the bed. “But I fancy these first!” You lean back against the wall, taking another drag of your fag as he pries off your prize sneaks and starts huffing madly. You take another drag off your cigarette as you thrust into the warm slick silicone, grunting as Kev has his fill of your stink. This is your everyday, the way it has been for years, wanking with your best mate whenever he barges into your flat; it’s casual- it’s what lads do together. And as you both shoot your respective loads, it’s just another hang out session. Kev hops on your bed, plucking the cigarette from your lips and taking a drag of his own.

Life is easy, life is good, life is fun.

[transformationaddict]

I'm picky about my coffee beans. Got anything with dark roasted arabica?

You're suspicious that you got a pound of coffee beans for so cheap. They smell incredibly high quality as you brew them in your coffee maker, the machine whirring and grinding, filling your kitchen and apartment with the rich, deep smells of the Coffee. You stand by, tapping your finger on your countertop. You've got a long day ahead of you. Work, hanging out with friends later and going out to celebrate the weekend coming up. Nothing like a little pick-me-up cup of Joe wouldn't fix.

As you continue sniffing the air, you notice that you're starting to get hard. The smell is wildly intoxicating. Strangely strong. It smells almost like musk, the top notes of some expensive cologne mingling with someone's already strong body odor. It's hot and masculine. Hot also because you're starting to feel like it's 100 degrees in your apartment. Your skin feels heated like the sun is blazing down on it. Your cock continues hardening, topping off at its average length. It's so hard. Like steel. Oddly insistent too. And sensitive. Twitching and throbbing against your sleep shorts so much that .... you let out a soft moan as your cock spits up some pre.

You wipe your forehead and your palm comes back slick. Your nipples are hard on your bare chest, the cool air of your apartment brushing against them. The Coffee pours into your mug and you hold it. The smell hits you in the nose and your knees buckle, and you collapse against your counter. This is not normal. At all. Coffee making you horny? So horny it's like you can't focus on anything? Like your balls, which for some reason feel so hot, so warm, have become your brains? You take a sip of the Coffee, expecting it to be scalding hot.

But it's not. It's lukewarm.

But so fucking delicious.

You take your sweaty, damp shirt off and toss it to the floor. You're shaking as so much blood pours into your erection you can feel your cock getting bigger to contain it. Stretching longer and bloating thicker, leaking so much pre cum to make room for the extra cum now filling your bloating, tingly, hot balls. They inflate and droop, swinging between your legs like two giant, overripe oranges. You spill the rest of your Coffee as you spasm, unable to contain the onslaught of hormones filling your head. Filling your body and making it warmer, sweatier. You feel your pubic hair grow bushier and thicker, sweatier. Your musk seems like it's getting stronger as you lift your arm and get a whiff of your pits. When your smell hits you, you moan and cum like a cannon down your leg, your swollen cockhead pressed against the rough fabric of your sleep shorts. You're whimpering like a scared and horny animal as your cock continue to cum, little rivers of your hot, musky cum running down your leg.

You look down to not only a huge, tight bulge in your shorts but that your bare feet are darkening. Like someone's spilled paint on a canvas, the dark color starts from your feet and travels upwards. You're panting as your feet crack and expand. Stretching across the tile floors and making you grit your teeth with the insane, mind-numbing pleasure that rips through you. They stretch and bloat, meatier and muskier, thicker and corded with muscle. They grow into size 12s, easily tearing through your socks and definitely not fitting in any of your shoes.

You huff and puff as the color spreads upwards, and with it, thicker, darker hair grows up your calves. Carpeting your thighs and thick hairs coming out of your inflated balls, the sensation making more pre shoot out of your cock. Your ass grows furry, hole tickling as hairs sprout around it as it tightens and contracts. Your eyes bug out of your head as the skin tone reaches your nipples, darkens them into dusky buds, the areolas expanding and stretching across your flat chest as some fat bubbles beneath them. Your moans grow deeper as your Adam's apple expands, punching out of your thickening throat as the color overtakes your face. Thickens up your lips, perfect for sloppy make-out sessions and even sloppier head. Thicker, wider tongue perfect for eating out an ass to the next century. A sensitive moustache sprouts on your lips as your jaw and cheekbones chisel themselves into sharp, handsome, masculine features. Hair darkening and curling, pleasurably sprouting from your scalp and sending waves of pleasure down your back.

