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yassifiedfrog · 1 month

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AlterEgo

The last thing I expected on my 20th birthday was to receive a gift from Cody, my roommate. We were never close, and there was no way in hell he actually knew much about me to know it was my birthday without me telling him. Him and I were basically complete opposites. While I was your typical nerd, smart, introverted, and so on, he was basically your typical jock in all the worst ways. He was boisterous, arrogant, and a total meathead. We mostly agreed to stay out of each others’ way, considering our irreconcilable differences, but that didn’t stop him from being a massive pain in the ass. His room was constantly in a state of disarray, with sweaty clothes scattered all over the place. As such, I often avoided being anywhere near his room if necessary since it smelled like a locker room. He often invited over his “bros” who were just as bad. Whether they were hogging the TV to watch whatever game was on, smuggling alcohol into our dorm to get wasted, or playing catch in the fucking living room, they were always a nuisance. And whenever I brought any of that up to him, he would always end up saying something like “It’s not that serious, dude. We were just having a good time.” Yeah, a good time at my expense. Whoever assigned the two of us to live together must’ve thought this was some twisted joke.

I woke up at 9 AM, still a little tired from last night. I hung out at one of my friends’ dorms to celebrate my birthday. I yawned, and went to the kitchen to make some breakfast. I saw Cody was up as well, his legs spread across the couch, to the point that he was taking up two seats, watching something on the TV that was several volume levels too loud for me.

“Hey bro, today’s your birthday right?” Cody asked, as he tilted his head to face me.

“Uhh, yeah. How did you know?” I responded.

“Oh don’t worry about it, bro. Happy birthday!” I saw him get up and run to his disorganized room, likely to grab something for me. I could see a pair of worn gym shorts on the floor through the crack in the door. He pulled out an old Nike shoe box, since he likely had nothing better to put a gift in. “I’ve been saving this for you. I hope you like it!” Is this his way of trying to get on my good side?

I rolled my eyes since I doubt he got me anything I would enjoy. He probably just got me something that he’d enjoy, like some tight-fitting tank top or protein powder or something. Not that I work out or anything. The only gift I’d want from him is for him to stop being a douche. I opened the box and I was surprised about what I saw. It was a video game. Not any that I’d ever heard of. I looked at the box art and the words AlterEgo were written in a wacky, colorful font.

“Yeah, I knew you like video games, so I found this for you. I heard on the internet that it’s pretty nitch…nichy…what’s the word…”

“Niche?” I responded. I had to admit, him struggling to pronounce the word right was a little amusing. As amusing as being with a simpleton like him could be.

“That’s the word! I got it for myself, but I realized like half an hour in that it wasn’t my thing. I’m happy with what I have right now. I figured you’d probably get more out of it than me.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“No problem, dude. Anyways, I gotta hit the gym. I’m gonna be out all day so you have the PS5 all to yourself. Hope you enjoy it bro!”

I watch him leave, thankful to have some peace and quiet. As I ate breakfast, I read the back of the cover in order to figure out what this game was about.

“Become a new you! In this life simulation adventure, you can become any kind of person you want and live any way you choose. Control your fictional avatar, your AlterEgo, and level up your stats to become closer to your true self.”

The game seemed something like The Sims or Animal Crossing, but with some stat progression system. It was a game that I had never heard of, but it could be some hidden gem. The rest of the back was filled with screenshots from the game with the cartoony characters doing activities such as cooking, jogging, and riding a motorcycle. I figured I might as well try the game since I did get it for free. Even if it was from Cody, I wasn’t one to refuse someone’s generosity.

I put the game in the disk slot and booted it up. The title screen had that same logo and some bubbly background music. I pressed the start button and I was presented with a save selection screen. I noticed that Cody’s save was on there, which was odd because I was playing on my account. I knew I should’ve put a password on it. I wanted to make my own character, but part of me was curious about the character that he made. Knowing him, I can only guess. His game time was less than an hour, as he was only on Day 1, and he likely spent most of that time on the character creation screen.

I started his save and my character was sitting in his room. At this point, it was very bare, with only a bed and a bunch of cardboard boxes scattered around the room. I guess the character starts by moving into their new home? I went into the menu to find more information about the character. The character was named Cody obviously and his AlterEgo somewhat matched him too. I went into the stats screen and I was greeted by a tutorial.

“Here you can check your AlterEgo’s stats. You have already set your initial growth modifiers and assigned your base stats. If you need a refresher, whatever stats you chose your AlterEgo to excel at are highlighted in red and the ones you chose to trade off are highlighted in blue. This means that your AlterEgo will grow in the stats in red much faster and prioritize activities that increase those stats and avoid activities associated with increasing your stats in blue. As you play, your AlterEgo will naturally develop into one of hundreds of potential archetypes based on the activities that they excel at. Experiment and see who you become!”

I looked at the stat screen and saw a list of stats with a bar indicating percentage level. The stats included Strength, Constitution, Dexterity, Intelligence, Wisdom, Courage, Charisma, and Luck. Not too far off from DnD I guess. It seemed like he chose to have Strength and Constitution as his highest stats as their font was colored red and Intelligence and Wisdom as his weakest stats as they were colored in blue. Gee, why am I not surprised… Cody was anything but a genius. It seemed like he had 20 initial points to allocate wherever he chose with a default limit of 5. And I was equally not surprised to find that my meathead roommate chose to put 5 in Strength and Constitution again like a barbarian. It’s like all he cared about was his looks and perceived masculinity, even in game.

Strength (physical strength): 5

Constitution (physical build and stamina): 5

Dexterity (agility and flexibility): 2

Intelligence (knowledge): 0

Wisdom (intuition and discipline): 0

Courage (risk-taking and bravery): 3

Charisma (social skills): 3

Luck (good or bad fortune): 2

After looking through his stats, I decided enough was enough and I didn’t really want to go around pretending I was Cody the whole game. I quit out of his save and went back to the title screen. I was back on the save select screen when I became confused. There was still one save, except the name of the character wasn’t Cody…it was mine? The play time was set to 0 minutes. I don’t know how that happened, but if it saves me the trouble of building a character and reading more tutorials, I’m happy.

To my relief, the avatar representing Cody wasn’t there. Instead, a very generic, average character stood in its place in the same room. I wouldn’t be surprised if this was some placeholder account with everything set to the default. Whatever, I can probably change stuff about him later. I decided to move my AlterEgo outside and I was greeted by a map of a large city. I chose an area of the map to explore at random and controlled my new avatar. On the busy city street, there was a cafe, restaurant, and a gym. It was too early for the cafe and restaurant to open, so I guess my only option here is the gym. I’ve never stepped foot in a gym before, but this character doesn’t have to represent me as a whole. Plus, I’d like my character to be well-rounded unlike Cody’s who would probably spend the whole time grinding here.

I went into the gym and had to perform a set of quick-time events. First, I had to do some bench presses. Then some squats. Then finally, run on a treadmill. At the end of it, my AlterEgo did a cartoony celebration and flexed his arms. A pop-up showing that my Strength, Constitution, and Dexterity went up by 1, followed up by another one saying that my Strength and Constitution will double every time I do activities like go to the gym. So it looks like Cody’s modifiers carried over after all despite everything seeming to be the default. That should’ve been the first thing I checked. I didn’t want my character to be specced to be some lumbering brute. I suppose that if I wanted to get my character’s Intelligence and Wisdom, it’d probably be like playing on Hard mode. Honestly, I was open to the challenge.

I was disappointed to find out that it’d be harder than it seemed. When my character got home in the evening, I went into one of his boxes and I was presented with an option to read. I was presented with several options, ranging from comics to full-on novels. I chose the novel since I figured it would raise my Intelligence the best. I watched my AlterEgo try to read the book, but I saw a look of confusion on his face. Eventually, he grew frustrated and threw the book back into the empty box as if he were shooting through a basketball hoop. I expected my Intelligence to stay the same, but no, it actually dropped!

“Sometimes when your AlterEgo fails to complete an activity, their stats can decrease! These stats can even go into the negative. Make sure to keep your stats high because it can become very difficult to increase your stats if they fall below a certain point.”

I couldn’t believe that my character struggled to even read. This guy was nothing like me at all! I hoped that it would be easier to raise my AlterEgo’s Intelligence because I didn’t want him to be a moron. I watched my character fall asleep and I could see into his dream. Another tutorial popped up.

“Sometimes your character will have dreams! These dreams are mostly random, but will also depend on your character’s stats. Just like other activities, you have a chance to increase your stats.”

I watched my character fight in a zombie apocalypse, but the zombies didn’t even look remotely threatening. I succeeded in the activity and my Courage went up by 2 and my Luck and Strength went up by 1. My character wiped his head of sweat as the zombies turned to dust.

The next day, I learned that my AlterEgo can go to school. That was expected, considering my character’s age, only I didn’t realize how hard it would be for him. He was sitting in a desk trying to write down notes. Eventually, like an idiot, he slammed his thick head on his desk and started snoring. This was honestly getting embarrassing. My Intelligence and Wisdom dropped yet again, not by 1, but by 2. If I didn’t do something different, my AlterEgo would basically be a clone of Cody instead of myself. After class, instead of being given an option to go and do something, my AlterEgo is approached by a group of buff men.

Quarterback: Hey new guy, you’re looking pretty strong. Judging from your Strength and Constitution, I think you’d make a good fit for the football team. Your Dexterity and Courage also seem pretty good. Wanna join, bro?

You know who else played football? Cody. I had to keep being reminded of him even when he wasn’t even around. This was my character and I didn’t care about sports, so I clicked the no option. To my surprise, my AlterEgo nodded instead. It's like this game is going out of its way to spite me at this point. Two tutorials popped up.

“If your Wisdom is too low, your AlterEgo might act on their own desires rather than your command. This means that they can sometimes act on their own or select activities that they are more interested in rather than those they are not. Raise your Wisdom or else you will have less freedom when developing your AlterEgo.”

“You have decided to join a club or organization. This will grant you a passive growth to certain stats every week.”

I watched as my AlterEgo walked away with the group of jocks. A football uniform magically appeared over his normal clothes. For joining the football team, I was granted a point in Strength, Constitution, Courage, and Charisma every week, with the usual double for Strength and Constitution.

I kept playing the game, getting frustrated at my AlterEgo’s reluctance to even try to act smart or reasonable. He frequently avoided or skipped intellectual pursuits to focus on those that made him look or feel good. It honestly just felt random whether he wanted to obey me or not. By the end of Day 7, the first week my stats were looking like this.

Strength: 30

Constitution: 28

Dexterity: 10

Intelligence: -20

Wisdom: -15

Courage: 21

Charisma: 17

Luck: 16

My Intelligence and Wisdom seemed unfixable. My AlterEgo wouldn’t even bother to try to read or pay attention at school and he consistently started to make random choices that satisfied his needs as the week progressed. I grew incredibly frustrated at this, but out of curiosity, I wanted to see if there was an end to this so I could go back and make my own character. Either way, this game was plagued with questionable design choices. It’s like the AlterEgo was already locked into a specific path. I hoped that I had accidentally skipped a tutorial or something and that I hadn’t softlocked myself out of raising certain stats. Unfortunately, my AlterEgo’s stats continued to grow and drop as I hit Day 30.

Strength: 75

Constitution: 69

Dexterity: 44

Intelligence: -66

Wisdom: -49

Courage: 54

Charisma: 37

Luck: 41

I received another tutorial message on Day 31.

“You look like you are on track to evolve into your archetype very soon! By this point, your AlterEgo’s stats will be locked in place. That will be the end of the main story, but there is still so much to enjoy afterwards!”

I figured I might as well see this through to the end. You know, see how much of an idiot my character can become. Despite my efforts, all my AlterEgo does now is work out, practice and go to games, and go to parties, outside of necessities. His Intelligence is so low that he rarely even goes to school anymore and that has caused his intelligence to plummet to the bottom. I played for even longer, eventually hitting Day 60. Turns out that this is the day I would discover my AlterEgo’s archetype.

“Congratulations on making it this far. I hope you are excited to find out your archetype, because I know I am! Remember that these changes are permanent, so there will no longer be ways to increase or decrease your stats.”

I watched my AlterEgo marched onto the stage and I was able to view my final stats and a rating of each of them. The descriptions seemed to be heavily based on my other stats, and trust me, they were very satirical, and in my case, very scathing.

Strength: 100

I’d give this an A+. I’m not even sure if you are human anymore. I’ve seen you lift things that no normal man could, not because you have to, but because you want to. You spend more time at the gym than you do at your own house and you might give The Hulk a run for his money.

Constitution: 100

You also get an A+. Your months of training at the gym have given you a perfect, chiseled body that looks like it could be made out of iron. You have a seemingly endless supply of testosterone and your stamina (in more ways than one, it seems) cannot be beaten.

Dexterity: 75

This gets a B. You are very athletic and quick on your feet despite your appearance. However, your large size means that you can be pretty clumsy and you’ve probably broken more things than you’d like to admit.

Intelligence: -100

I’ll just go along with your teachers and give you a big fat F. Are you even trying? I worry that there’s not a single thought going around in your thick skull. You care very little for anything intellectual or sophisticated, not that you even know what those words mean.

Wisdom: -90

Likewise, you also get another big fat F. Were you dropped on your head when you were a baby or did you take too many tackles to your cranium? You have incredibly poor judgment and you only make decisions that satisfy your brutish desires. In short, you often act before you think. Your lack of discipline is only matched by your lack of brain cells. As long as you’re having fun, should I really care what you do with your life?

Courage: 90

I’d give this an A, but not an A+. Because your brain moves too slow to process any risk, you often think before you act. You often find yourself in the most dangerous of situations and you often perform incredibly stupid stunts. When you’re on the field, you’re a risk taker, and at least it usually pays off. On the bright side, you always come out unscathed, so I can commend that.

Charisma: 70

I’d give this a B-. Being on the football team and being very attractive is going to place a lot of eyes on you, but they are all focused on your body because everything else you have to offer is very superficial. I wonder if you surround yourself with people who think and act the same as you do or if people keep you around to laugh at every stupid word that comes out of your mouth.

Luck: 80

Lastly, you get a B. Your luck genuinely amazes me sometimes. Despite everything, despite your lack of any intellectual thought or reasoning, you have survived long enough to make it this far in life. This alone proves that life favors some over others. If there is room for the concept of a higher power in your shrunken headspace, then they probably feel a sense of amusement at the state of you bumbling around through life with only your good looks and muscles salvaging you.

“What do you think? Are you happy with your results? Anyhow, it’s time to reveal your archetype. It’s who you are and who you will be from now on! Drumroll please… (As if it wasn’t obvious enough…) You, my friend, are…THE JOCK!”

The Jock

You are likely an athlete or bodybuilder and you likely care little for intellectual thought. You enjoy playing and watching sports and working out above anything else. You are hyper-masculine, aggressive, arrogant, and egotistical. However, you are also very muscular, tall, athletic, popular, and handsome. You feel a deep sense of camaraderie with anyone you consider your bro, which mostly includes other jocks like yourself. Your wardrobe mostly consists of tank tops, jerseys, varsity jackets, shorts, sweatpants, jockstraps, baseball caps, sneakers, and everything in between. Because of your high testosterone and your above average genitals, you are viewed as a desirable partner and often partake in sexual activities with members of the opposite sex, and sometimes even other men depending on the person and situation. Your most likely career path is as an athlete or coach, but as long as it doesn’t require too much deep thinking, you could probably find a job anywhere with your connections and attractiveness. Enjoy your new self!

I watched my AlterEgo vanish within a cloud of smoke and come out a cartoonish representation of your average stereotypical jock with blonde hair and a very lunkish, yet admittedly impressive build. He looked around, clearly disoriented, with a dull, confused look on his face before flexing with a cheesy, confident smirk on his face. The audience cheered and clapped at this ridiculous personification of a walking stereotype as if they were watching a magic show. Honestly, it was almost amusing how the description it gave for “me” couldn’t possibly be more wrong. It sounded like everything Cody was, not me. Although I guess I was playing with his settings, not by choice I will add, but I had little control over how my AlterEgo decided to live its life. I just wish I could get him off my mind for just one day. Either way, I found myself incredibly dissatisfied with my new AlterEgo, but I accidentally found out a way to make things even worse for me. I just wanted to scroll through the remaining text to get to the credits, since I have been playing for 8 hours by now, when I saw a selection that would seal my fate.

“Are you satisfied with your result? Now that you’ve discovered who you truly are, are you ready to be The Jock in the real world? WARNING: If you select Yes, your save will be deleted as a result. These changes are permanent. If you click No, you can continue playing after the credits.”

I accidentally clicked Yes as I was mashing through the text. What the hell was I thinking?! I had no idea that this would change the entire trajectory of my life. At first I felt nothing, as the screen faded to black. Then, I saw the credits start to roll, playing a remix of the joyful title screen music, and that’s when I started to feel all warm inside and I felt a painful shock come from my controller.

I felt a sudden wave of pain rush through my body as my bones started to crack and shift in my body and my muscles began to inflate like balloons. I looked at the credits and noticed that the new jock AlterEgo was doing the things he normally enjoyed doing in the background. But I couldn’t really concentrate on it as I found myself focusing down below. My legs stretched and stretched until I was around 6’4. My feet grew to a size 15 and my thick glutes and ass made me sink deeper into the couch from their weight. The fat in my stomach felt like it was melting as it left behind nothing more than a layer of sweat and a firm six pack of abs. My upper chest formed into a round set of bouncy pecs. Likewise, my biceps and triceps were almost the size of my head now and my soft hands became rough and covered in calluses from intense lifting. I felt my clothes cling tightly to my body as if they were two sizes too small, and they’d easily rip if my body grew any more. My shirt fit more like a crop top on me and my clothes were damp from pit and ass sweat.

I felt my long hair recede into my head until it formed into a shorter cut that was much easier to maintain. As it did that, my chestnut-colored locks lightened into a golden blonde. My soft, round eyes became more sharp and masculine and I could feel them turn from a chocolate brown into an icy shade of blue. My youthful face lost most of its baby fat and buried beneath it was nothing more than the chiseled edges of my jawline. The lower half of my face, which used to be soft and hairless, was now covered in a prickly lawn of stubble. Even my pasty skin turned a shade tanner from the years I spent in the sun throwing balls around. I noticed that my entire body started to sweat profusely to the point that I could smell my own musk and I became absorbed by my new-found masculine scent. I could smell the testosterone that was pumping through my veins like a drug. I felt powerful, dominant, virile, and dare I say it, good… Lastly, I found my lips contort into an obnoxious, conceited smirk. Was I…enjoying this? Judging from the growing feeling in my groin, I was led to believe that I was. And it kept growing and growing and growing…

All the while, the credits continued to play and the happy-go-lucky music felt like it was mocking my painful situation. Despite the strange pleasure I felt, it was only a distraction as my body still writhed in pain through the whole process while I changed entirely into a real life manifestation of my AlterEgo. What the hell is this game? I noticed that the jock avatar stared directly towards the screen, as if he was breaking the fourth wall, and started to walk closer and closer before vanishing from his virtual prison for good. The lively credits started to simmer down, giving the screen a more empty and disquieting feeling. That was the last thing I noticed before I felt a sharp headache ring through my head. I am usually fine playing games for a long period of time so why…Why did my roommate buy me this game anyways, bro? If he was gonna buy me any game, he should’ve gotten me the new CoD or Madden game, not this weird shit. I had to admit, it was kinda addicting. I liked being able to work out or play sports even when I’m at home. Wait, what was that? I felt like I just heard another voice in my head, both sounding similar yet different to my own. Eventually he called out directly to me.

“Hey bro, it’s me. Your AlterEgo. You know, the real you. It’s been fun, dude. Now I get to enter the real world, isn’t that sick? So here’s what’s gonna happen, dude. I am currently inside your mind and I’m making the final changes to turn you into the person you were always meant to be. That’s right dude, we are becoming one singular person in both body and mind. Don’t try to struggle or fight back. You know I’m stronger than you. There’s no going back. So, are you ready to become one with your true self?

No…I thought to myself. I wasn’t a jock. I was never a jock. I’m nothing like my AlterEgo. This is a mistake. This was Cody’s AlterEgo, not mine!

“Chill out, bro. I know you read the warning and you clicked Yes, so you obviously knew the risk. Why did you keep playing if you knew you’d become a jock regardless of the decisions you made? Because you are one deep down. Or maybe you secretly wanted to be one. Maybe you wanted to see what life was like on the other side. Maybe this Cody guy wanted you to try out this save, you know, to see what would happen... Whatever reasoning, it really doesn’t matter dude. I know you can feel me taking over your mind. You’re finding it harder to think. Soon you’ll be The Jock, me. I just wish you realized a little sooner who you really were…”

I felt my brain starting to shut off and my vision starting to become blurry as my AlterEgo took it over. I don’t even know how any of this is possible, even by today’s standards. An AI buried deep within the game was taking over my body and mind entirely, reshaping me in his image. But I continued to resist, to cling onto whatever parts of my personality I could. However, as I felt my mind sink deeper and deeper into this mental void, I felt myself slowly becoming more and more like The Jock. The archetype that was decided on, not by me, but for me. Until that’s all I was.