As the color goes into your hands, they thicken and inflate. Palms widening and fingers stretching into meaty digits. You're still so horny, grinding your beyond hard 9-inch cock against your counter. You slip your tighter shorts down to your ankles. You bend over, sticking out your larger tongue, and begin licking the counter, desperate for all the dregs of Coffee that you can drink. Your head ignites with pleasure as your bigger hands graze your increasingly sensitive ass. The furry, flat ass starts expanding into your palm as you continue dragging your tongue across the counter. Your moans are deep and loud, and desperately horny. You cum again as you squeeze a fistful of your fatter ass, the muscle expanding and growing, some extra fat pouring into the inflating globes as some of it lands in your increasingly muscular thighs and calves. You feel your smarts leaking out of your cock as your thighs continue growing, swelling and inflating, so close to squeezing those swollen, churning nuts that your eyes cross as you let out a deep groan as the final push of growth bloats your ass into a strong, soft, hairy bubble butt. Your calves inflate and strengthen becoming thick diamonds underneath the skin.

You grab your still hard cock, oozing with pre, and stroke yourself, moaning as you throw your arms behind your head. Your pit hair explodes into thick, dense, musky hair. Your smell is so incredible your hole puckers. You play with the slick, swollen head of your cock as your chest expands behind your swollen nipples. The dark pegs jutting out and stretching forward as your muscles expand, become a little softer and less chiseled as some fat pours into them. The stretching of your chest broadens your shoulders, popping them out like two massive boulders in your upper arms. You swear vehemently in Arabic - a language you most definitely did not speak before - as your huge hands tug and play with your huge nipples. Your chest expands into strong muscle tits, hanging over your quivering abs as they begin tightening and contracting. You grab and squeeze handfuls of your pecs as your cock spurts huge wads of pre from the sensation, your horniness just getting stronger and stronger. Your back broadens and becomes stacked with muscle, which allows your pecs to surge forward one last time to take advantage of the extra support.

You let go of your cock as your biceps bloat and expand. You throw your juicy, heavy arms into a double bicep flex as your abs expand against your skin. The muscles shifting and strengthening, bloating against the skin and pushing your waist wider to contain them. With both of your hairy, musky pits exposed, you cum hands-free, bellowing with pleasure that goes right to your brain and fries it. Thick wads of cum splatters all over the counter as you feel the muscles in your biceps become two huge, dense, muscular balloons. Your forearms expand and become equally strong and muscular, thick veins bulging against your muscle. You feel strong enough to lift a car. Throw around a hungry bottom. You thrust into your waning orgasm as a final wave of growth hits all of your new muscles. Thicker arms, fatter ass, stronger thighs, abs becoming more defined, pecs inflating and broadening your chest.

Panting, pleasantly exhausted, you lean against the counter and catch your breath. You're still so sweaty, and smell so ripe. So masculine. You massage and worship your muscle tits. Flex your abs. Your cock shrinks into a semi and you feel a dull throb of horniness in the back of your much slower brain. You slide your shorts back on and smirk cockily at the tightness of them, your dick print so obvious and you're not even fully cocked. Ass huge and swollen against the back of your shorts, you can feel how heavy and weighty it is.

Your phone dings with several text messages from a number you don't recognize. All that's important is that this guy is coming over to your place. You take a pic and send it to him so he can get a teaser of the full package he's going to unwrap.

You notice the heavy bag of Coffee beans on your counter. Maybe after you're done fucking him into next year, dumping load after load into his ass, you can make him a cup.

And then, well, he'll definitely be able to return the favor.

[transformationaddict]

Subject IND1

This document reports the events that transpired during a controlled study conducted on [REDACTED], who consented to participate in our trial, to document the physiological, cognitive, and behavioural changes in a human subject infected with a new strain of the Asian Flu, here denominated by the acronym IND.

To help recording the results, Dr. Kenji Nakamura, the lead researcher, recorded his observations throughout the experiment.

The subject was a young caucasian male, with a lean build and average height. He was selected for the trial due to his good health and lack of pre-existing conditions. The experiment was conducted in a secure laboratory environment, with all necessary precautions taken to ensure the safety of the subject and the research team. Below you will find the transcription of his observations.

Audio transcriptions:

[Recording begins]

[00:00:06 Nakamura] : "This is Dr. Kenji Nakamura, lead researcher on the Asian Flu IND strain project. Subject IND1 is now secured to the examination table. The strain has been already administered. Initial observations indicate a rapid increase in body temperature and heart rate. Subject appears agitated, but this is expected given the nature of the virus."

[00:00:25 Security] : "Dr. Nakamura, are you sure this is safe? Those restraints don't seem that sturdy."

[00:00:33 Nakamura] : "Yes, yes… I understand your concerns. But this is a controlled environment, and we have taken all necessary precautions. The subject is well behaved, in good health, and I will be closely monitoring his vitals."

[00:00:47 Security] : "Alright doc, if you need anything, just call us. We'll be awaiting further orders."

[00:00:54 Nakamura] : "Thank you."

[Door closes]

[00:01:02 Nakamura] : "I will now begin the examination. Subject IND1, can you hear me?"

[00:01:07 Subject IND1] : "Y-yes… I can hear you…"

[00:01:10 Nakamura] : "Good. I need you to remain calm. I will be monitoring your vitals closely. Please describe any sensations you are experiencing."

[00:01:18 Subject IND1] : "I… I feel hot… really hot… and my heart is racing…"

[00:01:23 Nakamura] : "That is expected. The virus is designed to increase metabolic activity. I will now take your temperature."

[00:01:30 Nakamura] : "Temperature is elevated to 39.5°C. Heart rate is 120 bpm. Subject's skin appears to be slightly flushed, and there is a noticeable increase in perspiration. I will continue the recording when the subject's condition changes."

[Recording stops]

[Recording resumes]

[00:49:52 Nakamura] : "The subject appears to be more calm now. Heart rate has stabilized at 110 bpm. There is a slight increase in body hair on the chest and belly. Moreover, it appears that the subject's hair is darkening slightly. The perspiration still continues, but the subject seems to be more comfortable than before. I will now take a blood sample for analysis."

[00:50:10 Subject IND1] : "Doc… my head… I think I have a fever..."

[00:50:19 Nakamura] : "That's a common symptom with the flu. Do you feel anything else?"

[00:50:25 Subject IND1] : "I don't know how to explain it but… my chest feels tingly… and it's like there are invisible hands rubbing it."

[00:50:33 Nakamura] : "Invisible hands? That is interesting. I will note that down. Please continue to describe any sensations you are experiencing."

[00:50:42 Subject IND1] : "I feel… sick…"

[00:50:45 Nakamura] : "Do not worry, the mortality rate of this virus is less than 1%. I will keep monitoring your vitals from a distance. Thank you for your cooperation."

[Recording stops]

[Recording resumes]

[01:34:17 Nakamura] : "This is Dr. Nakamura again. About 45 minutes have passed since the last recording. The subject's skin tone has deepened to a light tan. There is a noticeable increase in body hair on the arms, legs, and face, which has darkened slightly."

[Muffled sounds]

[01:34:41 Nakamura] : "Subject IND1, can you hear me? Please try to focus."

[Muffled sounds]

[01:35:00 Nakamura] : "Hmm... the subject's pupils are dilated. He appears to be mumbling incoherently in his native tongue. Subject IND1, are you there?"

[Muffled sounds]

[01:35:17 Nakamura] : "It seems that the subject doesn't seem to be able to respond at this time. I can observe involuntary muscle fibers twitching. It also seems that his musculature is becoming more defined, his facial features seem more masculine than what they were an hour ago... I will continue to monitor his condition."

[Recording stops]

[Recording resumes]

[02:15:43 Nakamura] : "Nakamura here. The subject's skin has darkened to a warm brown hue. There is a significant increase in muscle mass, particularly in the chest and arms. Facial features are changing further than before, with a more pronounced jawline and cheekbones. The subject appears to have developped stronger facial hair in the last 30 minutes."

[02:16:08 Subject IND1] : "Doc… I... why am I here again?"

[02:16:19 Nakamura] : "You are participating in a study, Subject IND1. Please try to focus. Can you describe any sensa-"

[Loud moan]

[02:16:32 Nakamura] : "Oh my... the subject appears to be experiencing a heightened state of arousal. This could be proof that the virus affects the hypothalamus. I can feel a strong odor emanating from him. It is quite intoxicating."

[02:16:50 Subject IND1] : "Doc… get me out of here…"

[02:16:56 Nakamura] : "I will do that as soon as I can. Please try to remain calm."

[02:17:05 Subject IND1] : "Fuck… my lul…cock… it feels heavier…"

[02:17:14 Nakamura] : "The subject appears to be developping an accent. Sentences are shorter. Abdominal muscles seem to be defined into an almost clear six-pack, covered by his growing body hair. Will report back later."

[Recording stops]

[Recording begins]

[03:12:37 Nakamura] : "This is Dr. Nakamura, and I'm afraid I've lost track of the time. The subject's transformation appears to be complete. His skin has deepened to a rich ebony hue, and his features are distinctly Indian. He now possesses a broader nose, fuller lips, high cheekbones. A totally different masculine version of what he used to look like 3 hours ago."

[03:13:02 Subject IND1] : "Doctor…"

[03:13:06 Nakamura] : "Yes? What is it?"

[03:13:10 Subject IND1] : "Doctor… I need… I need you."