Everything turned black for a few seconds. I slowly regained consciousness as my brain rebooted itself. Wait…what’s a reboot? I sat and watched the credits with a dim look on my face as it finally ended. I was booted back to the title screen and saw that my save was indeed deleted. This was proof that my AlterEgo was now a part of me and that he was finally whole. I pulled out my phone wanting to learn more about this game, because, dude, it was kinda fucking weird. By scrolling, I couldn’t find much, but I did discover a post from not too long ago on some ancient forum site that was probably made in the early 2000s.

“Is The Game AlterEgo Real?”

“I’ve heard rumors about this game called AlterEgo, but I have very little information on it. It’s said to be incredibly dangerous and could lead to permanent bodily and mental changes. Throughout all of my research, I could not find any copy of the game for sale, nor any definitive proof that it’s real or any information on the company that developed it. If you have any information on this game, please let me know.”

I skimmed through the forum page, not that interested in reading what everyone had to say. Who has time for that anyways? But I did find one reply that caught my eye.

“I can confirm with certainty that AlterEgo does exist. My friend received it as a gift for Christmas and he wouldn’t stop talking about it to me. It’s like he was addicted. A week later, when I saw him next, I could barely even recognize him. His body had grown and changed greatly and he didn’t act like his usual self. I even feel like his memories might be a little distorted. I tried checking his house to find the game in order to figure out what it was all about, but I don’t think he has it anymore. He probably sold it or gave it away since he said he finished it. No matter what, he won’t tell me. If there are any other copies of the game left, please let me know.”

Woah, so this game is fucking weird, dude. Wasn’t just me. I just played it right? But I don’t feel any different. You know, I bet these nerds would pay a lot for a chance to find out about this game. Maybe they might come out as different people. I’ll put it up on eBay for a high price. One of those dweebs just has to take the bait. I wouldn’t mind a little cash though. I’d feel bad for selling Cody’s gift, but just imagine what I could get with that much money.

“Hey bro, you still in here dude?” I heard a familiar voice shout as they opened the door.

“Yo Cody, there you are. What’s up dude?” I was happy to see him. Cody was my roommate and my best friend. We were practically inseparable. When he made eye contact with me, his eyes widened. I couldn’t really blame him for being impressed with my awesome body.

“You beat that game I gave you already?” He seemed surprised, yet almost impressed.

“Yeah, it’s not usually my type, but I enjoyed it dude.”

“Do you…feel any different, bro?” Cody sounded kinda hesitant there. Had he read about the rumors too? I don’t see why he’d have to worry. None of those rumors are true anyways.

“Nah, same as I’ve always been.”

“Alright, good. I was just making sure you were down to get some food. You should be out partying and celebrating your birthday, not playing some nerdy video game. And trust me, I know all the good spots.”

“You’re right bro. I haven’t gotten enough exercise in today. Let’s go.”

“Wait, before you go, your clothes are so sweaty dude. You should change.”

“Oh shit, good idea.”

“Y-you can just wear one of my clothes. They’d probably fit you better.” He was right. As I soon realized, someone shrunk all my clothes as part of a prank.

Me and Cody went to a sports bar to watch the game. If I remember correctly, this was our favorite spot to get food, except you know, anywhere that lets me hit my macros. Since it was my birthday, he even paid for the whole meal. I don’t remember how long I’ve known him, but couldn’t ask for a better bro. On the way home, Cody grabbed a six pack of beer from the frat house and brought it to our dorm to drink the night away. I wasn’t old enough to drink, but it’s not like I never had alcohol before. And besides, today was basically my cheat day.

We got wasted while we watched TV, and we did some things that I probably wouldn’t admit to anyone but him. I couldn’t help it though. I hadn’t gotten laid all weekend and it was my birthday. Quite frankly, I deserved it. Thankfully Cody took one for the team. He said it wasn’t weird because we’ve definitely done it before and that it was our secret. I had to give him credit. His tight hole is better than most girls’. I didn’t know he was a bottom until tonight. I also didn’t remember having a dick this big, but you don’t see me complaining. After all was said and done, I passed out drunk next to him in his bed, our bodies drenched in sweat and each other’s fluids, as I enjoyed the bromance I have with my best bro. This was the best birthday ever.

The next day, I got up extra early to go for a run despite my hangover. Afterwards I went to school, but like usual, I struggled to pay attention. It was like my mind was in a constant fog. My grades are slipping and this football scholarship is the only thing keeping me from dropping out entirely. After classes, I joined Cody and the others at practice. Throughout the day, I kept getting this feeling of uh…dayjah voo? That word that means that you feel like you’ve done something before. I wasn’t exactly sure where it was coming from. I shrugged it off. I was just a jock and I didn’t need to worry about stuff like that.

When I got home, I got an offer for the game Cody gave me. You know, AlterEgo. Some nerd seriously offered $1000 for it. I didn’t actually know it was that rare. I hope he enjoys it more than I did. I’ll sure enjoy the 1000 dollars. I bet he’ll love passing it around to all his other geeky friends. I wonder what their AlterEgos might look like…

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yassifiedfrog · 1 month

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Back from the Vault: Forbidden Love

Luke and Nathan had always been close, best friends since kindergarten when Nathan stood up for Luke against a bully named Josh. Their bond had only grown stronger over the years, and now, as college roommates, they were inseparable. Their small apartment was a mess of dirty socks, sports gear, and magazines, but they didn’t mind. It was their first place together, and they cherished every moment.

Both were in good shape, though Nathan was more muscular, often walking around campus shirtless, much to Luke’s amusement. Luke, though less physically imposing, was proud of his friend. But when Luke met Abby during their second semester, everything changed. For Luke, it was love at first sight, and since he spent all his time with Nathan, their duo turning into a trio was inevitable. But things started to evolve as Nathan, the athletic charmer, and Abby, the spirited cheerleader, began to take an interest in each other. After a couple of weeks, without Luke noticing anything different, Nathan came home one night and announced the good news to Luke that he was no longer single.

Initially, Luke was happy for Nathan. Abby was the perfect girlfriend anyone would dream of, and even though it was painful for Luke to see his best friend live the love story he had envisioned for himself, he was glad Abby was with someone like Nathan. However, as time passed, Luke struggled to find happiness watching them spend time together and seeing their relationship evolve and deepen. He couldn’t control the thoughts that crept into his mind when he was alone, and the guilt weighed heavily on him. He knew he couldn’t betray his best friend, but his feelings for Abby and the pain of this sense of betrayal only grew stronger each day.

One night, struggling with his emotions, Luke went to a bar to drink alone. The place was dimly lit and mostly empty, save for a woman sitting at the bar, surrounded by empty martini glasses. Her presence was almost otherworldly, with a mysterious aura that drew Luke in. She wore a long, elegant black coat above a black suit, her silver hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of moonlight. Her eyes, sharp and filled with unsettling wisdom, never left his as he approached.

Luke sat down next to her, ordered a drink, and before he knew it, he was spilling his heart out to her, confessing his unrequited love for Abby and his growing resentment toward Nathan, thanks to more beers than he could count. The woman listened in silence, her gaze never wavering from Luke’s face. When he finished, she smiled, a thin, knowing smile that sent a chill down his spine.

“I’ve seen men like you before,” she said, her voice low and smooth. “Men who want what they can’t have. Men who let jealousy consume them. Men who dream their lives instead of living their dreams.”

Luke shuddered, suddenly feeling as though he was in the presence of something far more powerful than he had anticipated. “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper as he felt tears of frustration beginning to rise in his exhausted eyes.

The woman reached into her bag and pulled out a small, ornate vial filled with a strange, shimmering liquid. The liquid seemed to pulse with a life of its own, shifting colors from deep violet to bright emerald as she held it up to the light.

Luke hesitated as he held the strange vial the old woman had given him. He looked into her eyes, seeking some explanation for what this potion would do. The bar was dimly lit, and the shadows played tricks on his mind, making her seem more otherworldly with each passing moment.

The woman leaned in closer, her voice a low whisper. "This potion is powerful, but it won’t work on its own. You must mix it with alcohol, something strong, something your friend would drink willingly. Once he consumes it, his transformation will begin."

"Transformation?" Luke asked, unsure of what she meant. "What will happen to him?"

The woman smiled enigmatically, her eyes gleaming with a mix of sympathy and something darker. "He will change, Luke. Everything will change into something else, something that will remove the pain you feel, something that will ease it, something that will be useful and loved, cherished by the masses and needed by the world. He will change into something greater, and you will get your desires. But be warned: once the transformation starts, there’s no turning back. He will become anything that the potion sees fit, and you will finally live your dreams instead of dreaming your life," the mysterious woman said in an eerie voice. Luke could hear echoes of her voice resonating in his mind as his vision was blurred by the alcohol and the tears.

Luke swallowed hard, his mind racing with possibilities. He wanted Nathan out of the way, yes, but he hadn’t thought through what that truly meant. Still, the jealousy and frustration gnawed at him, and the idea of finally having Abby to himself was too tempting to resist.

"How… how do I control it?" Luke asked, his voice trembling slightly.

"You don’t," the woman replied. "The potion will cater to his master’s needs, his deepest desires. It will bend reality to fit what he truly wants. But remember, Luke: once it’s done, it’s done. There is no undoing what you will set in motion."

Luke nodded, unsure of what to say. He took the vial on the counter, his head tilted, his sight lost in the shimmering emerald and purple glitters of this liquid hope. “I don’t even know your… name,” Luke asked, but as he tilted his head, he realized the woman was not there anymore, leaving him alone at the bar. The bartender claimed not to have seen her, and Luke wondered if he had imagined the entire encounter. But the vial in his hand was real, and the temptation was too great to resist.

When he returned to the apartment, Abby was asleep in Nathan’s arms. Her head was resting on Nathan’s shirtless chest, her shoulders hugged by his hairless, muscled body. A wave of jealousy and anger washed over him. His hand tightened around the vial in his pocket as it started to glow with a faint green light. This was the last straw for Luke, and the potion activated to this feeling of jealousy and loneliness.

The next morning, while Abby was still asleep, Luke approached Nathan in the bathroom as he got ready for the gym.

“Hey, bro, you free tonight? I want to have a few beers with you, just the two of us,” Luke suggested, trying to sound casual. Nathan, a bit surprised but touched by the offer, was about to decline when Luke started again. “I don’t want to be sentimental or anything, but you are my best friend, and I just want to have a night like the good old days. We are growing up, and I don’t want time and relationships to put distance between us. I miss you, bro…” Touched by that, Nathan couldn’t say no. He looked into Luke’s eyes and realized that Luke was sincere, even more so because he never opened up about his feelings like that. Nathan smiled before answering, “Sure, man. It’s been a while since we hung out, just us.”

That night, as Luke and Nathan sat in the bar, Luke couldn’t shake the woman’s warning. He had mixed the potion into Nathan’s beer just as instructed, his heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and fear. They laughed, clinking glasses as they always had before saying in unison, “Bottoms up!” Luke forced a smile, masking the turmoil inside him, watching intently as Nathan downed the beer in one long gulp. As they continued to drink and laugh, Luke almost forgot about the potion. For a brief moment, everything was like it used to be: him and his best friend laughing, talking about everything and anything, and remembering their good old days. Luke started to notice subtle changes in Nathan. His movements became sluggish, his speech slightly slurred—nothing out of the ordinary after a few beers, but Luke realized it was more than that, and a deep feeling of joy started to rise inside him. His past was with Nathan, but his future would be with Abby. Nathan jumped off his chair all of a sudden and started to walk as best he could to the empty bathroom. By the time he reached it, he was struggling to stay on his feet, his head spinning uncontrollably. "Bro, are you okay?" Luke asked, feigning concern as he followed Nathan with calm, unbothered steps. Nathan groaned, gripping the sink for support. "I don’t know… something feels off. Like… like I’m burning up inside." Luke’s heart raced as he saw Nathan’s skin begin to redden, almost as if it were boiling from within. Sweat poured down Nathan’s face, his body trembling as he sank to his knees on the grimy tiles. "What’s happening to me?" Nathan gasped, his voice strained with pain. “I don’t know, bro, maybe you drank too much…” answered Luke as he saw Nathan’s transformation starting to appear.

Suddenly, Nathan screamed in pain as he felt his spine starting to hurt. A crack, and another one, then one more, again, and again, and again. Nathan felt like each of his vertebrae started to separate from each other before growing and thickening. The pain was awful, and for a moment, Nathan couldn’t breathe anymore. He fell on the grimy ground in front of the sink and tilted his head toward Luke with a pleading and terrified look. He needed help, but as he opened his mouth to call for his friend, a new series of cracks started to resonate in his bones. Nathan looked in front of him as his feet started to crack. His favorite pair of shoes felt constricting. It was almost like something was crawling inside as he saw the leather starting to boil, and then, with one loud ripping sound, his shoes vanished into dust, leaving his transforming bare feet on the cold tiles. His toes started to crack, elongate, and thicken. His feet started to grow thicker and longer as he went from a size 42 to a 47 in a couple of seconds. They looked way too big and disproportionate now, and as his nerves started to grow in them, he knew that it was only the start of something far worse. Nathan tilted his head once again with tears of pain in his eyes and found the strength to ask for help. But as the tears were starting to fall on his rosy cheeks, the only thing he saw was the vicious smile of his childhood friend.

“Do you know how hard it is to dream of something and never be able to get it? Do you know how hard it is to always stay in the shadow? Out of all the people on this planet, I really thought you were the one who would always be there for me. But instead, you ended up being the one that caused me to suffer the most. You remember how things were easy before? How we were happy and spending time together? Bros before hoes, right? Well, I think you forgot, and the worst part is, I can’t even blame you. Abby is a pearl. She is kind, talented, beautiful, smart. She is everything. And you knew I had feelings for her the moment my sight landed on her. But no, as always, you have everything, and I stood there, watching you live the love story I deserved. If at least you were still spending time with me, things would have been easier. But no! You had the perfect girlfriend, the perfect college life, and I stood there begging for crumbs of the life we could have had together. The best years of our lives, right? I don’t see how this can be the best. Standing in your shadow and sharing a bathroom as bonding time. Well, tonight it changes. Tonight, I get what I want. And you’ll finally understand what it feels like to dream your life instead of living your dreams,” said Luke with a sigh full of anger and pain.

Nathan realized at that moment that he wouldn’t be able to get any help from Luke because he was the one that caused it. As he tried to get up on his bigger, larger feet, a new pain appeared in his legs, and he crashed back on his hands and knees as the same thing started to happen to his pants. They started to boil, and all of a sudden, they exploded into dust as he stood there in his underwear with his hands next to the toilet seat. His legs started to boil—the bones shattering and reforming into stronger, thicker ones. His muscles boiled and reformed into massive ones that could crush watermelons between them.

Then the same phenomenon happened with his shirt and torso. All of a sudden, he was nearly naked in the dimly lit bathroom. His new muscled body glistened with drops of sweat and tears of pain as the final cracks echoed against the tiles. His new stronger, calloused hands stood still on the cold floor.

Nathan took a moment to realize the cracking had stopped, and he spasmed as he could breathe a bit better now that his ribs were done rearranging. He blinked and his back contracted as he tried to get up, but as he put his new sole on the ground, he felt Luke’s hand on his muscle-spasming back, forcing him back onto his hands and feet.

“I don’t think you are ready yet,” Luke said with anger in his voice as he realized a new change starting to unfold in the center of Nathan’s back.

Out of nowhere, Nathan started to feel a stinging sensation in his back where Luke saw the start of the change. Then, just like a wave crashing on the shore, the sensation began to grow and move all around in a circular motion, leaving in its wake a more golden natural brown tan. As the wave of stinging started to reach the front of his body, Nathan realized, screaming in fear, as his pale white skin began to change to a natural golden tan. As the wave passed through his muscled pecs, his nipples took on a brown cherry hue. Then, as the wave finally reached his legs and hands, Nathan turned his hands to look at his palms, noticing a faint demarcation as the inside of his hands was taking on a lighter golden tan than the rest of his body. The tingling then started to get worse in some areas of his body. His armpits, legs, pecs, happy trail and crotch began to burn. It was as if he were being burned alive, and sweat started to pour out of his pores, but instead of water, millions of tiny follicles of dark, dense hair began to be activated by the wave of change. Nathan felt the hair starting to scratch against his new sensitive skin, and he could even see some of his thick pit hair spilling out of his pits.

Nathan’s breath was intense and fast. He felt the transformation moving, and he was frozen in pain and fear as he felt the wave finally reach the base of his neck.

As it started to move, his face began to change. His lips started to grow and inflate as they took on a natural cherry color. Then his nose cracked and reformed into a stockier, bigger version of its old appearance. Nathan could smell a faint odor of blood as his sinuses cleared and grew into a bigger cavity, resulting in a better sense of smell. Then his eyes were touched by the stinging sensation as his vision went white. For a moment, Nathan thought he was blind as the wave was rewriting his eye color and sight, changing from blue eyes with fairly normal eyesight to a deep, velvety chocolate color and perfect sight, protected by thick dark eyebrows. All of a sudden, it was as if Nathan could see the world in high definition. The minimal details of his tanned skin on the back of his hand were clear; he could see the definition of his skin pores and the smallest grain of dust on the white tile beneath them. He would have screamed in surprise and joy if it weren’t for the wave moving on even further, engulfing his scalp and his dirty blonde hair, transforming them into wavy, almost curly black long ones after what a beard started to grow on his new masculine cheeks.

The stinging wave was finally done, and all of Nathan’s skin was now a natural golden tan, leaving him from a white Caucasian to a perfectly tanned Latino man.

Out of nowhere, as Nathan heard Luke laughing behind him, he found the strength to get up and pushed Luke against the tiled wall with his forearm against his neck.

“What have you done?! Turn me back! Now!” Nathan screamed in a menacing tone at what he thought was his best friend.

But all he heard in return was Luke laughing as he realized Abby wouldn’t be able to recognize Nathan’s new physical form. For a brief moment, Luke thought his problems were gone and he’d finally be able to be the main character of his life.

“It’s okay, bro. You might be angry right now, and it’s totally normal, but look at you—you have a perfectly muscled Latino body now. You literally look like a Mexican god. The world is yours, and you can have anyone, anyone except Abby, of course.” As Luke finished his sentence, he saw Nathan open his mouth with anger and tears of betrayal in his eyes. He looked at his best friend in the eyes and there he saw it—a shimmer of purple and emerald green light that turned some kind of light off inside Nathan’s brain.

As he was about to talk again, Nathan felt his strength leaving him. His grip on Luke weakened, his head started to spin, and he almost fell back on the ground if he hadn’t found support on the sink.

“Come on, bro, don’t try to trick me now. Look, I know it was maybe a bit too far, but look at your body. You should thank me, honestly. Have you seen your muscles?” said Luke in a genuine tone, not realizing Nathan was going through another transformation. After a couple of seconds, where Luke continued to explain how this could be a chance for Nathan, he realized he wasn’t getting any responses. Doubts began to rise in his mind as he asked in a genuinely concerned tone, “Bro, are you okay?” Luke felt fear rise in his heart as he saw Nathan’s head tilt in the mirror and noticed the same green and purple hue shimmer in his eyes' reflection. “What the fuck is that?” Luke thought loudly as he saw the shimmer disappear, leaving Nathan’s eyes lost and searching for answers. They didn’t know what was about to happen.

Nathan started to see flashes of memories in front of him: his parents, Abby, Luke and him in kindergarten, football games, his favorite movies. It was as if his life was flashing in front of him before being stuck in a distant place, still there but harder to reach, present but not as vivid as it had been. Nathan was slowly losing the grip of his reality as he realizes his body was getting harder and harder to control, he could feel his body gripping the sink and moving his head but was not able to control those actions. Then he heard it, a thick deep manly voice with a Latino accent in it.

“Is everything okay?” Luke asked again as he took a step closer to the sink.

"J-Javier," Nathan stammered in a low, almost inaudible tone, his voice now laced with a heavy Spanish accent. "My name is… Javier."

Luke felt a stab of guilt twist in his gut as he watched Nathan’s memories and identity slip away, replaced by the persona the potion was molding. "What are you talking about, Nathan? Don’t play with me,” said Luke as he took another step forward. But as Nathan tilted his head up, Luke saw the same purple and emerald green shimmer in the mirror reflection of Nathan’s eyes as it vanished once more. “Nathan, no… Stop playing with me, say something," Luke said again, with a concerned look.

Javier shook his head, still trembling from the lingering pain. "No… I’m Javier, I’m… your bro... Nathan… getting hard to control... Ja… I can’t fight… Javier’s stronger… I feel… everything… Help me… I…."

Luke’s breath caught in his throat as he realized the full extent of what he had done. Nathan was being erased from reality in favor of this new Javier identity—someone entirely different, molded by Luke’s subconscious desires and the power of the potion.