[03:13:19 Nakamura] : "It appears that the subject is feeling infactuated. This is likely the virus attempting to spread itself through intimate contact. His smell is stronger than before. There is a chance that his body started producing pheromones to attract other males. I can feel something only from his odor. I must remain focused on my work."

[03:13:52 Nakamura] : "I will now take a blood sample for analysis. How are you feeling, Subject IND1?"

[03:14:00 Subject IND1] : "I feel… good… bhai…

[03:14:05 Nakamura] : "The subject's speech incorporates Hindi words, interesting... There's an increased mass in the pectoral region, evident from closer inspection, covered by a thick layer of shiny sweat. This is trully a marvelous specimen to behold...

How did you get out of the restrain-"

[Struggling sounds]

[03:14:29 Subject IND1] : "Yes bro, take my smell…"

[Muffled screams]

[03:14:45 Subject IND1] : "You like my pits, don't you? I smell so good…"

[Recording cuts out]

The audio recording stops at this point.

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A security camera in the lab was able to capture the events that followed. The footage shows Subject IND1 breaking free from the restraints and approaching Dr. Nakamura, who appears to be in shock.

Dr. Nakamura's pleas were cut off as the transformed subject grabbed him roughly, holding him in his pits. The subject's powerful, muscular body pressed against Nakamura's, his broad chest leaving the doctor drenched in his sweat. We believe that a strong, musky aroma emanated from Subject IND1, based on our current data.

"Shh, just relax bhai," Subject IND1 purred in a deep, accented rumble. His large, calloused hands made quick work of the doctor's pants, yanking them down to his ankles and exposing his pale skin. "We're just 2 bros having some fun together… nothing wrong with that heh?

Subject IND1 hooked his thumbs into Nakamura's underwear and pulled them down, revealing the doctor's most intimate places. Nakamura whimpered, face flushed with unwanted arousal as the subject's thick, hard cock grinded against his ass cheeks, leaving sticky trails of pre-cum on his skin.

"Arre yaar, look at this tight little lund," Subject IND1 growled appreciatively. He then spat crudely into his palm, slicking up his massive, veiny shaft before notching the swollen head against Nakamura's quivering, virgin hole. With one brutal, deep thrust of his powerful hips, he buried himself balls-deep in the doctor's ass.

"AAAHHHNNN!" Nakamura screamed at the sudden intrusion, fingers scrabbling uselessly against the metal table as Subject IND1 began to move. The room filled with the obscene slap of flesh on flesh and the heady, musky scent of their coupling. Beads of sweat rolled down Nakamura's brow as his body struggled to adapt to the relentless pounding.

Then, suddenly, Subject IND1 grabbed Nakamura's hips and flipped him over onto his back. "Ride me, bhai," he commanded with a wicked grin, pulling the doctor on top of him. "Take what you need."

Nakamura gasped as he found himself straddling the subject's thick thighs, that massive cock spearing up into his guts. His own dick bobbed lewdly between them, drooling pre-cum onto Subject IND1's abs. As if in a trance, Nakamura began to move, hips rolling and bouncing on the subject's lap.

"Yes, just like that," Subject IND1 groaned, hands gripping Nakamura's waist hard enough to bruise as he thrust up to meet each downward grind. "Fuck yourself on my big Indian cock, bhai. Take your pleasure!"

Subject IND1's cock seemed to grow even larger inside Nakamura's stretched hole, veins pulsing as it pumped the doctor full of its virile, Indian essence. Nakamura could feel it, hot, thick and alive, changing him from within. His own dick throbbed almost painfully between his legs, swelling a bit, the head flaring and darkening like Subject IND1's.

Nakamura could only moan brokenly in response, eyes rolling back as he felt something powerful rising up inside him. His skin began to flush a deeper, richer brown, muscles swelling and hardening beneath the surface. Dark, coarse body hair started to sprout along his arms and legs, thickening with each passing second.

"FUCK!" Subject IND1 roared in Hindi, slamming up into Nakamura one last time as he exploded inside the doctor's ass. Nakamura screamed as the wave of transformation crashed over him, back arching like a bow as his skin deepened to a richer, ebony hue. His muscles swelled into hard, defined slabs, abdominals popping out in a perfect six-pack that glistened with sweat.

The musky scent of their coupling intensified, filling Nakamura's nostrils and clouding his mind with lust. Body hair continued to sprout across his chest and back, curling slightly as it darkened to a deep, glossy black. His nipples hardened into small, sensitive nubs.

Then, Subject IND1 gripped Nakamura's hips tighter, fingers sinking into the firm flesh as he began to thrust again, fucking the doctor throughout his transformation. Each stroke sent jolts of pleasure through Nakamura's body.