Luke tried to find a way to stop this, as he didn’t want it to go this far, but Javier was already stronger than what was left of Nathan’s mind, his new body fully formed. He felt a warm tingling around his crotch as the dust left from his previous attire started to agglomerate and create a floral swim short, the fabric barely containing his newly enlarged cock. The dust then moved around his neck and wrist as it turned into necklace and a bracelet before going on his right forearm where it agglomerated under his skin to form an intriguing tattoo design shimmering with purple and green before fading to a neutral black and grey. He looked at Luke with a mix of camaraderie and newfound confidence before scratching his balls and putting his cock in place and moved closer to Luke.

"Bro, I’ve gotta get back to work. Always nice meeting fans, even more when they are as sexy as you. Hope you enjoyed this moment as much as I did." Javier said, his accent thick and natural as he kissed tenderly Luke on the cheek and adjusted his thickening erection contained in his way to short shorts.

Before Luke could respond, Javier pushed open the door and stepped out of the bathroom into the bar. Instead of finding it busy with college guys drinking and cheering on a football match, Luke was assaulted by thumping bass, guys cheering, pulsating lights dancing on the walls, and what looked like a stage with a pole dance bar on it. Javier strutted onto the stage, the crowd cheering as he began to dance, his every movement a testament to his new identity.

Luke stood frozen in the bathroom, the weight of his actions crashing down on him. He had wanted to get rid of Nathan, but he hadn’t anticipated the cost: the loss of his friend and the creation of a new reality where Javier now existed in his place.

As he staggered out of the very busy club, a woman dressed in a sharp black suit appeared beside him with a martini glass in her hand, her eyes gleaming with unsettling wisdom.

"You did well," she said, her voice filled with dark satisfaction. "Javier will thrive here. He was made for this life."

Luke’s stomach churned with guilt and regret as he realized the woman was the one he had met at the bar, except this time she looked much younger than when they met the day before. "How is it possible? How are you so young?” Luke asked in a surprised and intrigued way. The women only took a sip of her glass with a faint smile and her skin started to glow before starting to tighten around her face. In a mere instant she looked a couple of years younger, now being in her early 40’s.

“You see,” she started to talk in a calm way, “if there is something you can’t stop, it’s time. But fortunately, I found plenty of years ago a way to buy some. You didn’t only force your best friend in an unwilling life, no… You gave me all the happy years he could have gotten. And let me tell you, they are … tasty!” she finished as she took another sip.

Luke realized that she wasn’t drinking martini but Nathan’s life force: “But… it wasn’t supposed to go this far. I wanted him to change in order to get Abby, not turn him into… this for you to take everything from him. You said all I had to do was think about what my heart desired. I didn’t want that; he is my best friend, and I’m not a monster. I didn’t mean for it to go this far. I wanted him out of the picture, that’s all. Not erasing him from existence and my life."

The woman’s smile was cold, almost pitiful, as she began in a serious, very calm tone. "You got what you wanted, Luke. Nathan is not a problem anymore, and you are finally able to be with Abby. For the transformation, though, I never said Nathan would transform into what your heart desired. I said he would transform into what the master of the potion wanted, and you were never the master. It was me all along. And what I really needed was a new gay Latino Gogo dancer for my club. Now, thanks to you, Javier belongs to me. He will dance here, night after night, for as long as I wish. And you… you must live with the consequences of your actions. See? Everybody respected their promises. But I’m not a monster. Nathan is still alive; he just doesn’t have the game control anymore. Think of him like a VIP passenger on the cruise that is his life now."

Luke turned and looked back at the stage, where Javier was lost in the rhythm of the music as men of all ages were throwing money bills at him. His body moved with a confidence that had never been Nathan’s as he grabbed his tight swim short and started to remove it in front of everyone, letting his manly Latino cock out for everyone to enjoy the view. The reality of what Luke had done settled heavily in his chest.

As the woman turned to go back into her club, Luke grabbed her arm, desperation in his voice. "Who are you? Why are you doing this?"

She pulled her arm free with a calm, calculated grace. "I am the owner of this club. And this is how I recruit my dancers: through the greed, envy, and lust of men like you."

Luke’s eyes widened as the truth hit him. He had been manipulated, led down a path of destruction by his own darker impulses. And now, Nathan—no, Javier—was lost to him forever. As Luke was about to beg one more time for things to be returned to normal, he felt his phone in his pocket vibrate. As he took it out, he saw a picture of himself and Abby kissing on the beach. He opened the new message he had just received, only to read from Abby <3: “Where are you? It was movie night tonight. Did you forget? Come back, I miss you…”

Luke turned once again in the direction of the club and watched as the metallic door shut closed on the laughing woman before starting to morph into a thick brick wall, muting the music and the cheers of the customers. The club was gone forever, never to be seen again.

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Hey everyone! As I mentioned before, I'll continue releasing new, refined versions of the stories I published before they were taken down.

I hope you enjoy this new version of Forbidden Love—I absolutely loved working on it.

As always, feel free to share your thoughts by sending me DMs or messages. Your likes and reports are much appreciated!

A big thank you to @tf-vigilante for helping with the pictures.

Let me know if you'd like a continuation of this story, or any of the others I've posted. Don't hesitate to send me your ideas—I always enjoy reading them, and I'll do my best to bring your vision to life.

Until then, take care of yourselves, and see you real soon with more new content! ;)

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yassifiedfrog · 1 month

Text

Back from the Vault: Alexa

“What do you mean you forgot your passport?!” asked Simon through his phone.

“I don’t know dude; I was sure I had it but I can’t find it anywhere. Can you go and check in my room if I didn’t put it on my desk or somewhere else, please?”

“Alright, I’m on my way, but dude, really, you have to be more careful!”

Simon and Michael had been roommates for almost four years now. They’d been paired together in their first year of uni, and since they were getting along pretty well and their shared bedroom was small, they decided to look for an apartment together. Things turned out great, and they’ve shared the same apartment since then. When they met, Simon was pretty shy and lacked confidence, but thanks to Michael, he really came out of his shell and found the courage to live fully. He started going to the gym, taking care of himself, and making some friends along the way. He even managed to find someone he found attractive. They just started dating a few weeks ago, and he hoped he would manage to bring his love interest home while Michael was away.

Michael had always been the more outgoing of the two. Always chatting and laughing with everyone, his big dumb smile plastered on his face, letting his perfect white teeth shine and illuminate his face. Sure, Michael wasn’t the brightest student, and even though he preferred working out to spending his evenings studying, he still did everything he could to succeed in his studies and at his part-time job as a bartender. He also managed to have some free time to play video games, practice sports, and, most of all, play with the parameters of his Alexa.

When Michael saw the ad for Alexa’s new features a couple of years ago, he fell in love with the concept. The first thing he did when they both got the apartment was to put Alexa everywhere in the house. Simon was a bit skeptical about this artificial intelligence listening to them all the time, but Michael was so happy. Michael couldn’t stop having fun with his new toy. Alexa turned the volume up, Alexa lit up the kitchen. Alexa added ketchup to the grocery list. As time passed, Simon got used to it and didn’t even realize it was there anymore.

“Ok dude, I’m in your bedroom. Damn, you could have cleaned up a bit; for fuck’s sake, there are dirty underwear and socks everywhere! Gross!”

“Sorry bro, was in a bit of a hurry. I thought my flight was tomorrow, not today! Listen, my passport should be somewhere around my desk. I remember taking it out and putting it on my desk to finish packing. Look around if it’s not there, please.”

“Okay, hold on, putting the speakers on,” Simon said as he clicked on the button to activate it and turned the volume all the way up before placing his phone on the desk.

“You sure you put it there? I can’t find it anywhere, dude!”

“Yes, I am! It must be somewhere around. Take a look on my nightstand,” Michael said, half-listening to what his friend was saying as he was stressed and still searching for it in his backpack.

VOICE DETECTED

“Bro, I can’t find it anywhere. I don’t know where you’ve pu… What the fuck? What was that?” said Simon, not understanding where the voice was coming from. “Dude, did you just say something?” Simon asked again, waiting for an answer.

INTRUDER PROTOCOL ACTIVATED… STARTING INTRUDER PROTECTION PROGRAM

As Simon heard this voice again, he heard a beeping sound coming from Michael’s computer. Suddenly, the screens lit up with a weird-looking graphic. Simon tried to understand what was happening, still asking if this was a prank from Michael. “Dude, can you hear me? I don’t know what you are up to, but it’s not funny. You know what? Fuck you, I’m out of here!” said Simon as he started walking out of the messy bedroom.

“Bro, I know, maybe it’s in the closet!” answered Michael, not listening to what his bro was saying and still looking for it in his suitcase.

All of a sudden, Simon felt something grabbing his right ankle. He tilted his head only to realize his foot was stuck in some kind of cable knot. He smiled a bit, thinking all of this was getting on his nerves, but as a shy laugh escaped his mouth, the knot tightened on its own, and another cable wrapped around Simon’s left ankle. Then they started pulling him. Simon fell on his butt right onto a pile of dirty jockstraps and used socks. The cables resumed their pulling. Simon tried to resist, but it wasn’t working.

“Michael, help!!” he screamed loud and clear, but Michael had put his phone away as he was asking about his passport to his family.

“HELP ME!!” Simon screamed once again as he was dragged across the dirty floor. Then it all stopped. He was not moving anymore. His ankles were still tied to the cables, and as he tried to get back up, he heard a whipping sound and turned his head just in time to see two new cables grab his wrists and tie them up too before spreading them apart, resulting in Simon being held down against his will in the middle of Michael’s dirty bedroom floor.

“Michael, help me!” screamed Simon again, and this time Michael answered just as the voice started talking again.

INTRUDER NEUTRALIZED… WAITING APPROVAL TO START INTRUDER PROTECTION PROGRAM…

“YES!” screamed Michael from afar. “I knew I had packed it!” Michael’s voice got louder as he got his phone back to his ear. “Sorry bro, I’ve found it! My mom was keeping it and didn’t tell me. Sorry! I’ll catch you in a month after my family trip. I’ll grab you something from Disney World, bro. See you!” And with that, Michael hung up on Simon.

MASTER4S VOICE DETECTED… STARTING PROTOCOLS IN 3…2…1…

Simon was terrified. He couldn’t move, and now his only hope, Michael, had just hung up on him. As he realized he would have to find a way to free himself on his own, the cables started to tense again, pulling his limbs a bit more until his legs and arms were outstretched. Now he couldn’t move at all anymore.

STARTING SCANNING AND BACKUP PROTOCOL…

Simon lay there, immobile and jerking as much as he could in the hope of untying one of the knots when he saw a new cable starting to move on its own. It undulated on the floor in Simon’s direction, and as it got near his head, it floated in the air above him. There it stood just long enough for Simon to see it. It was different from the ones holding him down. This one had a device plugged into it, looking like something used for scanning. As Simon thought about that, the device turned itself on and illuminated Simon’s body in a blue hue, going from the tip of his feet to his head. As it scanned along, Simon saw a weird blue holographic square pattern projected onto him.

“What the fuck is all of this?” thought Simon as the device finished its work.

INTRUDER SCAN FINISHED… SAVING OF THE DATA… DATA SAVED… RESUMING PROTOCOL…

Simon heard again. Suddenly, the scanning device lit up again, but this time it was not a blue light. This time it was red. It started scanning all over his body again, but Simon felt like something was heating all around him. As he felt this weird but not painful sensation, he realized he was feeling something on his right ankle. He lifted his head only to see that wherever the red light touched, his clothes were disintegrating. His socks and brand-new Air Forces were already gone, and now he watched as his favorite pair of jeans was getting destroyed right in front of his eyes. Simon screamed and moved as much as he could in every direction, hoping to stop all of this, but it was not working. Worse, the voice started again.

INTRUDER NOT STANDING STILL, SPEEDING UP PROCESS BY 50%

Simon watched in fear as he felt his whole body getting naked faster. With the blink of an eye, Simon was standing there, tied up and naked on the floor. “Please, make it stop. I’m Michael’s roommate. I’m not an intruder. I live here!” Simon tried to talk with Alexa, but the only response he heard froze him in terror.

VOICEPRINT INCORRECT… RESUMING PROTOCOL IN 3…2…1…

As he heard those words, he saw new cables flying from every corner of the room. They were like snakes ready to strike, and the only thing he could do as he saw them freezing in place waiting for orders was close his eyes as tears built up on his cheeks.

Suddenly, all the cables jumped onto his body. He felt them plugging into his biceps, forearms, pecs, abs, and legs. He even felt some getting plugged into his fingers and soles. Simon was in excruciating pain. It felt like he was being stabbed all over his body at once. Just as he was about to faint, he heard the voice again.

MODIFICATION PROCESS STARTING IN 3…2…1…

Simon felt all the cables attached to him vibrating harder and harder. It was like his whole body was being shaken. His nerves were on fire, and he felt like he was about to be torn apart. Tears of pain streamed down his cheeks as he suddenly felt an electric shock inside his body. He was in such pain that he couldn’t even turn his head to see what was happening to him.

Just before Michael left for his family vacation, he received a notification on his Amazon account about a new version of Alexa. Being Michael, he jumped on the opportunity and upgraded it right away, without paying much attention to the modifications. The only new feature he was interested in was the “Intruder Protection Program” and its assimilation feature. “Cool,” he thought, “Just before leaving for a month, this new version is released. What perfect timing!”

Once the download was done, Alexa needed information to register who was welcome and who was considered an intruder. Michael did so and, just as he finished entering his information and was about to input Simon’s details, Alexa reminded him that his flight was leaving in 4 hours. Surprised, Michael jumped out of his desk, packed as much as he could into his backpack and suitcase, and rushed to meet his family at the airport, not realizing he never entered Simon’s information into Alexa’s database.

Simon lay frozen in pain on the dirty floor as he felt his bones cracking and compressing. He heard cracking everywhere, and at some point, he thought maybe all of this was a nightmare and he was about to wake up. But what jolted him from this thought was the excruciating pain in his feet. Simon felt his size 39 feet starting to grow longer until they were now a size 45 and a half. The pain was awful. He fell as his toes elongated and became more articulated. It felt like he had more movement in them than before. Then the same happened with his hands, and it was too much for Simon’s pain tolerance. As he fainted from the pain, the changes didn’t stop. Once the bones were modified, Simon’s muscles were next.

All his muscles entered a vibration state. They grew larger and larger until his previous slim, athletic frame was replaced by that of a gym god. His muscles bulged in every direction. Once the muscles were done, the vibration moved to his head. His nose was the first to break into pieces before being remolded into a larger, less slim version. Then the same happened with his chin and brows. Once the bones were done, the muscles in his face also started to vibrate, resulting in a more angular, jockish face.

Then the scanning device came back to life and started scanning Simon’s fainted body with a green light. Every inch of skin touched by the light tanned to a healthy golden shade. Once done, the device turned a yellow light and focused on specific zones: the legs, armpits, head, chest, and most importantly, the pubic area. There, it started to light up and remained immobile on the skin until a certain number of hairs had sprouted. This resulted in Simon’s body having slightly hairy legs, chest and an imberb face (except for hair and brows), hairy armpits, and, most notably, curly brown pubes.

When all the hair had been scanned, the device focused back on Simon’s head and his eyes. This time, the device emitted a purple hue. Unbeknownst to Simon, his blue-gray eyes started to change until they were a warm brown color. The scanning device turned off and fell next to Simon’s head, only to be replaced by another cable with a peculiar apparatus at its end. It looked like a tube.

The cable started to undulate toward Simon’s crotch and then, out of nowhere, jumped onto his 5-inch cock and grape-sized balls. Alexa spoke again.

LOADING BACKED UP DATA…

The device began to suck harder and harder, and suddenly, Simon’s cut cock started to grow and harden. It grew bigger and bigger inside the tube until it was now an 8.5-inch uncut cock with huge testicles.

GENITALS MODIFIED…

The device detached itself and fell just between Simon’s legs. Simon’s body remained immobile for a couple of seconds before he slowly opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was two huge pecs in front of his sight. He screamed and turned his head to the right and left, watching as his arms had also become huge.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” he screamed, but the only response he got was another notification from Alexa.

BODY MODIFICATION PROTOCOL COMPLETE… STARTING THE ASSIMILATION PROTOCOL IN 3… 2… 1…

Simon watched in fear as a new cable appeared in his sight. This one looked similar to the others that had plugged into his body, but it stood right between his eyes. That’s when he understood what Alexa had just said.

“No, Alexa, stop! STOOOO…”

The cable jumped into the middle of Simon’s eyes and plugged itself directly into his brain. For Simon, it felt like a switch had been turned off. He was still feeling everything but couldn’t move anymore. It was like he was no longer there, and for a moment, he thought he might have died. Then he heard Alexa’s voice again, but this time it was clearer and louder, as if it were directly in his brain.

SAVING AND DUPLICATING INTRUDER’S INFORMATION

Simon felt like something was off. It felt like he was being scanned deeply, and then suddenly, he felt himself falling into darkness. It was like falling into an endless pit of obscurity, and he couldn’t grab onto anything to stop his fall.

INTRUDER’S INFORMATION SCANNED AND SAVED… STARTING ASSIMILATION…

Simon stood in darkness, hearing Alexa’s voice but unable to move or react. He was frozen in time and floating in a dark place. Suddenly, right in front of him, he saw a bright, intense, and warming light. From all around, he saw movie clips floating toward it, merging together, making it grow bigger and stronger. Simon was forced to watch these clips until one caught his attention. It was a memory of himself and Michael playing Mario Kart. Simon remembered this night perfectly because it was when he realized Michael was a true friend, and he was happy and thankful to have him in his life. But it was strange because in his memories, he was on the right side of the sofa, not the left. It was as if the memory was mirrored. That’s when he realized.

“Wait, why am I watching myself playing Mario Kart in this clip? I should be looking at Michael, not myself!”

Simon panicked and tried to find another clip, only to see once again himself in front of his eyes, not Michael. Now he understood. Simon was not looking at his memories but Michael’s.

“ALEXA, STOP, PLEASE!” Simon screamed, but nothing happened. Instead, more and more movie clips merged in front of his eyes until the last one was Michael downloading the new version of Alexa called “Intruder Protection Program” in his room. Simon screamed as loud as he could, only to be cut short by Alexa once again.

ASSIMILATION DONE…

In the outside world, all the cables unplugged themselves and unknotted from Simon’s ankles and wrists.

Simon’s body lay sweaty and naked on the dirty floor for a couple of seconds before Alexa spoke once more.

INTRUDER PROTECTION PROGRAM TERMINATED… CAN I DO SOMETHING FOR YOU, MICHAEL?

Michael opened his eyes, and Simon watched, trapped inside his own brain, as his body betrayed him. He felt everything but couldn’t move anymore. He felt his body starting to blink before opening his mouth and speaking in a deeper voice, mimicking Michael’s.

“Nah bro! I’m good. Thanks, Alexa!”

With that, Michael’s body began to get up and realized he was naked. Worse, he was getting excited watching himself in the mirror.

“Well, guess I have to take care of you,” he said, gripping his huge veined cock before spitting on it and starting to pleasure himself.

Simon was in hell. He felt everything and couldn’t do anything to stop his body and this new Michael personality. Then he felt his body tense up and prepare to explode. He grabbed one of the dirty underwear on the floor, smelled it, laughed a bit, and said “Noice” before finishing himself in it. He then sat on the bed, the dirty jockstrap still stuck between his calloused hand and his hard cock.

The new Michael closed his eyes and slowly fell asleep.

TIME TO WAKE UP, MASTER, IT’S 8 AM, YOU’RE GONNA BE LATE…

Michael woke up with his dick still tucked inside the crusty jockstrap. He got up, looked at the time, and thanked Alexa. He looked around his bedroom to see what he was about to wear and only after 2 minutes of running naked did he realize he still had the jockstrap stuck to his cock. He laughed and grabbed it before putting it on. He then jumped into cargo sports shorts and a pair of well-used Nike socks before putting grabbing a red and white tank top under his arm and his favorite necklace.

As Michael left his bedroom, he screamed through the house.

“Simon bro, gonna be late, I’ll see you tonight!”

Before leaving, he never realized that Simon was, in fact, stuck in his own head, screaming for this nightmare to stop and for him to be freed.

As Michael closed the door and jumped into his car, Alexa started again.

MICHAEL OUT OF HOUSE… STARTING INTRUDER PROTECTION PROGRAM…

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hey guys, here is the first story I've retrieved from my vault. You may have already read this one a couple of months ago, but unfortunately, it got lost over time. So, I decided to post it again after refining it a bit and adding new pictures kindly created by @tf-vigilante for this story. As always, let me know what you think of it, and feel free to leave a like, share, or send me a message if you want to talk about this story or anything else :)

Let me know if you’d like to see a continuation of this story, as I have plans for Michael, Simon, and Alexa.

If you have any ideas or plots you'd like to discuss, feel free to send me an ask or a DM ;)

In the meantime, take care, and see you soon for more stories resurrected from my vault!

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yassifiedfrog · 1 month

Text

Country Living

When he stopped to help you on the side of this lonely country road, you couldn’t have been more grateful. You didn’t expect your car to breakdown on these desolate backroads. Nor did you expect a lack of cell service. Your years studying in college didn’t exactly give you the knowledge on how to diagnose and fix cars. But based on all the smoke, you figured something was wrong.

“Aw, don't you worry none, I'm right happy to help y'all out.” He removed his ball cap and ran his hand through his short brown hair, “Name’s Bucky. What brings y'all to this neck of the woods?”

He was certainly taller and more muscular than you- not to mention ripe with the smell of a hard day’s work. And you could tell he was looking you over, the juxtaposition couldn’t have been clearer. Country vs city boy, manual laborer vs keyboard warrior, dropped out of high school vs college educated. The list could go on. But despite the bias you held towards these country folks, you were happy he was helping. And so you introduced yourself and expressed your sincere gratitude. Bucky smiled and gave you a bone crushing handshake.

“Ain't no trouble at all, I'm just glad to help out.” He smiled warmly, his dark eyes, while lacking intelligence, were filled with kindness and just a bit of mischief.

He winks at you and you felt your heart flutter for just a moment. Maybe it was the way his stubble framed his tanned face. Or the way the sweat dripped from his muscular arms as he worked on your car. Or perhaps it was the occasional glances he gave you and the sly smirk that told you he knew you were checking him out.

“I reckon I know what's wrong. Just need to grab a tool from my garage.” He said, wiping the sweat from his brow, “You care to join me? Looks like you could use a sip of somethin’.”

It was true. In the sweltering heat, you were certainly thirsty. And while part of you wanted to stay with your car, you felt beckoned to go with him. And so you did. You climbed into his pick-up truck and watched as he revved the engine. And before long, you were cruising down the old country road with your car disappearing from sight.

“Well, dang if this ain't my favorite tune!” Bucky said, turning up the volume, “You figure you into this kinda music?”

It was some country song. One about cars, beer, and living on a farm. Not something you’d listen to voluntarily. But as Bucky sang in his southern twang, you found your foot tapping along. Soon you were mouthing the words, almost as if you knew the song by heart. And a moment later you joined in with him, the two of you putting your hearts into every lyric. You barely noticed the southern twang that garnished your voice.

“Well, I'll be darned! Can’t believe you like these kinda tunes. No offense intended, but you don't quite fit the mold, do ya?” He says with a chuckle.

Bucky gives your arm a playful punch and you look down at the exposed, tanned skin of your bicep. Your muscles were contracting and seemingly getting larger, highlighted nicely by the wifebeater that clung tightly to your skin. You look up at Bucky and he gives you a wink. Again, you feel comforted by his kind smile and playful dark eyes. You turn away and absentmindedly run a hand over your growing biceps. So firm and tight, the skin somewhat weathered. But deep down you know something isn’t right. Its nagging at you, begging for you to say something. To at least find out what’s happening to you. You want to tell Bucky, but he’s just pulled up to his garage.

“Mind givin’ me a hand findin’ my toolkit?” Bucky asks. You nod quickly- your anxiety being pushed deep into your subconsciousness. And as Bucky enters the garage, he pulls off his sweaty wifebeater, “Don't pay me no mind, it sure gets mighty hot 'round these parts. You’re welcome to do the same.”

And you follow his example. As you do, you catch a whiff of your pits. The musk that invades your nostrils is a far cry from the vegan deodorant you applied this morning. Moreso, your usually well-trimmed pit hair is now a curly damp bush of dark brown hairs that poke out when you lower your arms. The smell makes you dizzy and you feel like you might fall over, but Bucky lends you a hand.

“Don’t go faintin’ on me now.” He says with a grin, “We got a lotta work to do.”

“Don't you worry 'bout me none, I got this here handled.” You say- the words leaving your mouth without much input from your brain. Bucky’s eyes light up and he grins.

“I shoulda known that.” His laugh fills your ears and you swear it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve heard. He notices you admiring him, “Gotta find those tools now.”

You nod and start rummaging through his garage and workbench. You pick up a wrench and place it down. Then another and another. You never really needed to learn basic mechanic stuff, let alone the names of wrenches. You were more focused on your degree. Your degree in... In...? You stare at the composite wrench in your hand and your eyes narrow. You were studying something at that univer... uni... book-learnin’ place of yours, right? Your thoughts are distracted when some oil spills on your hands.

“Gosh darnit.” You mutter, wiping the oil on your work jeans. Work jeans that were stained and torn from years of laboring.

You turn towards Bucky to say something, but instead find yourself gawking. His perfect stubble across his face, the sweat gleaming on his firm and toned muscles, and the way his chest hairs frame his pecs. Your dick gets hard and you quickly start to massage your bulge. And when you see how well his work jeans fit tightly around his juicy ass, you can’t but help let out a whistle.

“You say somethin’?” He asks, turning to face you, “Yeehaw! Look at you!” He says, clearly gawking.

You turn to catch a glimpse of yourself in a nearby mirror and your eyes widen. You bounce your juicy pecs, appreciating the light dusting of hairs that decorate them. You raise your thick, meaty arm and flex, causing your muscles to bulge. And then you look at your face. It had squared out a bit, giving it a masculine edge and your cheeks now sported stubble. You felt powerful, and you couldn’t help but continue to flex.

“Hey there big fella.” You let out a masculine moan as Bucky comes from behind you, his arm reaching around, and his hand grabbing a fistful of your muscle tit, “You’re bigger’n a bull in springtime!” You just nod, unable to produce words as pleasure courses through you from his teasing hand, “It sure does get lonesome out here in these parts. Reckon I wouldn’t mind some company, if it ain’t too much trouble.”

He spins you around, your bodies pressing up against one another. His hand moves down your abs and then down your work jeans. He’s staring deep into your eyes now, a primal lust replacing the prior warmth from earlier. And for the first time, you feel lost. Scared even. As though you’re going down a path you wouldn’t be able to back away from. The end of one chapter of your life and the start of another you weren’t sure you wanted.

“Wait a minute... somethin’ don’t feel right. I... this ain’t who I am.” You say, unable to talk like you used to.

“Now, don’t go overthinkin’ it. Just keep your eyes on me.” Bucky whispered, his hands working to undo the buckle on your jeans.

You watch as he pulls down your pants and slowly gets down on his knees. Your enlarged, throbbing dick continues to grow, adding inch after inch. Bucky is nearly salivating as he comes face to face with your monster, and without another word, his tongue traces along the shaft. You moan as his mouth expertly works your cock. He bobs up and down, taking its entirety into his mouth. You feel as his hands wrap around your waist and he grabs a fistful of your muscular ass, causing you to let out another deep, masculine moan. You can feel your dick throbbing, your balls growing heavy with your seed. And as he expertly works the head of your cock, you can feel it. You’re getting close... so close. And then it stops. You’re breathing heavy now, and you look down at him. A sheen of sweat covers your body, dampening your body hair and filling the air with your country musk.

“Wh... why’d ya stop?” You breath out.

Bucky smirks, “You sure 'bout this, darlin’? Leavin’ behind all that city livin’ and book-learnin’? Just you and me, livin’ simple out here?” He licks along your shaft again, “Once you say yes, that’s it. No turnin’ back, no second thoughts. You sure you’re ready for that?”

Was this what he wanted? To bring you so close? To send you into a horny frenzy? To make it so that in this moment, all you’d be able to say was yes? With a smirk and a wink, he went back to sucking your cock. And as he did, you could feel it. You could feel your brain shrinking. Your memories growing up in suburbia vanished. As were your memories of going to college in the city. Nerdy interests like videogames and comic books vanished from your brain, and you felt terror as you forgot about your friends and family. Everything that made you you was vanishing from your mind. Instead, you could feel new interests: farming, hunting, woodworking, lifting weights, and drinking beer with your husband after a long day. Your fashion sense simplified: wifebeaters and work jeans, and honestly going shirtless was preferred. And as your eyes dimmed to reflect your lack of intelligence, and Bucky bobbed up and down on your dick, you finally came, releasing all of who you used to be. And as you filled your husband’s eager throat, you blacked out.

If someone told you who you used to be in your past life, I’m not sure you would go back. When the police came by a few days after your transformation with a missing persons poster of some kid, you had no idea who they were talking about. You quickly forgot all about that encounter. You had more important things like fixing the truck. But before you did that, you should check on Bucky. It’s been a few days, and your balls were mighty full.

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yassifiedfrog · 2 months

Text

Helmet Left Behind

Receptionist Tommy struggles with newfound desires after a motorcyclist forgets his helmet at the front desk. He's never spent much time thinking of bikers but suddenly he can't help but wonder what it's like to put that helmet on.

Sub office worker to Vers Biker TF! I’ve been sitting on a ref and finally had an idea to use it! Hope you enjoy! -Occam

It’s just another dull day of work at the front desk of Fordham Enterprises. Tommy doesn’t quite mind how slow and mindless the work is, he’s happy to smile at their few guests and field phone calls for people with actual things to do. The pay certainly more than makes up for the dragging hours anyway. This particular Thursday however he’s already done every major paper’s crossword puzzle and the clock hasn’t even struck two.

Briefly checking his email to find naught he debates whether to pick up solitaire or sudoku before his wishes for excitement are answered. There’s a ring of the door opening and Tommy jumps in his seat, just about everyone handles their business online so it’s rare that the man gets to flex his secretarial prowess. He barely holds back a gasp as he does not expect to see the caliber of man that now walks into his lobby. He’s wearing a sweaty tank and a massive chain around his neck, even more jarring than that he’s got a biker helmet completely obscuring his identity.

Tommy’s voice cracks as he welcomes the man in, “Ah! Good Morning sir, allow me to welcome you to Fordham Enterprises. If you um wouldn’t mind could you remove that helmet while you’re on the er, premises.” There is a pause as the mystery man stands there, Tommy gulps as he sees his neck flex as he clenches his jaw. The receptionist flinches as the man raises his arms to remove the helmet, his face burning red with blush as he hears the man laugh at him under the helmet.

Seeing his face does nothing to calm Tommy’s nerves. He fights against the urge to allow himself to be putty in the man’s hands as he lays his helmet on the desk before leaning onto it. His massive arms and sweaty pits lay bare in front of the receptionist. Eying the tattoos scattered around his built arms and the clearly less than formal outfit Tommy clears his throat before broaching the obvious, “You um, didn’t happen to have business with us today did you, sir?” His voice grows shakier and meeker as the short sentence drags on, the mystery man scratches his beard and smirks down at him.

His voice rumbles like an engine as he speaks, deep and rough, “Nah nah kid. Name’s Hutch. I was ridin by and figured you’d not mind if I went ahead and used your toilet.” Tommy grins to hide his discomfort, his sense of professionalism rapidly falling to the wayside as he sits opposed to the massive biker, Hutch, apparently. Uncomfortable desire burns in his chest as the man literally talks down to him, his eyes dart from his smug expression to the bathroom door and he pats the desk. “You’re a lifesaver kid, put’er there.” He reaches out a hand to dap Tommy up, an order the man’s body cannot ignore, before heading to the lobby restroom.

Tommy stares at his own hand, clenching it a few times after Hutch departs. Whispering, “fuck” under his breath as he sees his reflection in the man’s helmet. He knows people are into bikers but has never quite seen the appeal. Though now it is a demographic from which he could not possibly escape. Involuntarily he brings the hand grasped to his face and sniffs, finding acrid metal and sweat from wearing gloves in the summer heat. Seeing himself in the helmet’s visor smelling his own hand, blush again spreads across his face.

He struggles to get his mind back to his computer, though his eyes flicker from the helmet, to his hand, to the bathroom door with a frequency that makes it clear there’s nothing besides Hutch on his mind. Tommy hears the toilet flush and immediately after the man saunters out. Hutch winks at the receptionist, nodding as thanks before promptly shoving out the entrance. Tommy stares at his ass in his tight jeans as he does so, completely forgetting about the helmet sitting to his side. His mind remains scattered after the biker’s departure for some time.

Just before the day ends he looks up and makes direct eye contact with his reflection in the helmet. His pulse quickens as he only now realizes the biker left it behind. After that he grins involuntarily with the idea that Hutch simply must return to grab his helmet. He rubs his legs before looking out the window hoping to see the biker. The moment passes and his excitement fades as his alarm goes off, it’s time to close up. Tommy bites his lip while wondering what to do with the man’s helmet. Grabbing the headwear, it feels warm in his hands, welcoming, demanding. Before allowing whatever that feeling is to possess him he stows it under his desk. He’ll just need to pick it up tomorrow.

Standing up, he feels an erection straining his dress pants as he hurries to gather his things and depart before anyone can see his harried state. His mind can focus on little else besides a need to masturbate as soon as he gets home. Watching a biker sidle up next to him at a stoplight his usual thoughts of the irresponsibility of bikers can’t hold a candle to the surging thoughts of lust for the man. Watching him rocket as the light turns green Tommy gasps and strains not to cum right there. His left hand retreats from the wheel to apply pressure to his pulsing cock. Fighting against the basest mechanisms of his body.

Finally returning home, his pants drop before he fully locks the door behind him. Seeing a mirror in his living room Tommy’s mind flickers back to the biker’s helmet and he falls to the floor as his left hand frantically searches for bikers at all his usual smutty haunts. He fully blows a load as the first image appears on his phone screen. In lieu of the usual release and prompt departure from lust that usually occurs when finishing, his passion for riders only grows with each stroke. Tommy doesn’t know how long he sits there jacking off. His body weary from exertion eventually drives him to stumble to bed.

Left to the whims of his subconscious face down in bed his mind begins to produce its own fantasies. It’s dark, hard to see. He’s got something on his head. Something that’s driving him absolutely crazy, his body is heavier as he stumbles forward at an odd gait. A shirt he wouldn’t recognize as a pump cover drapes against his body as each heavy step pulls him closer to a mirror. Standing in front of him a hand meatier than he wields sluggishly pulls up the t-shirt and his face burns with pride as he sees his helmeted head on a body more powerful and fucking hot than he’s seen on anyone.

His body can’t help but grind against the mattress as he flexes his pecs in the dream. He feels up his heavy arms as his typist’s hands clench at his sheets. Ragged breaths wet his pillow as an atmosphere of sweat fills his dreamscape helmet. The locker room becomes a sauna as his body burns with the heat of exertion. Not having the impossibly defined core and powerful biker thighs he dreams of, Tommy quickly loses energy and control as he slumps back down and his mind goes blank. Left in darkness as he lies in his own cum, the only thoughts in his unconscious mind are distant rumbling engines and the wet between his thighs.

He wakes late the next morning, scoffing at the mindless mess he made as he sprints to shower and get ready for work. He takes note of the piles of clothes and cum stains on the floor as he plans to clean them upon his return. Sure he’s to have yet another uneventful day as his mind almost pointedly blocks out whatever biker fantasies it has been obsessing over. It’s Friday so just about all the upstairs employees are to work from home, but someone must man the fort. He sighs as he begins another day where he’s all but sure to not see another human soul.

Rounding the corner behind his desk he sees his chair pushed out and the flash of a reflection on the shined helmet hiding underneath it. He clenches at his own arm tight enough it should pull blood as he tries to will his mind to stay present. The hours his mind lost to lustful disregard come flooding back as he feels desire truly rise in his briefs. He barely shakes it off as he makes to sit down at his computer and places the helmet back on the counter where it was left, visor facing out.

Getting started on the few tasks to be done today there is a buzzing in Tommy’s mind as he struggles to keep focus. His eyes continue to trail to the helmet whenever there’s a free second for them to wander. Wouldn’t it be better if the helmet faced himself, almost like he’s not alone in the office right? Seeing his own face reflected once more in the visor the tides turn incurably as his will fails its final test. He stares at himself, twisting his head to check every angle as a haze encroaches over his rationality.

Shaking it off he finishes writing the email required of him, but every time his eyes stray from his own image for too long he swears he sees something move in the reflection. Must be eye strain or something, not like his reflection can move without him right. He glances over yet again, finding his reflection smirking at him. But, but he’s not smiling is he? Checking again he finds his own mouth matching a smirk that has never graced his face before now.

Leaning in close he finds another peculiarity, didn’t he shave this morning? He sees blonde stubble growing on his jaw, which of course only exacerbates the wide smile. His hands reach to feel his smooth jaw and find it precisely like the one pictured. Obviously, that’s how mirrors work. There’s a crick in his neck and he shakes his head, with each shakes his floppy hair pulse in thickens, sticking straight up with natural grease.

Eyebrows larger and lower than the one’s he’s personally manicured furrow in his reflection as he stares at a neck that looks almost as thick as his head. God has he always been such a fucking stud? His eyes lose focus from his own image and he sees the helmet as it lays on the counter. The sound of some phantom engine revving fills his ears, he can almost feel the rumble of one between his thighs as his cock begins to harden at the idea, thighs slowly straining his dress pants beyond his notice. He would be remiss not to just throw this bad boy on for a second right? Surely Hutch wouldn’t mind.

Immediately his entire body tenses, surging with endorphins and strength as Tommy gives in. His hands clench at the arms of the chair as his biceps bulge, rocketing back almost wedging themselves against the desk chair. There’s a loud tear as his legs grow almost a foot longer, kicking against his desk as he audibly groans from his clothes constraining him. He feels the air in the helmet thicken with his own hot gasps and heaving breaths as his chest surges out. His palms expand as his hands move to scratch at his thick legs and he feels the beyond torn fabric of his dress pants begin to mend around his heavy legs.

Rubbing the scraps of his shoes against each other to kick them off he feels his massive feet grow confined once more. Thick leather rapidly expands across the fabric, it almost melts upward into his pants, hugging his calves as they grow thick and heavy. Sweat covers his lower half as he feels his sundered dress clothes begin to reform into a thick leather jumpsuit. He struggles to react with anything but convulsion as it spreads to his crotch, the suit suctioning in while his cock and balls push against it demanding more room than ever before. His pants and shoes merge and create what may as well be a portable sauna as his growing body and pulsing package produce heat beyond belief. He feels drool leak from his mouth onto his still thickening stubble as an image he took recently at the gym pushes itself to the front of his mind.

Realizing the total lack of control he has over his body Tommy swallows his spit and tries to regain any senses beyond oppressive pleasure. He feels his arms larger than they should be and gasps in discomfort, sweat filling his mouth as he does so. Fuck he needs to get this helmet off. He quickly gets his thumbs underneath, feeling a scratchy beard that Tommy has never been able to grow, his chest tickles at the thought as he barely maintains focus on the goal. The receptionist pushes up with the new found strength and achieves nothing but pain in his neck, as if he were pushing up on his own head. Pleasure melding with anxiety as it begins to rise. “Fuck!”

Everything freezes as he hears his own voice reverberate in his own head. It was deeper, harsher. It is not the voice that welcomes people inside but one that shouts against the wind to his crew. He shakes his head as his mind begins to grow polluted with memories of a life he has not lived. Each sweaty breath introduces hours of the wind soaring through his hair, taking off his jumpsuit after a ride under the beating sun, racing against his boys and absolutely destroying them. All of them that is except, well-

He shakes them off as the itch underneath his helmet becomes unbearable. Likewise his arms burn as they continue to grow larger, his thin sweater rapidly attaching to his waist as it too changes to rough dark leather. He scratches at his bulging biceps as his skin itches with an intensity he’s never felt before, rubbing them against his suit as it continues changing material. He smirks as he flexes them, remembering the hours spent in tattoo chairs to get them looking just like he wanted. “Fuuuuccckk-”

His voice deepens even further, echos against his helmet thud into his thick skull as the voice surging from his chest sounds just like the rumble of his cycle. He grasps at his own thick throat in shock, feeling stubble and stray hairs spreading from underneath the stuck helmet. His mind recalls the rumble of bikes on the road as he struggles with the idea that he is absolutely sure he knows how to drive one. Beyond that there is a crackle in his ears as static begins to build in his helmet. “**-~kxzrt -og ‘s that you dude?”

His eyes focus with immediate alacrity as he hears this man’s voice, Hutch’s voice. He knows it is Hutch. He cannot help but sit at attention as the man speaks as any concern for his state fades and a grin pants itself across his face. He exercises his new, more powerful voice, words clumsily drop from his mouth “Yeah boss I’m uhhhhh, in a bit of a situation if you-” “God-Damnit Dog. Did you get your helmet stuck again.” His eye twitches as they slightly cross at Hutch calling him dog. To the rest of his crew he’s T-Dog, obviously. But Boss is something different than those bitches.

He guffaws out of own awareness as he thinks about his crew, forgetting he’s midconversation with Hutch. “Stop thinking with your cock, ugh. Can’t find anyone with half a brain these days. I’m on the way.” There is a rumble through the helmet’s built-in headset as Hutch must be riding off to find him. He rises to his feet and stumbles forward, finding despite the memories of a life at this height continuing to fill him that the muscle memory has not quite kept pace. He clumsily stretches his powerful arms and feels his still growing ass and thighs struggle to walk without tripping over his massive feet.

T-Dog makes his way to the door, constantly angling his thick neck to get the optimal line of sight in the small room. He wanders to the door, with each step finding more familiarity in his heavier body. Abandoning his post whatever few belongings he brought with him fade from his mind as too they dissolve from reality. IDs and tchotchkes of some nerd named Tommy mean nothing to the titan stomping away from the receptionist's desk, unsure why he’d ever spend a second in this corporate hellhole. Standing at the glass door he smirks as he hears the rumble of an approaching biker, he bursts out the door as he sees what can only be his boss approaching to help him. The man slides up and stands opposed to T-Dog, his right hand man.