Nakamura's dick pulsed and twitched between them, growing longer and thicker with each passing second. The shaft thickened, veins and ridges forming along the surface as it darkened to a deep, ruddy brown. His balls swelled and tightened, churning with backed-up cum.

The room filled with the sounds of their grunts and moans. Nakamura could feel his mind changing too, thoughts shifting to the need to rut, to breed, to dominate… The doctor threw his head back and moaned. His skin rippled and shifted, the last traces of his old self melting away as he embraced his new identity - an Indian stud, strong and virile.

As the transformation reached its peak, Nakamura's dick erupted like a geyser, painting their chests with thick ropes of hot, sticky cum. His body shuddered and clenched around Subject IND1's cock, milking it for every last drop of his Indian seed.

Finally, panting harshly, Subject IND1 pulled out with a wet squelch, his softening dick slipping free of Nakamura's gaping hole. A flood of pearly white cum poured out in its wake.

Nakamura lay there for a long moment, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. When he opened his eyes again, they were dark and almond-shaped. He sat up slowly, muscles rippling beneath smooth, ebony skin, and turned to face Subject IND1. "भाई, मुझे बहुत अच्छा लग रहा है" - says the newly improved doctor. He flexed an arm, watching the bicep swell into a perfect, round dome.

He turned to Subject IND1, eyes glinting with a newfound purpose. "I need to get out of here, bro…" he growled in a thick Indian accent. Then, with only his lab coat, Nakamura got out of the facility thanks to his keycard, while IND1 lay there spent on the floor.

It wasn't until hours later, when Dr. Nakamura still hadn't reported back, that security was alerted something was wrong. They found Subject IND1 alone in the lab, a satisfied smirk on his face as they led him away in cuffs.

But by then, it was too late. The IND strain had breached containment, in [REDACTED], were it could spread rapidly. We are still trying to find Dr. Nakamura, but we fear it may be too late for him as well. Subject IND1 is still in our custody, so that we can study this new strain of the virus. We will continue to monitor the situation and report any further findings.

[End Report]

[transformationaddict]

Demons of Wall Street 2

The demon of power found the perfect host in Gerard, one of the most influential corporate lawyers in the city. No matter how immoral or blatantly illegal the actions of his clients were, all bended to his will, and anyone who dared to speak up against him or the corporations he represented was sure to face devastating financial ruin. It was a high pressure job, and as someone who could never show even an ounce of weakness, Gerard kept striving more and more to climb to the top and pull out the ladder from under him.

The demon was more than happy to oblige, naturally attracted to Gerard's ruthlessness and need for control. It was almost intoxicating for the demon, who found Gerard finishing up his day. Though invisible, Gerard, began to sense a presence that both intrigued him and set him on edge. He was given little time to think though, as the demon wasted no time in crawling over the desk and leaping into Gerard, demonic essence seeping underneath his business suit and into his skin. Gerards eyes widened in shock as he felt something terrifying invading his body, quickly dominating his mind, filling his thoughts with just one word. Power.

A rush of energy flooded into every nook and cranny of his body, threatening to make him burst. Power. He gritted his teeth, his instinct to fight back kicking in, unwilling to be subjugated and conquered by whatever was daring to try and take control of him. Power. He couldnt contain it anymore though, and all of a sudden he felt himself erupt with pure power, muscles ballooning to impossible proportions as they instantly tore through his suit.

And just like that, Gerard began to welcome the demonic presence that had taken control of him. Horns sprouting from his head, he felt himself grin from just how much more power was coursing through his new form. He examined his monstrously hairy arms, now the size of tree trunks, then felt up his pecs, tearing away the rest of his shirt to revel in his glorious new size.

The world is about to know a new meaning of fear, now that Gerard is possessed with power.

The 22 second video for this and more are available on my Patreon with a subscription!

[transformationaddict]

(via browniecub)

Alpha Daddy pounding down some beer with the buds at the bear bar. Hoping he’ll find himself a hot horny young boy to make his own. Daddy loves turning his boys into big beefy men. He first gets them addicted to his long, girthy cock and his big thick loads. Fucking them like no other man ever has. Then he takes control. Plumping them up and getting them lifting weights. Helping them transform into one of the big burly men they find so attractive. Makes Daddy so hard watching one of his boys blow up. They love growing bigger too and being trained up into a proper beefy bull. It magical watching them get turned on my their new fat bellies and growing muscles. Watching them bloom into confident, self assured men. 😈🐽

[transformationaddict]

DAVID HARBOUR Thunderbolts* (2025)