T-Dog stands silently staring at Hutch who continues to stand chin raised in something between a smirk and a look of pity. “C’mere Dog let me get that off ya.” T-Dog uses everything within his power to approach his boss with confidence. His jutting pecs and wide shoulder have no difficulty squaring up against anyone. Veins bulging underneath his suit make it more than clear he is not one to be questioned, not one to be dominated. That is, to everyone except his boss. He leans his head down to a man that stood at least a head taller than him yesterday morning. Hutch easily grasps the helmet and yanks it free from T-Dog’s head, launching sweat rocketing through the air and dripping from his long thick beard.

Smelling the diesel of bikes in the air as a warm breeze blows through his wet beard, T-Dog can focus on little but the sweaty friction within his jumpsuit. His eyes return to his Boss as the man runs a hand through his sweaty hair and ruffles it, clenching it at the end and forcing him to make eye contact. He smirks with a knowledge that T-Dog will never understand as he sees a familiar blush rise above the thick beard of the man in his hands. Eyes burning with desire stare blankly underneath his thick brows. His own half lidded eyes take in his new compatriots as he pats him on the back. “Ready to burn some rubber Dog?”

T-Dog almost vibrates with excitement at the idea, he’s about to hop on the back of Hutch’s back before he sees his own beefed up bike sitting on its kickstand next to him. He hops on and revs his engine as he watches Hutch put on his helmet, blushing again at the idea of his Boss smelling his sweaty stink. He flexes his arms as he trails after Hutch as they exit the parking lot and zoom towards the nearest highway. At the last light before he truly has his first run T-Dog unzips his jumpsuit and bears his tattooed upper body to the world. Hutch turns to take in his beyond built-body and his mind is filled with ideas of the man he never would have expected seeing him sitting in that nerd-ass cardigan yesterday.

Seeing his boss turn to take his powerful body in pride burns hot in his heavy chest. The rumble of his engine does nothing to help the growing cock in his tight pants, pulsing larger with every rev of the engine. His feet impatiently tap as his desire for Hutch melds with his need to feel the rush of wind on his skin. The light turns green and the duo are off, eager to ride together to whatever end Hutch imagines. More importantly possessed with whatever carnal desires they are to indulge in when they finally take time to enjoy everything T-Dog’s new form has to offer.

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yassifiedfrog · 2 months

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Break A Leg!

Theatre themed fratification- When there's an emergency so close to the finish line someone simply must step into the lead actor's shoes, regardless of how impossible they are to fill. Besides, with enough practice or devil's bargaining it may be well easier than it seems.

As ever, hope you all enjoy! -Occam

It made no sense for the director to ask Jaime to play a lead in the play. He wasn’t even an actor, he’s majoring in Theatre production and is a vital presence backstage. He has always dreaded stepping out into the spotlight, and there are simply must be other actors teeming to take center stage. Leaving the director’s office Jaime is wracking his brain for any rationality behind the director, Arthur’s, actions while holding the script he apparently needs to relearn in a week.

Beyond the already live grenade of a bad decision to have the head stage tech fill in for a star. There is also the matter that you could not find a part Jaime is less suited for. The play was some fairly banal rewrite of Romeo and Juliet set on a university campus, and his part to be was Kevin, president of the school’s most exclusive Frat. His less than compelling love interest would be the president of the drama club, Ryan. Jaime feels a migraine coming on as he thinks about how he already didn’t care for this god-awful production as he wanders out of the building.

Grumbling to himself as his knuckles blanch white from just how tightly he’s clenching the script. “It’s just some shoddy wish-fulfillment, uninspired… Ugh!” His face burns hot as out of character, but well warranted, rage begins to steep in his chest. He paces the lobby of the school taking some deep breaths while struggling to understand. Perhaps his director just trusts him that much? Overly so for sure. Still he’s nothing compared to the actor he’s replacing. His mind leaps away from any anxiety about the play and to the reason he’s in this predicament at all. The lead, his friend Jake, fully broke his leg in rehearsal the day before.

Jaime wipes his own concerns from his mind and races to the campus’ medical center, thankfully nearby. He calls the actor, Jake, and makes excellent time up the stairs to his room. His friend is happily sitting with a cup of tea, ushering Jaime in as if he were expected.

The tech narrows his eyes in suspicion, “Did you know that Arthur was giving me your part?” He continues to stare daggers at his friend who just shyly grins and tilts his head. After a pause Jake speaks with a slowness that makes it clear he’s on some intense pain relievers, “Uhhh, are you not stoked about it dude?”

Jaime holds back his new rage lest he blow up at his friend, who is clearly in a worse situation than him. He’s been working on this part for weeks, two-bit as it may be. It’s not fair to bite his head off. Though it is quite shocking that Jake would ever imagine that Jaime would want to fill his shoes. Thinking about doing so while staring at his friend’s leading man face and adonic body make him question the sanity of his director beyond measure.

He looks down to the script and notices he is still clenching it with a fury unbecoming. He loosens the death grip and looks away as blood pumps back into his knuckles. Looking back to Jake something strange takes over his usually fretful train of thought God why am I being such a bitch about all of this. Through his stupor Jake watches as Jaime seems almost possessed. Just before he was clearly about to go on some rant about not wanting the part, a confident smirk paints itself on his face and his eyes glaze over.

He’s fuckin’ shoveled enough shit for this program, and now that he’s been handed a chance to be a fuckin’ stud he’s gonna pass it up? It’s almost like a drunken haze that Jaime cannot fight against, the thoughts are slow, deliberate, and impossibly loud. As if someone besides himself is shouting in his mind. Not only vying for control but fully taking it. The only thing that breaks him out of it is his friend shouting for his attention, “Yo! Jaime! You alright king?” He shakes out of it and is left with a bit of vertigo for whatever reason.

He starts to answer as he knows he felt seconds before walking into this room. How it’s absolutely nonsense that he’s been asked to fill this role. How much he hates the part. How alien the confidence of an actor is to him. As he opens his mouth to rant however, no words spill out. He stands mouth half open and his eyelids drooping. Stop. Being. A. Bitch. What faithful stagehand would he be if he did not listen to such forceful direction.

Jaime pulls himself together and puts on a forced smile. Unaware to himself, the longer he holds it the more natural it becomes. Hidden by the haze of it all Jake does not see his friend’s teeth straighten and bleach white as his lips grow fuller. His anxious expression shifts as if it were being molded anew from clay. Eyebrows lowering just so as his smile becomes one that demands attention, commands adoration, one that would capture and control anyone who lays eyes upon it. That is, until Jaime sees it plastered on his own face and the illusion promptly collapses.

As it drops, his audience of one applauses at the act, “See that’s what I’m saying J! You’re perfect for the role. Obviously Arthur knows that or he’d find someone else. You just need to-” before whatever sure to be an excellent platitude, he’s cut off as both men’s phones sound off. Time has flown and Jaime must run to attend his first rehearsal as a lead. Seeing Jake’s face drop as he sees the reality of ‘the show must go on’ Jaime resolves to give it his best shot for his friend, if nothing else.

He goes to hug his friend, squeezing with more effort than he knew he could summon before dashing down the stairs two at a time. Fuckin’ A man we’re gonna show these BFA Bitches what’s up! Like the thought was a buzz by his ear, Jaime swats at the air as it comes from nowhere. Only a tad concerned that the stress of it all is already getting to him, he reminds himself of his many hardened days setting up equipment and running tech by himself. How hard could spewing some poorly-written lines be.

Sneaking up like a sneeze the new voice rears up yet again, That’s what's up bro! Bro. There is simply no way he would ever deign to refer to himself as “bro?” Is this what getting into character is like? He wonders as he wanders to the stage, his other actors preparing their lines. Arthur, the director, looks at him with a sigh of relief as Jaime eyes the set, for the first time from an actor’s point of view.

Jaime always has a critical eye at his own work, and he has been consistently honest about his disdain for this show. But as he looks at the set that he has worked tirelessly to keep standing he feels something more sinister than judgment rise in his stomach. Fuck and we were worried? This play looks like shit huhuh! How could we not live up to it. His eye twitches as he tries to latch on to the fact that his mind just referred to itself as we. Mind increasingly jumbled, his eyes trace up towards the lights like he’s trying to force a sneeze thinking that will help. Lo and behold he does produce a sneeze.

Everyone jerks to look at the mousy man as he blasts a sneeze louder than their sound equipment could produce. All eyes widen in shock though none see the truly bewildering occurrence. The director squints and suspiciously looks to find any changes in his lead. Jaime was always a triple sneezer and as he takes in air the other thespians cover their ears for an encore. Jaime inhales like his lungs were bellows and upon his second release the director notices an impossibility. His lead actor was now taller.

Shins exposed above his socks, Jaime tries to pull down his shirt to cover his midriff as a gust blows through the cold theater. Arthur crosses his fingers as he tries to will his once stagehand to sneeze yet again. Watching Jaime’s nose twitch and his shoulders rise, staring at his thin chest taking heaving breaths, Arthur barely maintains a straight face as he delights in his fellow student’s discomfort. His eyes glint thinking of how Jaime will become for him a perfect Kevin.

It’s as if a grenade went off in Jaime’s head, his ears ring and his vision goes white as his body recovers from recoiling with a power that has left him standing half a foot taller. He grabs aimlessly for something to steady himself, his fingers tingling as new nerve endings stretch to connect the ends of his expanded wingspan. He shakes his head to return to his senses and feels his hair flop longer on his head, as if he went to a barber and asked to look like an asshole. Hey fucker watch it! ‘S your look now either way huhuh. Arthur may as well have a boner watching the puny stagehand being sculpted into a leading man.

Feeling a wall behind him Jaime slides against it to the floor, knees catching and arching a high angle as he’s unfamiliar with their new length. He feels at his hair and rubs his eyes to reawaken his vision, his trademark anxiety rightfully returning as he worries what he will see when he opens them. Without any input from him his face hurriedly changes to hide his discomfort, launching into his now familiar smarmy smile. His face struggles to pull it all together, with his ever-furrowed brow and downcast eyes, but as the seconds pass that too begins to change. C’mon now dude, get your ass off the floor or I’ll have to speed things up.

Speed things up!? He retorts within his own mind as his eyebrows raise and thicken. Still smiling, his jaw widens and sharpens creating a strong angle that draws the eyes of any room to his face. His spotty vision returns and he finds himself looking about the stage from a startlingly new vantage point. Tripping over his new legs he gasps as he takes a step and finds his feet filling his slip proof vans nearly to their ripping point. He kicks them off with a pained grunt and both his own voice and the other think Fuck what a relief. His intruder follows it up with a hard laugh and a Sorry about the smell bro huhuh.

Jaime quickly sniffs and finds an impossibly rank foot odor that can come from no one but himself. His impeccable smile quivers with nerves as he looks down to inspect his feet, same socks as always. Now strained as his foot inches wider than he would’ve said his hands could stretch. God they look like clown feet! More like a swimmer or uhhh, fucken basketball star- Jaime turns on the spot thinking all of this is some needless prank, leaving sweat stains on the floor with every footstep.

Instead he finds his director approaching with a costume, forcing him to remember the actual predicament he was in. That costume was sure to be far too big for him, I mean Jake is massive. He wants to keep going on that train of thought but his mind goes blank as confidence begins to burn in his chest. Thinking of his friend it shifts to a more sinister feeling of self-important arrogance that he tries to push down while waiting for his director. There is a grumble as he pointedly fights against his own ego.

Arthur takes his time, having to pause as he gets too close and discovers Jaime’s new stink. He tilts his head and smiles uncomfortably assuring himself that he hasn’t made a mistake. It’s all part of the process. Excitement builds yet again as he notices that not only has his star continued to grow taller, but his face is correcting itself from one that best be kept backstage. He grimaces as he gets closer to the root of the stink, hoping the costume’s shoes are scent proof as he tosses them to the floor and backs away, smiling at Jaime, “Ready for rehearsal Kevin?”

Jaime rolls his eyes at being referred to by his character's name, at the same time his body burns with excitement. He is filled with an eagerness to move, to change into his costume, to fuckin’ do this shit. Suddenly all the pieces fly together as he holds the almost electric consume in his hands. That little dork has done something to me. He stares at his own hands and clenches one into a fist, frowning as new veins dance across it. “What did you do to me Art.” The director nervously chuckles and jumps out of arm reach, “What ever could you, um, mean Kev?”

His eye twitches as he is again referred to as Kevin. Jaime finds himself torn between two instincts and struggles to identify which one comes from himself or from Kevin. His arm vibrates as he wants to swing on the director for whatever absolute bullshit is going on. But holding his costume his body aches with an overwhelming desire to put it on. Stuck in between the two his body takes the matter into its own hands, ripping off the shirt that was already straining on his shoulders.

“Oh! Just gonna change here are ya? That is uh, yeah, that’s fine! Hey all take five! Kev needs the stage and then we’ll go over plans backstage!” Jaime stays his hands as they aim to pull down his pants in front of his whole class. His chest tightening with anxiety as it takes everything in his power to prevent himself from such an inappropriate act. He finds his mind briefly caught on the dread of his body moving without any clear volition and his hands immediately rip off his pants. Tears well up in his eyes as they widen in a fear greater than any phobia could be. Yo bro, you need to chill before we have a fuckin’ stroke or something.

His head twitches as the voice returns and his hands stop moving beyond his control, too little too late of course as he stands, thankfully alone, on the stage in only his tight briefs. Rules. There are rules to this. It cannot speak and control him. For now bro, but really you should just give in. Don’t you want to feel like a king? He looks down at his torso, elongated to a height anyone would be proud of but almost thinner than it was before.

His eyes then notice his briefs, more importantly the larger cock straining within them. His eyes flicker to a color not their own as he concedes, maybe Kev has a point? Naming the voice. Respecting Kev. Giving the presence any room at all, Jaime finds the nail in his coffin. His body lurches and his cock pulses larger, fully peeking out of his briefs as his balls feel uncomfortably tight beneath it.

Jaime rips them off without a further thought and exposes his growing boner to the open air. Brooo, gotta keep it contained lmao. He blushes as somehow this invasive dullard was just the voice of reason and he jumps to throw on the costume, finding a pair of shorts that cover barely more than his briefs did.

In short order he throws on the dirty white shoes that do next to nothing to hide his foot odor as well as a crop top that hangs off his thin chest. Wearing the costume there is a pang of familiarity in his mind. This isn’t a costume, these are his clothes. They don’t fit but they are his, they are him. He looks down seeing his cock pulse in his shorts, his feet fitting snugly in filthy shoes, and the script lying near his feet, his name no longer written in the top right corner. Not gonna need that anymore bro. Fuck. He falls back into unconsciousness.

He awakens to stage lights, not on him but in front of him. Standing in the wings watching Arthur direct the actors. He starts to loose a sigh of relief assuming the insanity of all that was just a nightmare. More like a dream bro. Before the voice even finishes he looks down to find himself wearing his clothes. No, his costume. While you were out those fuckers wanted us in a dance belt! No way imma let them hide our lil guy right? Huhuh. He can’t help but feel giddy as the voice laughs. Agreeing wholeheartedly as his cock bounces in his loose short shorts. Suddenly his attention is drawn to the stage as he hears his name mentioned, he looks to see his love interest monologuing and is absorbed in the play. Forgetting his disdain for the material. Forgetting even that this is a play as he watches Ryan talk, his cock immediately chubbing in his shorts. Fuck, he’s hot. Both voices agree at once. Barely able to discern what he’s saying over the rising heat of his crotch he smirks as he realizes that Ryan is talking about him.

Lustful thoughts fill his mind as his body quickly begins to fill out his costume. Some other putz out there questions his taste and Ryan launches into an ode lauding Kevin. Blushing as he talks about his figure, abs punch out of his exposed waist as the thin, almost hourglass shape fills out. His chest pumps larger, filling his crop top to straining. There is a stretching sound as his calves burst larger, and above that his thighs grow meaty as the thin blonde hair that has long covered his legs thickens and curls. His pubes expand down his thighs, just peeking below the hem of his shorts and crawling up toward his belly button.

“He’s just such a stud, y'know?” Ryan whines on the stage sending his costar into overdrive as biceps burst into existence, the pits beneath them becoming emblematic of his virility. Spreading his scent far and wide, attracting disgust and lust in equal parts. The charming smarm of a face shifts ever so darker as arrogance graces his eyes, never to depart again.

He scratches at his chin as a shoddy goatee pushes out, memories of almost a decade working backstage swiftly fade as a spark maintained in his eyes disappears to be replaced by simmering self-superiority. Whatever dregs of Jaime remained in him sift away as he puffs out his chest. Something in the back of his mind compels him to stop forward into the spotlight. As it was written. Pride drips from his voice as it cracks deeper, “You rang babe?”

This is his line. It is what Kevin is supposed to say. Ryan and the other actors on stage expect it and react accordingly as the man saunters over and throws himself into a chair. His mind is nothing but what is printed on paper as the scene continues, his body moving through the motions flexing when called for, guffawing as commanded, and responding with the smugness of who he is. He loses himself beyond retrieval in the scene. Feeling a lust for his stage partner who tries to ignore as Kevin’s package begins to bulge larger. Everything changes when one of Ryan’s friends calls his masculinity into question. Kevin feels his face burn as adrenaline surges through him, veins pulsing everywhere his skin is exposed.

Seeing some drama dork try and post up against Ryan his body moves with a haste that a fight coordinator would caution against. But those fuckin’ dweebs don’t know what they’re talking about. He grabs the actor by the scruff of his shirt and pulls him into the air, the actor is shocked and looks nervously into the unfamiliar eyes of Kevin, he whispers a name that Kevin cannot hear. “J****?” Something about that makes him uncomfortable. Makes him angry.

Kev twists his neck to shake it off as he begins to grow even more. There’s a tearing sound as he sends a rip down the back of his crop top. His shoulders pressing wider as he puts his arms around the other actor and pulls him to the floor. “Watch your fuckin’ mouth bro! None of you little emo ass punks are gonna stand between me and my babe!” There is a shuffle backstage and in the seats as Kevin begins to go off-script. Still employing stage fighting techniques whether he knows it or not as he pulls the actor to his knees, Ryan watching nearby, not quite comfortable with the improvised changes so close to opening. But he’s not the director.

In the darkened audience Arthur wonders if he has bitten off more than he could chew. At the same time his eyes glimmer as he sees the perfect Kevin spontaneously appear on the stage. He almost immediately bursts into applause as he sees brutish realism erupt on the stage. Handedly defeating the challenger, Kevin's next stage direction is to launch into a celebration. The epitome of a frat bro runs around the stage and grabs a red solo cup, pouring beer all over himself despite the cup being empty before he grabbed it.

“Shit.” Arthur whispers as the man continues a chaotic spree on the stage. The director feels something shift as it becomes evident that he no longer has a hand on the ball. The directions called for a party after the duel and Kevin was going to perform as such, quickly going beyond the pale. Ryan and the other actors playing theater kids eye the director uncomfortably as the situation begins to grow worse.

Without thinking Kevin goes up to an actor playing one of his frat bros, a would-be montague in this wretched adaptation, and tosses a beer in his face cheering and guffawing. The director watches in confusion as beer that should not be on this stage drips down the actor’s costume. Arthur is shocked as the actor does not react with revulsion but a meaty guffaw, throwing an arm around Kevin, his laughter growing deeper with each heaving breath. Then the bacchanal begins outright.

As demanded, a frat party begins on the stage. The usual limitations of logistics and theatrical constraint disappear as the stage quickly changes to an impossibly realistic frat row, with Kevin at the center. Changes pulsating out from him as the ensemble of mousy actors quickly begin to change just as Kevin did. Faces always clean shaven rapidly fill with gross beards. Necks loll back as bodies grow beyond the constraints of their cheap costumes. Pecs bursting larger as the men feel their minds being corrupted.

They feel as their bodies are no longer led by their prodigious minds, but controlled by the incessant desires issuing from their balls. The whole theater rapidly fills with the musk of a frat house unconcerned with hygiene. Every pair of eyes glazed over as they take part in the jubilation, dumb expressions making it clear that the minds behind are even less than one-track. Their sweaty bodies shove against each other, languishing in contact with their fellow brothers as everything that matters dissolves. They become little more than satyrs, ever obsessed with hedonism and the pursuits of their loins. The only thing to keep them in check is their president.

Kevin stands on a table to encourage the revelry, his cock impossible to miss as he grows to be the ideal president of this vile crew. The director’s mind races to find a solution to this mess that he simply must have monkey’s pawed into existence. Then it strikes him just before he feels something deep in his own core begin to change. He was also an understudy to Ben, Kevin’s right hand man.

He feels anxiety quickly rise in his gut, heart racing as his clothes suddenly feel impossibly tight. He opens his mouth to scream and instead releases a burp. His anxiety promptly fades as he can’t help but laugh at his own burp, his thin arms ballooning to suspiciously large proportions and his mind crawls to a halt. He feels an urge to lift something to his mouth, a pen or vape, who can say. Instead he finds a lit cigar in his hands, which he puffs heartily. His chest pumps larger as the nicotine brings him to ease. He spits on the theater floor before looking around in confusion, his button up falls to the floor in tatters as his hair buzzes into a fade. Kevin looks out to the crowd and tosses a beer bottle at his bro, “Bruhhh, took ya long enough huhuh!”

Away from the chaos Ryan, always a consummate actor, remains on stage as his fellow drama kids flee the stage. Leaving him just close enough to Kevin to be caught in whatever this otherworldly pandemonium is. He is promptly possessed with an immutable desire to be close with Kevin. Nothing is or could be more important to him. Looking at the man’s cock bulging above everyone a hole appears within him that only Kevin can fill. The walls of the stage around them begin to stain as by all appearances the school rapidly reshapes into Kevin’s frat house. Everyone present is far too hammered to question the existential nightmares occurring. Though at this point the bros would likely celebrate their no longer being in the drama school anyway.

Ending a toast to his bros Kevin hops off the table and paws his package, pushing through the jostling crew of meatheads to get to Ryan as he stands to the side, biting his lip. Kevin was a less than two dimensional character but at the center of the story was his love (Read: Lust) for Ryan. The two promptly kiss, as scripted. Before long at all, it devolves into the messy drunken make out that it must. With no consideration to the debauchery around them the pair fall to the floor and begin grasping at each other's bodies. Kev goes to pull at Ryan’s pants and he gasps with longing, “Kev! Can we take this inside?”

Kev’s eyes burn with an animalistic desire as the world apart from Ryan disappears. The crew of men is nothing to him as he wrenches his love up with one hand and they run upstairs to a bedroom that never existed. The script means nothing to them any more as they simply become the flat characters that they were written to be. Kevin can’t help but hump the air, standing in the doorway and waiting for Ryan to be ready for sex. Each second an eternity as his senses are overwhelmed by a desire to lose himself with Ryan.

The party beneath them continues to rage without end. The performance majors find themselves anew in a frenzy of unconflicted bliss. Their once proud director hops up on a keg as he will never get a chance to learn a lesson that there are more important things than a show going on. Not too far from the cheers and jeers of a keg stand nor from the sounds of Kev chomping at the bit for release, another man wakes up to find himself changed.

Scratchy beard on his face Jake cannot quite remember his own name. His rubs his tight chest and indulges in the delight of each flexed muscle, on the floor lies a broken cast that seems far too small for his tree trunk of a leg. He feels his cock straining down his pant leg as his mind jumps to an image of Ryan. He palms his bulge as it springs even larger in his sweatpants. Hearing a commotion outside he looks to find his frat house, his expression darkening as he wanders out of his room barefoot. Pushing past anyone who stands in his way he starts towards his home. Sure to be surprised as he finds another version of himself with his love. Though he is even more sure to find immeasurable delight therein.

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yassifiedfrog · 2 months

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Always A Price To Pay

Two will they won’t they baristas find promising careers as models. Though who’s to say what they may part with on the path to beauty, (their boss is to say).

Devil’s bargains shenanigans- One’s head should certainly be on straight during contract negations, hope you enjoy! -Occam

Devin awoke to a strange text from one of his coworkers: “Yo dude, u in today?” It’s not that odd for Noah to text him of course, they’ve been close since they met and always teetering on the edge of a coffee shop romance. However it’s almost a point of pride how polished he usually carries himself, even over text. Devin takes note and replies in the affirmative and immediately receives another message “Tight tight tight, c u soon >;)”

The barista rolls back over to sleep for an extra hour or so before getting ready to head in. Only briefly does he toss and turn wondering why Noah is up so early himself. Falling back to rest, something on the edge of his awareness keeps his thoughts focussed on his friend. Memories of the two opening the coffee shop together flitter through his dreamscape, the pair of them struggling to carry bags of used grounds, half-flirting while making drinks. Devin squirms in his sleep as an unconscious desire begins to rise.

The strangeness of his messages fade as lust begins to corrupt the dream. Across the bar Devin watches his friend pour a latte before looking directly at him and winking. He feels himself burn with blush as Noah drops the cup and pitcher, both vanishing before they clatter to the floor. Devin sees something different about the barista as he approaches, something unplaceable. His eyes dart from his hair as it bounces differently, or maybe he’s been hitting the gym? His blush grows as he sees his friend flex, blonde hair growing thicker on his arms.

Devin backs into a wall as Noah continues approaching in the dream. Looking up he watches as Noah’s caring brown eyes glow and shift, shards brightening to stark blue as the kindness rapidly fades from them. He squares up against Devin, one arm above his shoulder as he pushes him into the wall. Devin smells powerful cologne over the coffee as Noah leans down to whisper in his ear, his stubbled face scratching his cheek. Devin shivers and is overcome as Noah opens his mouth and utters an inhuman beep beep beep, as in reality his alarm goes off for work.

Finding a sticky mess in his sheets, Devin sighs before tossing them in his laundry. Desperately trying to not think about having a wet dream about his coworker he takes a cold shower and grabs his apron to head out the door. One brisk walk later he’s unlocking the entrance to the chain coffee shop, doing a breathing exercise to calm his nerves as he hears the rumbling of an expensive car pulling into the parking lot.

Preparing to do the common ‘we open at 8’ spiel he sees a archetypal cornfed quarterback hop out with an apron and a smirk on his face. Pausing to squint at the man, assuming he’s filling in from another store or something, Devin is taken aback as an impossible sense of deja vu runs through him. He’s never seen the man before, but something deep inside him swears he knows this man.

The driver looks down at Devin with a look uncomfortably familiar, one that brings back the heart of a body pushing him against a wall and the raspy breaths of a man about to whisper in his ear. He hides a rapidly growing erection with his apron as the man pushes past him to enter the shop, “Mornin’ dude hope ya don’t mind I got a pump in before work!”

No words come from Devin’s gaping mouth as his scent is unmistakably the same, cologne overpowering the everpresent coffee scent, while only just masking the man’s BO. It’s almost hypnotizing to the barista as he mindlessly enters and locks the door behind him. He stares at the nametag the man left on a table, plain as day reading ‘Noah’. Despite his balls’ best efforts he finds himself beginning to question the reality of it all. Noah pulls up a chair and sits in it backwards, watching as his coworker begins to ready espresso machines, while his mind tries to unravel the mystery, or itself.

Memories of the good times he had with his friend, his would be more than friend, begin to corrupt as he struggles to separate fact from fiction. Trying to imagine the kind eyes he swore his friend has, Devin can only find the cold cocky stare of the man before him. Hours of time showing him the ropes only to watch him struggle with working equipment every shift. Staring at his shirt pulling on his biceps as he worked. Watching his adam’s apple bob as he flirted with customers. Devin struggles to keep his mind on track as his eyes shift to Noah just sitting in the lobby.

He nervously speaks up, putting a good deal of effort to keep a steady tone as his mind launches to memories of Noah standing over him. “Hey uh, are you gonna help open Noah?” The man saunters over to the counter and leans on the bar, giving Devin puppy dog eyes and pouting. Devin tries to avoid looking at his face, but can’t help tracing Noah’s tight jawline. He smirks before just hopping over the counter, landing hard and sidling behind Devin. His new memories suggest this is nothing new, but Devin immediately tenses up as Noah puts his hands on his shoulders and pulls him against his powerful boody.

Devin gulps as he is completely overwhelmed, by the heat of his friend's body, the smell of his sweat under the cologne, the hands on his shoulders. He’s half convinced this is still some bizarre dream as Noah turns him around with no effort at all. Suddenly Noah makes it clear this is no fantasy as he flat out says, “Actually, I just came in to quit dude.” Devin shakes his head a few times and stutters as he thinks, “Wh- why did you? What!?” Noah waves his hands quickly to interrupt, “Wait wait wait bro, I wanted to see if you’d quit with me.”

He has little awareness at all about Noah’s changes but somehow this is immediately a bridge too far to cross. He can’t just quit his job. Devin opens his mouth to express the doubt and discomfort racing through his mind, before he can get a word out he is met with a business card. Faster than he could see, Devin holds the small rectangle in front of his mouth ajar. “Thought you’d be too pussy to bite bro, but trust me. Call him and you won’t need to worry about a thing anymore.”

Still uncomfortable, Devin grabs the card to read it, Lucien Faust Modelling Agency. Thoughts racing through his head immediately come to a stop as this is all so stupid that it must be a dream. His blush shifts to one of embarrassment as Noah must just be doing some cruel prank on him. “If you’re quitting then just go Noah. You don’t need to be an asshole about it.” As if he had never considered that Devin would reject this, the confidence disappears from Noah as his mind struggles to find away to explain himself.

Devin pushes away and starts to head to the back of house, “I’ve got work to do.” Before making his escape, Noah grabs his hand with a strength Devin knows in his heart that his friend has never had. There’s a clear look of despair on his friend’s face that sends pangs of regret through Devin, forcing him to already begin second guessing. He pulls and Noah lets go of his hand, turning to leave, “Just think about it okay dude?” Devin watches him quickly leave, confidence filling him as soon as he steps out of the store. The business card catches his eye and he swiftly pockets it before shaking off any illusions that he could possibly follow his friend’s lead.

The day turns out to be quite a long one. Customers are rude, mishaps abound, the business card burns like an ember in his pocket. Though any time he sees his own reflection he’s brought back to reality and knows that there is no path forward as a model. Still, what is the end game of working at this coffee shop right? Noah’s words repeat in his mind and they ring truer with every repetition, for all his bizarre behavior his friend meant what he said. Fingering the sharp edges of the card in his pocket Devin decides. Fuck it, what’s the worst that could happen by reaching out.

As soon as his shift ends Devin dials the agency’s phone number, before the first ring it’s picked up. “Devin. I am so happy to hear from you. Our mutual friend Noah has nothing but good things to say of you.” He was expecting a secretary but the voice on the other line drips with such authority that this must be Lucien himself. Certainly not used to speaking with someone of such high status, Devin awaits his next words as a bug awaits an approaching shadow overhead. “How would you care to stop by the agency? I believe we have a number of things to discuss. Nothing untoward I promise you, hahah!”

Lucien’s laugh sends a shiver down his spine, something instinctual urges Devin hang up with the haste one would flee from a wolf. Unfortunately his reaction is far more akin to a deer who sees two bright lights. Lucien speaks up yet again with a suffocating confidence, “Good, good. I will see you in my office in ten. Don’t be late now, haha!” The line goes dead but the laugh continues to echo in Devin’s mind as he tries to understand what felt so off about that phone call.

His arms are crossed as he wanders out of the coffee shop without much thought at all to his movements. He continues to puzzle over the phone call, his mind gliding over the realization that he didn’t spit out a single word. His feet carry him down unfamiliar streets while he shifts from worrying of the sinister nature of the conversation and towards making an excellent impression on the man. What could he possibly want Devin to model anyway. He enters a building without thought, no mind paid to the path taken or to Noah's newly familiar luxury car in the lot as walks in a trance to the elevator.

Landing on the top floor of the building Devin sees a door at the far end of a long hallway creak open. He meanders towards it, walking down a deep red carpet past almost comically ominous decor. His steps are light and his body moves with an uncharacteristic ease towards the foreboding penthouse office. Usually walking by highrises like this one give him pause. To walk in such a building, let alone to meet with an executive at the top of one, would fill him with enough anxiety that he should not be able to put one foot in front of the other. As he enters the office he’s greeted by an impossibly attractive man sitting at a desk and the song of fear begins in his heart once more.

Too little too late as the door behind him blows shut, Lucien greets him, every word pounding in Devin’s mind as his pulse accelerates, “Do have a seat young Devin. I should like to have this over by lunch if you are happy to oblige.” There is an oppressive pause as Devin stands unmoving. Lucien smiles and Devin freezes at his sharp canines, hitherto hidden by blood red lips. After a blink Devin finds himself seated in a satin chair across from Lucien’s massive desk. The executive writes notes on a tablet, not looking up as he speaks, “I am not entirely aware of what all little Noah told you dear Devin, I am not omniscient after all hah! But it is my business of making dreams come true.” His eyes narrow as he looks up, “The only thing I need from you is a signature on the dotted line.”

Making eye contact with the man Devin’s fear washes away, replaced by an almost giddy desire to please him. Lucien slides the tablet in front of him and Devin half-heartedly scrolls through it, not even taking time to skim it. He races to the bottom of the page to sign as Lucien’s grin grows wide in anticipation, he leers over the barista like a snake waiting to strike.

Devin starts to sign the screen with a stylus, pixels alight red against the harsh white file. Every shadow in the room lengthens as Devin drops the stylus, he feels Lucien’s harsh laugh beating within his own head, staring at the man standing silently. He tastes ozone and iron and then he tastes nothing as sleep takes him all at once.

Devin awakens to a bright light bisected by a looming figure. His attention is then drawn to the shadow’s glowing eyes. Eyes that bring his mind back to the dream that he had this morning, that remind him of Lucien staring down at him. When his mouth opens to a smile of gleaming sharp teeth Devin’s senses return and he realizes he is still sitting in front of the man’s desk, the large windows now uncovered behind him, “Welcome to the team young Dev. Now what would you like to bring to the table?”

The memory of foolheartedly signing a contract with less caution than he picks his lunch rushes to the front of his mind as he blankly stares at Lucien. Still smiling he continues as if used to this, “Here at my agency we do things a little differently. Odd, I know, to sign a contract before negotiation but it is all a part of the process, you understand.” He could not possibly. Lucien knows this, “I shall keep it simple for you. What do you desire to be, and what would you give up to achieve such heights?” His smile grows wider as he sees Devin finally react.

What does he desire to be. Hundreds of faces and bodies flash through his mind. Celebrities and passers by, customers and enemies, a man he doesn’t recognize anymore and the one he knows as Noah. Before any number of these spill out of his mouth, his mind stays on Noah, he asks about his friend. “Did Noah do this too?” Lucien laughs loud enough for the lights to flicker, “Of course, you wouldn’t remember him before, your fragile little mind. Yes, I sculpted him into quite the sports model did I not? Imagine what I can sculpt from your clay.”

Devin shivers as Lucien speaks, his words feel like claws on his soft skin, the horror of his situation finally hits him. He is unable to dwell on it as his mind continues to sift through countless bodies he’s found attractive before his mind finds one and stops. “There!” Lucien’s eyes blaze as Devin’s thoughts are frozen outside of his own control. “Now what would you give to be him?” Every question coming from the man is flat and declarative, as if nothing within Devin is beyond reach and asking is but a formality.

Lucien purses his lips performatively, playing out being deep in thought, “You went to university correct? Often that is quite the easy pill to swallow, or cough up as it were haha! Who needs a sharpened wit when beauty is around the corner?” Devin starts to nod gormlessly and Lucien seizes, “Good enough.” He claps and Devin falls.

He had been holding out that this was all a dream. There is no way this could be happening in reality, he was going to wake up to an actual text from Noah any minute now. But now he’s falling, and people wake up from dreams when they fall. Worse than that, just like when he first saw Noah at work, he feels something in his mind changing. Something treasured is being drained from him. His mind races to find whatever is fading, whatever is corrupting, desperately trying to prevent whatever is being stolen from him, before he’s able to latch onto anything, he finds something else. His arms sure are sore all of a sudden.

Flailing through the air his stomach clenches as his thin torso bloats with fat that is just as quickly dissolved into tight muscle. Abs punch out of his stomach and his chest burns with pecs that he has never worked before suddenly grace him, his nipples expand into two hard points as they widen. His skin sears at points as if he were being branded, his eyes can barely stay open long enough to see tattoos he has apparently always had stain through his skin. Memories of long hours after class perfecting arguments for his university's debate team rapidly fade as his tongue grows clumsy in his mouth.

Continuing his descent, Devin contorts his back as everything lengthens out, a model must be tall after all. He cannot scream as his mouth remains shit and his jaw sharpens, jutting out and darkening with perfectly manicured stubble. His pale skin shades sunkissed and glistens dewy, as it always. Class schedules and thesis papers fall from his mind as he begins to pull his expanding arms in to feel his changing body.

His hair flops longer on his head, darkening and finding itself quite naturally wind tossed and ever-tousled. His brows thicken and frame his dark eyes. What little body hair he had falls out as a jungle grows in his pits and a deliberately trimmed treasure trail rises from his tight underwear. He begins to even forget the sense of loss as four years of his life disappear from his mind. He opens his eyes to see his long legs and imagines them posing at a photoshoot, avant garde clothes draped on his shoulders, tight on his thin sculpted waist. Devin smiles as he realizes he needn’t imagine after all. Thanks to his kind owne- boss he, indeed,lives a dream come true.

He blinks and is no longer falling, simply sitting in the same chair on which he signed away, uh, something. He has a smile on his face that never strays too far, somehow both coy and cocky. He checks his phone and finds his wallpaper is a shirtless photo of himself, forcing his half-shy smile into a beyond proud smirk before he looks up to see Lucien and bolts to sit up, finding a higher vantage point than before. Still, Lucien leers over him, inspecting his work.

He has Devin do a number of poses, polishing his body as needed. The new model hears a tear as his ass grows plumper and his bulge grows larger, “Sex sells my dear.” Devin would tilt his head but something in his core suggests he not to question the man even at this less than significant juncture. “Yes yes young Devin. This will do quite well.” There’s a pause as he at least pretends to contemplate before continuing with a decidedly darker tone, “Unless there is something further you would like to edit?”

His time at the coffee shop feels somehow removed, as if a massive link has been erased in the chain of his life. Feeling the power surging through his lithe muscle though he rests not long at all on that blank space. Instead his mind drifts to the only connection that remains taut to that time, the man who gave him this opportunity, Noah. “Apologies for the question Sir, will I work with Noah now?” His voice is deep and raspy, affectations deliberately implanted to make him appealing and unassuming despite his impossible charm. Still, Lucien rolls his eyes at the question, “Ugh, you boys. Perfect bodies are never enough are they, you must have each other.”

Devin’s eyes dart across the man, desperately wanting to speak out of turn. Lucien waves a hand in resignation, “You would care not to see him as he is now anyway my little plaything. He gave himself up to allow you entry, you see.” Lucien’s smile shifts sinister and playful as he continues, “It is all very romantic is it not. Foolish beyond imagination, but romantic, as you all like it.”

Devin feels heartstrings pull in his chest and in the moment, still adjusting to his new statuesque form, nothing feels more real than a need to help Noah. Lucien reads him like a book and clicks his tongue. “I quite wanted you to be something special now Devin, think about that before you continue.” Resolve continues to course through his veins and Lucien sighs, “Well we are both but pawns to the fine print, if you must be together I will ask more than your paltry education. The second price tag is always quite a bit steeper.”

Devin’s mind flashes back to how carefree Noah was stepping out after giving him the card, the despair on his face as Devin denied his offer to join. Perhaps if he hadn’t pushed his friend away Noah wouldn’t have lost so much of himself. This guilt carries him forward as he determines to do what he can to help Noah.

“Predictable. Well, for a good deal of your essence, the root of who you are that is, I could return some of his to him. Ugh, I do hate returns you know.” Lucien glowers, though he knows no matter the trade that he will be on top. As he always is.

Without a thought spared Devin acquiesces and Lucien freezes him in place. “I did not need another sports model Devin, but you have tied my hands with your greedy little wish.” He performs a half hearted hand motion and Devin just feels heavy.

His hands lurch closer to the floor as his arms begin to bloat. Veins surge and pulse with each heartbeat as every already defined muscle on the man begins to bulge larger.

Pecs that were once just a hint of masculinity surge out hard from his chest. Becoming unmissable and sure to highlight the curves on whatever tacky tank top line he’s now sure to display. “It took your whole sophomore year to get that thin waist and now you’ve blown it to have the figure of a brick.”

Devin’s eyes display the fullness of his loss as Lucien speaks. He’s pretty sure that was a joke, he doesn’t get it but he laughs anyway. His sculpted jaw widens as the neck beneath it thickens. With each heaving guffaw veins pulse, burning traps behind as it grows as thick as his head. His voice deepens and grows dull enough to ensure no one will ever expect anything even vaguely intelligent to spill from his mouth.

His biceps fill with power and he is overwhelmed with the desire to flex them. He stares forward and does exactly that. Veins bulge out as his muscles grow quicker than his elastic skin can follow.

He feels his forearms push against each other as they fill with strength before hair begins to taint his porcelain skin. Following the spread of his power, itchiness rises all over his exposed skin as body hair becomes not plentiful but ever-present. An inconvenience, just like the stubble inching longer on his face. God does it turn him on though.

Devin continues to pose as if he were in front of a mirror. Biceps raised as they peak higher, exposing the stubble of armpit hair already growing back from being shaved this morning. He does a chest suction and his chest grows wider, muscle bulging outward in every direction. He loses himself in his vanity. In short order he rubs his hands across every new muscle and delights in the thrum of power surging through him.

Lucien smirks as he watches the man obsessively feel up his own body. The package barely held back in his underwear bobs as it grows larger with every heartbeat. Devin grimaces at the restraint before just ripping the briefs off, eyes glazing over as he falls back and his priorities become clear.

Lucien clears his throat and Devin stands at an even firmer attention than his cock. “Well a deal is a deal. I would shake on it but I imagine your palms are quite sweaty hm?” Lucien is well aware that his model is only half listening, but that is as good as it gets when one has half a mind. Satiated for now Lucien hopes the next models found have more complex desires, “Worry not your pretty little head, Noah is on his way up here now. It is as good a time as any to reacquaint yourselves.” With that the executive is simply no longer there, though Devin’s attention is already elsewhere.

It takes the bulk of his mind to keep himself on top of deadlines for shoots. Lucien’s clients are quite deliberate about their demands and the models must always conform. Still, his balls pulse as he realizes for now, the only pressing demands are of his own will.

The time before walking into this room is a blurry fog, but that doesn’t bother him as his body burns with desire. Noah is approaching and with him the promise of the only release he will know. Every muscle in his being throbs as he hears the elevator doors open to reveal his other half.

The two men bolt down the hallway towards each other, dashing down red carpet and discarding whatever dignities remain as they give themselves to their other. That is, whatever little remains as their minds corrupt and dull. Both relishing in the other’s body on the top floor of Lucien’s Agency. Rough hands scratching at thick muscle. Pulling on hair that always bounces back to its pristine default. Taking time to indulge in passion that they’ve wanted longer than they could ever understand.

Somewhere else the man smiles as he has not only two more happy customers, but two incredibly malleable models. His attention leaves the two men to their own devices as he sets out. Their dicks may as well be dowsing rods to each other as they find what their new bodies can do. Lucien need not be there to feel the pleasure they discover. Instead he returns to the hunt, ever looking for more desires to fill and more tolls to exact.

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yassifiedfrog · 2 months

Text

The Bro Cap

Biology was my favorite class this semester. Not only did I find science to be interesting, but I also shared the class with one of the hottest guys in the school: Aaron Moore. He was the star of the school’s baseball team as a pitcher and he was the talk of the school. Girls were always swooning over him for how tall and handsome and athletic he was. He was good at every sport; football, basketball, and so on, but in school, he played baseball. He was a major source of envy for a lot of guys. A lot of guys wished they could be him. I, however, wanted to be with him. Fortunately, I sit behind him in class, so I get the best view of him, despite being from behind. At least it meant he wouldn’t see me watching him.

I often found myself getting distracted by him. Even if I couldn’t see his face, I could see his broad shoulders, which were built like mountains, as well as his arms which were shaped like mounds of muscle. His tall stature sometimes made it hard to look at the board, not that it was the main place my eyes were looking at in the first place. His favorite baseball hat, adorned with our school team’s logo on it, was worn backwards like most of the jocks at the school. He didn’t come off like the rest of them though. His relaxed vibe made him easy to talk to and he could be quite funny compared to the rest of the meathead jocks. He got along with everyone really well, making him very well-liked. Although he was far from the smartest guy in the class, I could tell that he tried. It was no wonder why he was so popular.

Today, I was daydreaming when I was disrupted by our teacher, Mr. Martin. I felt him stare directly at me, almost as if he knew I wasn’t paying attention. It was like he could read my every thought, and honestly, if that were true, that’d be extremely humiliating. The last thing I needed was for my crush on Aaron to be exposed to the rest of the class. Knowing how embarrassing he could be, I wouldn’t put it past him. He asked me a question, and I thankfully already knew the answer, as I awakened from my daydream.

“Correct! I wasn’t sure if you were paying attention or not,” he chuckled. “You always look like you’re off in your own little world. But you still manage to do well. You gotta tell the rest of your class your secret.” Looks like someone has caught on to my tendencies. Mr. Martin was a middle-aged guy, probably in his 30s. He looked good for his age, and was a pretty relaxed and carefree teacher.

The class went by as usual, and eventually we were dismissed. All of the other students dispersed, but I needed to ask our professor a question about the homework. He helped clarify things for me thankfully. I was about to leave, but then he pointed out something on the ground.

“Hey Aiden, doesn’t Aaron sit in front of you? That’s his hat, right?” he asked.

“Yeah, I always see him wear it.” It was unusual for him to have left it here by accident.

“Do you know if you can bring it to him today? If not, I can keep it here until next class.”

“I’ll hold onto it until I see him next. I have a feeling I’ll run into him later.” I don’t know why I said that. We don’t have any other classes together and we certainly aren’t close enough to be friends, even if I wished we were. I’m also not on the baseball team. Either way, my professor smiled for helping him out.

Regardless, I grabbed Aaron’s hat, but instead of chasing after him, I realized I really needed to go to the bathroom. He was probably long gone anyways. After I went, I noticed that I was still holding onto his hat. I went to observe it and I noticed that it smelled a little like him, with a mix of sweat from wearing it all day and whatever shampoo he used. I knew I shouldn’t, but I felt a sudden urge to put Aaron’s hat on. Despite the fact that I would feel really embarrassed if someone saw me wearing it, I knew I would likely never get this opportunity again. I was completely alone, so it’s not like there’s anything wrong with it. It wasn’t just any hat, it was Aaron’s. It’s not like he had lice or anything. What’s the worst that could happen?

And so I put it on, wearing it backwards like he would. Strangely, for a few seconds, I felt as though time had completely stopped. The leaky sink faucet paused its rhythmic dripping. The stomping of feet in the hallway deafened. My watch skipped a tick. But as time seemed to return to its natural course, I was able to see how I looked. I had to admit, I looked really good in it. I wouldn’t call myself an unattractive guy, but Aaron was way out of my league. Despite that, a smirk appeared on my face. A wave of confidence washed over me, almost like a little bit of Aaron had rubbed off on me. Suddenly, I didn’t really feel like taking it off anymore. I wasn’t too worried about what would happen if Aaron or one of his friends saw me wearing it.

After admiring myself in the mirror for a few minutes, I realized that I was late to my next class, algebra. I had no idea I had spent so much time checking myself out. I must’ve lost track of time. As I walked to my seat, I felt like all eyes were on me for some reason. I never used to make much of an impression on most people. I was quiet and had only a couple friends. Normally, I would’ve felt a little anxious with so many people staring at me, but I didn’t really give a shit now.

“Late as always, aren’t we Aiden?” the teacher remarked. Very funny. I always showed up on time. I sat down in my seat, but it didn’t feel right. My body squeezed tight into the desk. I felt like I was sitting in a chair meant for a middle schooler. Weird. Something weird is going on, but I can’t figure out what it is.

The class was just as weird because I felt like my classmates were a little more talkative. I couldn’t focus during class due to being distracted by someone whispering. I still felt a couple of their eyes on me. I looked over and made brief eye contact with one of the girls on the far side of the room. She immediately looked away and giggled towards one of her friends. Her cheeks turned a deep crimson, the color of passion. She was cute, but definitely out of my league. I wasn’t straight either way, so I didn’t care if she was into me.

Normally, I was good at math, even if I didn’t like it, but I felt myself struggling to answer questions today. Something must be wrong. The room felt hotter than usual, and I felt myself sweat a little and my body started to ache. I noticed that I smelled a little like Aaron’s cologne. I’ve recognized his scent from sitting behind him, but for that smell to linger and for me to smell like him is really weird.

Class was dismissed, and this was usually when I went to lunch. I received a text from one of my friends, Bryan, from half an hour earlier.

Bryan: Hey, me and the guys are getting food. Wanna come with?

Normally, we always got lunch at the same time. But for some reason, I didn’t really want to? That’s weird for me. I felt my fingers move on my own as they typed out a message.

Me: nah bro i dont feel like it mayb sum other time dude

I didn’t text like that normally. Nor did I turn down my friends. Is it the…Before I could finish my thought, I was interrupted by the booming sound of two guys further down the hall, with one of them calling my name. They were two jocks. I recognized that they were both friends with Aaron because they hung out together a lot. What did they want? I didn’t really get along well with either of them or the rest of their kind. Hopefully they didn’t think I was a pervert for wearing Aaron’s hat and beat me up.

“Sup bro, we were just about to get some food before hitting the gym. Wanna come with?” the other jock asked me. Judging from his tone, he seemed surprisingly friendly with me.

Were they serious? Did these jocks actually think I was one of them? I would never get an opportunity to hang out with them again, so I agreed. Part of me felt guilty for ditching my nerdy friends to hang out with the jocks, but I knew they were cool guys. My perspective on these two big jocks changed as I walked with them. For some reason, I felt a strong sense of camaraderie with them, almost like I’ve known them for a long time. I’m not sure why I was so intimidated by them before. They were really chill.

I saw another one of my friends as I walked with my new friends. I waved to him, but he barely seemed to notice me. Was he mad at me for skipping lunch with them or did he seriously not recognize me since I was hanging out with the jocks? It almost felt like he didn’t know me at all.

I pulled out my phone to see what was up with him, until I realized that Bryan had finally responded to me.

Bryan: My bad. Thought you were someone else. He must’ve given me the wrong number.

Was this some kind of prank? He obviously knew my number. Of course he knows who I am. Whatever, I don’t care what a nerd like him thinks. I put my phone away and resumed chatting with my jock friends. You know, my real friends. I noticed as I walked with them that they didn’t look as big and menacing as they seemed. Either that or maybe I hit my growth spurt recently.

We went and got food, with the jocks making sure I got enough protein. I swear I almost never eat this much. The jocks must eat a lot to stay in shape, I thought to myself. But did they seriously want me to go to the gym with them? I had class soon. But these guys were cool and I didn’t want to disappoint my bros. I figured I could miss a day and go lift with them. As long as it doesn’t turn into a habit.

I realized as we stepped into the gym that I had never worked out before nor had I stepped into an actual gym. I was worried about coming across as weak and humiliating myself in front of them. I changed into some clothes that I'm not really sure when I bought, a tank top and gym shorts. To my surprise, I simply followed the motions of my bros and I was able to work out with them just fine. I noticed that I was able to keep up with their workouts, and I surprised myself with how much I could lift. It shouldn’t have been possible to lift as much as they did but maybe they were just going easy on me because they knew I was a beginner. By the time we finished, I was just in time for my last class. But just before I parted ways with my new friends, one of them said something that caught me off guard.

“Later, Moore.”

Must’ve been a slip of the tongue. There was no way in hell they mistook me for Aaron. At least it gave me a mental reminder to give Aaron his hat back next time I see him. Although…his hat is so nice that I’m a little tempted to keep it for myself. He could always just get another one, right? I just don’t want him to see me wearing it though, so I’ll only do it when he’s not around.

In class, everyone was still staring at me as if I went to school in my underwear. Maybe there was something weird about me, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I did smell a little bit since I came from my workout, but I don’t think it was that. I shrugged it off. They can stare all they want for all I care. I felt incredibly sore after my workout, and my arms looked unnaturally swollen. If I had to be honest, I almost felt as big as the two jocks I worked out with. But in such a short amount of time? With no prior lifting experience? That was impossible.

I found myself completely zoned out and indifferent to class today. All I wanted to do was leave and uh…What was it that I had going on later? I pondered that thought throughout the entire class period. Eventually, we were dismissed and I was free to leave. I was walking towards the dorms until I ran into, guess who? Aaron Moore.

“Hey bro, you still coming to practice?” he asked.

“Practice?”

“Yeah, baseball practice, you big dummy! You know, you’re always so forgetful, dude. Good thing I always was the smarter one, bro.”

“Yeah, you’re right, bro. My bad.” I’m not sure which statement I was agreeing with. But as I looked at him, I realized something. He was wearing his hat! But then how was I wearing his hat if he was wearing it? “I thought you lost your hat. How are you wearing it?”

“I was wearing my hat all day, dude. One day you decided to copy me and wear your hat to school like I do. But honestly, I think you rock it better than I do, so keep it up. You’ll impress the ladies.” But I was gay. And I’ve only had this hat for a day. If it wasn’t his, then how was it actually mine? I was overwhelmed and full of questions after everything that had happened today, from my growth spurt, to me hanging out with the jocks, to my old friends barely knowing who I am, but I didn’t seem to have the brain power at the moment to seek the answers to them.

As we walked, I kept chatting with Aaron as if it was natural, as if we always knew each other. Something felt off, but I couldn’t figure it out. Was it because we were going to practice? I’ve never played baseball in my life. Nah, that can’t be right. I feel like I’ve swung a bat before… We went into the locker room to change. I looked in the mirror and paused for a second.

My reflection wasn’t there. Someone else’s was. Someone much stronger and much taller than me. That wasn’t me. It was Aaron Moore.

No, except it wasn’t an exact match. There was enough different about the guy in front of me to know that it wasn’t Aaron. This figure was a little stronger than him, and still stood probably a little over 6 feet tall. I walked closer. “Aaron” walked closer. I moved my hand to feel my face. So did “Aaron”. A dull, confused look appeared on his face. Had I really become him? But Aaron was over on the other end of the room changing. Then who am I? Was I like this since I put the hat on earlier? I reached into my wallet and pulled out my ID.

Aiden Moore...That’s not my last name. That’s…Aaron’s? Normally I wouldn’t have minded taking his last name, but we definitely WEREN’T married. As far as I knew, Aaron was as straight as an arrow.

Date of Birth: 08/17/2003…If I recall, that’s Aaron’s birthday. I knew my birthday, and it was in January. Don’t tell me…Are we…?

I compared the face in the ID to the one in the mirror. It wasn’t an illusion, and it wasn’t a dream. It was like I was his twin! Aaron was an only child though and I only had sisters. At this point, I was so confused and overwhelmed. Panic was the only emotion I could feel as I felt like I was going through an identity crisis. I realized that this all started when I wore his hat. I reached to grab it off of my head…until I felt a hand touch my shoulder. My bro…I mean Aaron.

“Admiring yourself in the mirror, bro? Yeah, you’re a pretty handsome dude just like me. I think it runs in the blood, you know. You like that, right?” He placed his other hand on my head, pushing the hat tighter on my head. I nodded. I proceeded to flex, as I became self-absorbed with my own reflection. I always thought rather highly of myself, especially about my body. At this point, I couldn’t comprehend the paradox of me somehow being his own non-existent twin brother.

“You know, not every guy is lucky enough to have a cool brother like I do, let alone a twin. The two of us can play ball together, work out together, and even get all the chicks we want together. This is all you ever wanted, right?” He wasn’t necessarily wrong, but I wanted to be “with” Aaron, not be him. Whoever granted me this wish got it all wrong. But as I listened to him, I started to realize that maybe it wasn’t my wish to begin with.

“Yeah bro. This shit’s the life, dude.” I noticed Aaron’s face light up as I said that. The way I talked sounded like it came out of the mouth of some dudebro. I noticed his irresistible smirk that was always on his face when he was in a good mood. As I kept admiring myself in the mirror, I felt my mind slow…down...like it was on autopilot…

“That’s right…Just let it happen… I know it’s been a while, so it’s okay if you don’t remember, but you know that one trophy we won a couple years back? During senior year?”

“Fuck yeah, bro. I remember.” But I’ve never played baseball before…But…I have right? I know I have.

“You know you were the reason we won, right? One lucky hit in the bottom of the ninth, and you practically won us the game. I’ve never been more proud of you bro.” Aaron patted me on the back. I remembered that game fondly, even though I should have no recollection of it. That year, our baseball team was the best in the state. And I…led our team to a championship? As much as I tried to deny it in my head, the memories felt real. But why was he reminding me of this now?

“You didn’t do half bad yourself, bro.”

As Aaron and I kept chatting, the memories of being his twin brother kept flowing into my brain, as memories of my former life faded away. Turns out that I was the brother he never had. We were a pair. We complemented each other perfectly. I was actually the twin brother of the most popular guy in the school. I remember I thought he was hot…wait, what the fuck, bro? That’s gay as shit. And weird. This was my own twin we were talking about. Although I guess if I was a handsome stud, then he’d have to be too. After all, no girl can resist either one of us.

“So the hat is working…” Aaron whispered under his breath.

“What hat?”

“Nothing, bro! I was just saying how good your hat looks on you. Come on, let’s go.” I followed him, as my transformation was now complete.

From this day on, I was Aiden Moore, Aaron Moore’s twin brother. Except that’s who I was technically born as and that's who everyone already knew me as. Although we had a lot in common, I definitely felt more like a stereotypical jock. I was loud, cocky, and masculine, almost to the point of brutishness, compared to my brother who was a lot more laid-back and charismatic. Not that it was a bad thing, although most nerds and weaker men would disagree. But what me and Aaron did have in common was playing sports, working out, fucking chicks, and being the most popular guys in the school. I know I wanted to be closer to Aaron, but I never expected this. But at the same time, it felt good, almost pleasurable at times. I realized that in my new state, I could hardly last a day without an orgasm, whether it was in my grip or in some bitch’s pussy.

Two days later, I had biology again. I remembered I kinda struggled with this class. I sat behind my bro as usual. I was grateful for him since he always helped me with the homework. I noticed him talking to the professor in private when we got to class. When I asked him, he wouldn’t say. It wasn’t like him to keep secrets from me. We practically knew everything about each other after all. After class, I was called to stay after by Mr. Martin.

“Aiden Moore…Your brother told me to check up on you. Is everything alright? Did you need any guidance on the homework, too?”

“Never felt better, bro. I think I was just up too late partying the other day. And nah, I eventually figured it out, dude.” I conveniently hid the fact that I copied the answers off of some nerd.

“Good, good.” Mr. Martin smiled. “I won’t leave you too long. I know you two have your hands full with practice today. Hmmm…Still wearing that hat, I see. It suits you well, Aiden.” I saw him write something down in a notebook as I left. Mr. Martin was always cool. I felt like he understood me and my brother better than most teachers here. I couldn’t help but feel grateful for him, but for what? I quickly discarded that thought because it wasn’t important to me.

What was important to me was hitting the gym with my bros. I ditched class again, I don’t even remember what the class was anyways. Probably nothing important. As long as I pass and get to stay on the team, I couldn’t care less about how badly I do in school. I’m basically only here because I got some fancy scholarship.

At the gym, I always pushed myself to lift the heaviest weights. All of my bros were impressed with how much I could lift. Must run in the blood. After school, I went to practice with Aaron. We shared a room at the dorms, and on the weekends, we always went to the biggest parties our school had to offer. We always bragged to each other about what girls we slept with that night, almost like it was a competition. Man, this was the life. I never felt like I understood Aaron on a personal level until recently, but man, we were the luckiest pair of brothers in the school.

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yassifiedfrog · 3 months

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Sin of Pride

Derek Day, 35, had carved out a thriving career in marketing strategy, navigating the vibrant streets of New York City with a calculated finesse. After years of climbing the corporate ladder, he had secured a comfortable penthouse overlooking Central Park—a sanctuary amidst the urban hustle where Derek, alongside his husband, Alex, cherished morning walks with their dog.

Always affable, Derek effortlessly blended into any social setting with a warmth that drew people in. Yet, the youthful nights of endless parties in Manhattan's glittering nightlife had waned for him. What used to be a whirlwind of glamorous events and exclusive clubs now felt hollow and exhausting. Raised in a bustling suburb of Boston, Derek thrived in an environment steeped in academia and creativity. From a young age, he gravitated towards literature and history, finding solace in intellectual pursuits.

Switching into casual attire, Derek glanced at his reflection in the mirror, noting the slight wrinkles that marked his aging face. Instead of chasing after the next big party, his evenings were now filled with dinners with close friends—writers, musicians, and fellow intellectuals.

Tonight, longing to recapture a spark of his youth, Derek decided to visit one of his favorite gay bars in the Village. Though lately, he had often ended up at the piano bar down the street, singing showtunes and enjoying a sensible glass of wine, tonight was different. The pulsating rhythm of Pride weekend in New York City filled the air of the vibrant gay bar, an explosion of colors and bodies entwined in celebration. Rainbow flags draped from the ceiling fluttered in the chaotic whirl of flashing lights, while the beat of music throbbed through every corner of the crowded venue. A Kylie Minogue anthem continued to erupt from the speakers, igniting a wave of cheers and applause.

♪ "Can't get you out of my head Boy, your loving is all I think about" ♪ Half-naked men in glittering shorts spun around with abandon, their bodies glistening under the neon glow. Shirtless twinks danced, bears in leather harnesses clinked glasses of rainbow-colored cocktails with daddies. Jocks, leaning against the bar, flicked through their phones, lost in a series of Grindr messages.

In the dimly lit back, the stage lights flickered to life, casting an eerie red hue that contrasted starkly against the rainbow-splashed surroundings. Dressed in a gown of deepest crimson that cascaded like spilled blood, the mysterious drag queen known only as Lilith Lamentation stepped into the spotlight. Her face, painted with an otherworldly beauty, bore an enigmatic smile that hinted at ancient secrets and dark desires.

As Kylie blared over the speakers, Derek was reminded why he didn't frequent such places anymore. He contemplated heading home, but then the sound of a campy showtune and the allure of a mysterious drag queen's performance beckoned from the back room.

Ordering a crafted cocktail, Derek found himself drawn towards the music, his steps guided by curiosity and a yearning for something new and vibrant in his life.

As Lilith glided across the stage, her gaze pierced through the sea of faces, a silent promise of something beyond the ordinary. Her voice, when she spoke, carried a mesmerizing cadence that held the audience captive.

"I bring Lilith's gift of Virility and Strength," she hissed, her words laced with a chilling undertone that seemed to echo through the very foundations of the bar. "For you, and for all in your tiny, vile, incessant universe."

The crowd erupted into cheers, mistaking Lilith's words as just another campy performance. They clapped and whistled, caught up in the spell woven by her presence, unaware of the ancient power that pulsed beneath her theatrical veneer.

Meanwhile, Lilith continued her hypnotic dance, lip-syncing a campy showtune like she was Bette Midler in Hocus Pocus. Her movements were deliberate, each step a silent proclamation of dominance over the fleeting pleasures of the mortal realm.

And as the crowd grew, Lilith's smile widened, her eyes gleaming with the knowledge that tonight, she would claim her due from those who dared to indulge in the euphoria of the night.

As the final crescendo of the campy anthem filled the air, Lilith stood at the center of the stage, a mesmerizing figure amidst the pulsating lights and swirling colors of the gay bar. Her voice, dripping with allure and mystery, carried over the ecstatic crowd. "Come on you poor unfortunate soul, Go ahead! Make your choice!"

Derek, amidst the swirling sea of revelers, felt an inexplicable force guiding him forward. It was as though Lilith's eyes, dark and mesmerizing, had locked onto his with an unbreakable gaze. "And for my next trick, I need one brave volunteer," Lilith hissed, her words dripping with a seductive promise that seemed to pull Derek through the pulsating crowd against his own will.

"I volunteer!" Derek's voice erupted, a blend of exhilaration and uncertainty echoing in the cacophony of cheers and music. His steps were propelled towards the stage where Lilith stood, a figure bathed in the neon glow of the bar's lights, radiating an aura of mystery and power.

"So, sweetie, tell me, are you having a glorious Pride weekend?" Lilith's voice, smooth and intoxicating, resonated intimately as if she already knew the deepest secrets of Derek's heart.

"Oh, yeah. I rarely go out anymore, what with my loving husband and always being so busy at work," Derek blurted out, his words rushing forth in an attempt to bridge the enigmatic connection Lilith seemed to forge.

"How nice… But wouldn't you like to relax? Wouldn't you prefer a life that was easy?" Lilith's smile widened, a glint of mischief dancing in her eyes like shards of broken mirrors reflecting hidden desires.

"I mean, sure… But you know us gays, we're always busy," Derek replied, his voice tinged with a mix of hesitation and fascination under Lilith's penetrating stare.

"Don't worry, Derek. I'll soon fix that," Lilith's tone dropped to a whisper, her gaze delving into Derek's with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine. "Oh, Derek, I see such fire in you. Such anger. Why do you hate straight men so much?"

"I don't… They're just… They're just all so dumb. They act like they're so great with their big muscles, telling everyone what to do. They're so obnoxious and crude. Like, I tried to rush a frat in college and they wouldn't let me because I'm gay," Derek's words spilled out, each syllable laced with a mixture of bitterness and defiance.

"Oh, Derek. That's exactly what I wanted to hear," Lilith's voice carried a knowing edge, a subtle promise of something profound stirring beneath the surface. "Think back to all those cruel, obnoxious, crude straight men. Those muscles. Those frat boys. Because soon, you're going to be just like them."

A charged silence fell over the crowd, a moment pregnant with anticipation as Lilith's words hung in the air. Then, as if under Lilith's enchantment, the room erupted into cheers and applause. Wicked grins spread across the faces of twinks, bears, daddies, and every gay man present, reveling in the impending spectacle.

Derek stood on the stage, bathed in the kaleidoscope of lights—reds, greens, purples, and blues swirling around him in a mesmerizing dance. The disco ball above spun faster, casting fragmented reflections that mirrored the tumultuous whirl of emotions within him.

In that fleeting moment, Derek felt a profound shift, as if Lilith's gaze had unlocked a hidden part of himself. Her eyes held him captive, a silent promise of transformation that beckoned him into a realm where identities blurred and possibilities stretched beyond the horizon.

As the disco ball above them spun, casting fractured beams of light across the stage, Lilith's voice resonated through the air, weaving a dark incantation into the throbbing pulse of the club. "Embrace the bro within his soul's domain, Let toxic traits unleash and reign. From caring man to crude and bold, Shape his spirit, let the story unfold!"

The music momentarily ceased, creating a brief, eerie silence that hung like a veil over the crowd. In that pregnant pause, Derek felt a strange sensation creeping through his mind, a dull ache that intensified with each passing second. He brought his hands to his temples, trying to soothe the throbbing pain that seemed to radiate from within.

His thoughts, once clear and sharp, began to muddle. Concepts he had effortlessly grasped earlier in the evening now slipped through his fingers like sand. Memories of his husband, Alex, flickered in his mind, but they seemed distant, as if shrouded in a haze that dulled their clarity. His marketing expertise, honed over years of diligent work, felt like a distant echo fading into the background.

Meanwhile, unseen to Derek but palpable in the changing air around him, his face began to shift. His weak chin squared off, morphing into a strong, chiseled jawline reminiscent of a jock's confident smirk. His nose widened slightly, and his eyes, once warm and expressive, furrowed into a steely gaze that spoke of brash determination. Lips that were once unassuming plumped up subtly, while his teeth, previously ordinary, gleamed with an unnatural perfection and whiteness.

The transformation continued as Derek's face altered further, the lines and wrinkles that hinted at his age smoothing away as if erased by an invisible hand. His hair, styled in its usual manner, shifted gradually to a sharp fade, a haircut sported by the athletic jocks he had envied in his college days. Its color shifted subtly, mirroring the vibrant hues often seen among those who exuded confidence and swagger.

Before Derek's bewildered eyes, his reflection in a nearby mirror no longer resembled the man he knew. It was a face that carried an air of entitlement, of privilege.

And as the beats of the club music resumed their pulsating rhythm, Derek felt a strange sense of detachment from the life he had once known. His memories of Alex faded like wisps of smoke, his career achievements slipping away into the abyss of forgotten knowledge. He was no longer the man who had walked into the bar that evening; he had become something else entirely, a creation of Lilith's spell that now prowled the stage with a newfound confidence and arrogance.

As Lilith's dark magic continued to surge through Derek, a peculiar sensation gripped him—a feeling of time unraveling, pulling him backward through the years of his life. The dull ache in his head intensified, pulsing in rhythm with the shifting memories and sensations.

At 34, Derek felt a surge of youthful energy, memories of recent years slipping away like pages torn from a book. He blinked, finding himself at 30, the weight of responsibilities and adult concerns diminishing. At 26, the carefree spirit of his mid-twenties enveloped him, followed swiftly by the uncertainty and excitement of being 23. Then, at 21, he stood on the precipice of young adulthood, the world brimming with possibilities. He was just a junior in college, barely making it by.

Through the haze of confusion, Derek's awareness wavered. He chuckled dumbly, a laugh that echoed with a newfound simplicity. "Uh, what the fuck bro. What am I doing in front of all these people?" His voice, once articulate and refined, now carried a rawness, a rugged quality that matched his shifting persona.

"Oh, sweetie. You volunteered, don't worry. We have a few prizes for you. Care for a shot?" Lilith's voice, smooth as silk yet tinged with malice, cut through Derek's befuddled state.

"Fuck yeah, bro!" Derek's reply boomed with a deeper timbre, his adam's apple visibly protruding as his voice dropped several octaves. He eagerly accepted the shot offered by Lilith, the liquid burning down his throat like liquid fire.

As the fiery concoction coursed through him, Derek felt an intense heat spreading from within. His clothes, once neat and casual, began to morph and change. The basic flannel shirt and jeans dissolved into sweaty gym clothes—a ratty shirt clinging to his broadening chest and shorts that hugged his thickening thighs.

Derek's muscles ignited with a burning sensation, expanding and bulging with each passing second. His pecs swelled into thick mounds of manly flesh, straining against the confines of his shirt until it burst open, shredded into tattered nothingness. His abs popped into existence, chiseled and defined, forming a tight eight-pack that rippled with every breath.

His biceps ballooned, veins pulsing with newfound strength as they tore through the sleeves of his shirt. The muscles of his shoulders broadened, widening his frame until he felt like he could barely fit through the stage doors. His quads and legs, once slender, bulked up with dense muscle, his stance becoming more stable but heavier with each breath.

Standing on stage, Derek breathed heavily, his chest rising and falling with the effort of his transformed body. He flexed instinctively, feeling the power coursing through his veins, a sensation that was both exhilarating and terrifying.

Lillith smiles and nods, "Good, now imagine that you are one of those jocks you hated so much. You're at a party with all your friends, drinking and having a great time. Suddenly, you feel an intense pain in your chest. It's like someone is squeezing your heart with their bare hands. Think about what those idiot bros craved so much" "Beer, boobs and bros" Derek grunts to Lilith, between a dumb-as-nails laugh that seems to ring throughout the crowd.

Derek gasps as he imagines the feeling of his heart being crushed by invisible hands. The pain is unbearable and he can't breathe properly. He tries to scream but no sound comes out of his mouth. His vision starts to blur and everything around him starts spinning rapidly.

Derek's mind drifts back to one of his many drunken nights at the frat party, where he had been hitting on girls and trying to impress everyone with his macho behavior. He remembers how he had downed shot after shot, feeling invincible and ready to take on the world. But then something caught his eye - two guys making out in the corner of the room.

At first, Derek tried to ignore it; after all, it was just a couple of guys having some fun, right? But as they continued their public display of affection, Derek couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. His homophobia started to grow stronger with each passing moment. He began thinking about how disgusting it was for men to be so openly gay in public like that. It made him sick!

Suddenly filled with rage and an overwhelming sense of masculinity , Derek stumbled towards the edge of the stage, the two men who were now locked in a passionate embrace. "Quit it you fags!" he screamed at them while flexing his chest muscles for added effect.

Derek was becoming everything he hated in straight men, caricature of toxic masculinity unfolded with a hypnotic allure that captivated the crowd. His once relaxed demeanor shifted into a display of exaggerated machismo. He was becoming nothing more than a dumbass, toxic straight douchebag.

With newfound swagger, Derek squared his broad shoulders and flexed his muscles, each movement deliberate and exaggerated. His shirt strained against his bulging arms, a visual testament to the physical strength he now glorified. As he strutted across the stage, the crowd roared in approval, their cheers echoing off the rainbow-adorned walls.

Memories flooded Derek's mind, snapshots of wild frat parties where he had been the life of the raucous gatherings. He recalled the adrenaline rush of football games, the thunderous applause as he led his team to victory. The intense memory of being named captain surged through his thoughts, filling him with a sense of invincibility and entitlement.

Derek's cognitive faculties seemed to simplify. Basic math calculations became secondary to posturing and asserting his newfound persona as an alpha male.

As the memories of his past hookups and the frat flooded his mind, Derek's actions became larger than life. He leaned into the role of a swaggering jock, embodying stereotypes of entitlement and arrogance. The crowd, caught up in the spectacle, cheered louder with each display of machismo, celebrating Derek's transformation into a symbol of exaggerated masculinity.

His newfound demeanor allowed him to act like an unapologetic jerk without consequence. He would interrupt conversations with dismissive remarks, mockingly tease others, and even flirt shamelessly, often crossing boundaries with his comments. Despite his behavior, people didn't recoil; instead, they laughed and admired his audacity.

Derek's popularity seemed to soar regardless of his actions. People sought his attention and approval, drawn to his confident demeanor and the allure of his unfiltered personality. His ability to command attention made him the life of the party, the center of every conversation, and the subject of admiration among many.

One vivid memory from Derek's upbringing flashed through his mind—a childhood spent in opulence, shielded by wealthy parents who indulged his every whim. He recalled demanding the latest gadgets, designer clothes, and extravagant vacations without hesitation. His sense of entitlement grew with every fulfilled desire, shaping him into someone who took what he wanted without consideration for others.

Lilith observed him with a mix of amusement and calculation. She leaned in close, her voice cutting through the music, "Now Derek—hmmm, Derek is such a boring name. You're much more like a—Thad," she declared with a sly smile. "You drip wealth and arrogance with every breath you take."

At Lilith's words, something shifted. The name "Derek" seemed to dissolve into the air, overshadowed by the swaggering persona of Thad. The crowd, caught up in the spectacle, erupted into cheers and applause. They raised their glasses in a toast to Thad, celebrating his transformation into a symbol of audacious entitlement and unbridled privilege. You see it wasn't just Derek's mind-altering him, the crowd fueled his change into the most obnoxious, toxic straight bro. Someone they secretly wished they could fuck but could never have.

Thad, now fully embracing his new identity, flexed his muscles and strutted confidently through the bar. His face bore a smug grin, embodying the embodiment of self-assuredness and entitlement. In this moment, he was no longer Derek, the mild-mannered professional; he had become Thad, the embodiment of wealth, arrogance, and societal rebellion.

As the night wore on, Thad's presence loomed larger, overshadowing any trace of the person Derek once was. His actions and words became increasingly brazen, drawing admiration and laughter from the crowd. To them, Thad was a hero—an icon who defied norms and embraced a life without boundaries.

Lilith watched with satisfaction as Thad's persona continued to grow stronger throughout the night. She could see the change in him, how he was becoming more confident and assertive with each passing moment. It was as if a newfound power had awakened within him, one that allowed him to push past his previous limitations and embrace a life of unrestrained desire.

As Thad walked up to the busty blonde bimbo who had been eyeing him all night, Lilith couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement. She could see the lustful thoughts running through his mind as he imagined hooking up with her - it was almost palpable how hard his dick got at the thought of it. This was exactly what she wanted for him - unbridled passion and carnal desires that knew no bounds.

As Thad approached the blonde bimbo, he couldn't help but flex his massive biceps for her benefit. She giggled dumbly at his display of bravado before playfully slapping him on the chest. "Ooh, you're so strong!" she cooed in her ditzy voice.

Thad grinned smugly and ordered a round of shots for them both. They clinked glasses and downed their drinks in one go, their eyes meeting with an unspoken understanding that this was just the beginning of a night filled with debauchery and pleasure.

Without another word, Thad leaned in and started making out with the blonde bimbo passionately. His hands roamed freely over her body as he groped her ass cheeks and squeezed her ample breasts through her tight dress. She moaned into his mouth, encouraging him to take what he wanted from her without hesitation or shame.

As Thad whispers into the blonde bimbo's ear, "Hey, babe. Why don't we go back to my frat house. You'll love it. hahaha" The dumb blonde can only giggle uncontrollably. Her eyes light up with excitement as she nods her head eagerly, grabbing onto his arm possessively. They stumble out of the bar together, laughing and shouting over the loud music that still plays inside.

Outside, it's a cool summer night with a light breeze blowing through campus. The air is filled with the scent of summer and alcohol as they make their way back to Thad's frat house. As they approach the front door, it swings open revealing an absolute mess: beer cans littered everywhere; pizza boxes stacked high on top of each other; empty bottles strewn about like confetti; couches covered in stains from God knows what substance… It truly is a disgusting sight to behold!

Undeterred by their surroundings or lack of hygiene, Thad leads his new conquest upstairs to one of many bedrooms filled with similarly disheveled furniture and filthier sheets than you could imagine possible. Once inside this makeshift love nest he begins undressing her slowly while she helps him remove his clothes faster than he can manage alone due to how drunk he was at this point.

Their hookup is nothing short of passionate yet sloppy – kisses are sloppily exchanged while hands roam freely across each other’s bodies without any regard for personal space or boundaries. They move from making out on top of unmade bedsheets stained beyond recognition towards grinding against one another before finally collapsing onto said bed in an exhausted heap post-coital bliss… Or maybe just exhaustion? Who knows?

All that matters now to Thad is the fact that he's the king of his domain – the big man on campus. He loves being able to strut around with an air of superiority, knowing that everyone looks up to him and wants to be like him. His life as an entitled fratbro is everything he could have ever wanted: endless parties filled with booze, drugs, and beautiful women; never-ending streams of money from parents who don't want their precious little boy getting into trouble; and most importantly, respect from his peers for being one of the biggest, douchiest guys around.

Thad takes pride in his physical strength too – working out religiously every day so he can flex those muscles whenever possible. He enjoys showing off by picking up girls or throwing back shots like they were nothing more than water bottles at a high school football game. And let's not forget about all those ridiculous hazing rituals designed specifically for new pledges - nothing makes Thad feel more powerful than watching some poor freshman suffer through them while everyone else laughs. Thad was hot shit and he knew it.

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yassifiedfrog · 3 months

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Immersive Mode™

Finally, Friday was here. It had been ages since they had a whole weekend dedicated to nothing but video games. "They" in that context were Kevin and Nick, best friends since pre-school and video game enthusiasts. Of course, having adult lives, with jobs and chores and - at least in the case of Kevin - a girlfriend left preciously little time for gaming, which was a shame, really. Their interests in games were diverse and they played pretty much everything - from mindless loot-shooters to farming sims, so they never felt like they had enough time.

This weekend, however, was different. Kevin's girlfriend was on a work trip, and the boys had planned for a whole weekend of gaming, which Kevin was really looking forward to.

He stood in front of Nick's door, his backpack with everything he needed for the days over his shoulder, and was just about to ring the bell, when Nick opened the door and almost bumped into his friend.

"Oh, hey bro, good to see you!"

They hugged - shortly - and Nick continued, as he passed Kevin:

"Listen, I'm gonna buy some energy really quick. Make yourself at home, I'll be back in ten minutes tops."

Of course, Kevin knew this wouldn't hold true. Nick was notoriously bad with times, so he didn't expect him to be back in the next half hour. But Kevin was in a very good mood, so he didn't mind waiting. He had finished putting down his stuff quickly and looked around Nick's apartment.

Unlike Kevin, Nick didn't have a girlfriend - no, a partner, Kevin corrected himself. Even though Nick had never explicitly *said* so, Kevin was reasonably sure he batted for the other team. It didn't matter to Kevin at all, really. If anything, he used to think that this left more girls for the rest of them, although that hardly mattered anymore to Kevin, at least not since he had a girlfriend.

He sighed. Yeah, his girlfriend. After this weekend of gaming, he was going to propose to her, and he wanted to ask Nick to be his best man, at a good opportunity. However, the truth was that he wasn't really all too happy with it. He knew that it was *expected* of him to propose, but... he just wasn't sure about his now-girlfriend-and-future-wife. He didn't really... connect. Nick and he were lifelong friends, understood each other without words and Kevin trusted Nick with all his life. The same couldn't be said about his future wife. If he had the choice, he'd much rather date Nick, but since Kevin wasn't gay, that was a mood point to think about.

He looked around Nick's untidy bachelor apartment until his eyes found the gaming rig of his best friend. It was running - of course - and showed the main menu of a game Kevin recognized as a new life sim that was pretty hyped in social media. It was a lot like the sams, but without the greedy multi-billion-dollar company behind it.

Intrigued, Kevin sat down in front of the screen. He was sure Nick wouldn't mind if he took a look.

The "continue" button was grayed out, which was a clear sign that Nick had started the game just for the first time, so, Kevin clicked "New Game". As he expected, an empty character creator loaded with a big prominent "+" button, probably to add a new person to the virtual household. Kevin clicked it, but instead of the character customization, a message box appeared.

"Do you want to try the new immersive mode™?"

That sounded fun. He knew that Nick had a surround system, so he guessed it was probably some kind of ambient sound design thing.

When he clicked "Yes", another message box appeared.

"How long do you want the immersive mode™ to last?"

Well, he was here all weekend so... Kevin set the timer to 48 hours.

"Bonus! For enabling immersive mode™ for 48 hours, you may select one trait to keep after."

Cool, thought Kevin. So, the game had a kind of progression system, nice touch.

He clicked "Ok" again, and was just about to start creating a character, when suddenly, the screen became exceedingly bright. Kevin had to close his eyes and felt really weird all of a sudden, a kind of pulling sensation all over his body. A few seconds later, Kevin was not there anymore, and the chair was empty.

Twenty minutes later, Nick came back from his shopping trip and entered his apartment.

"Yo, Kev! I brought enough energy for the whole weekend!"

He dropped his groceries on the kitchen table, and put the cans in the fridge, before he went to the living room.

"Hey, man, where are you?"

But there was no one. Weird. Well, he probably forgot something at home and would come back in a bit. Nick shrugged mentally and sat down in his gaming chair, cracking open a can of energy drink before looking at the screen. Had he already started the character creator? Apparently.

On the screen, standing in a featureless gray environment was an avatar. It did look kind of familiar, if he was being honest. Although it was clearly a comic-style 3D-model, it reminded him a lot of his friend Kevin. Of course, usually a shirt obscured the view of Kevin's slight belly, but the character on the screen was completely nude, safe for a pair of underwear.

The fact the avatar kind of looked like his friend didn't seem as out of the ordinary as one could think. After all, Nick had a tiny crush on his best friend - nothing too serious, but he still found him somewhat attractive - and often modelled his in-game avatars after Kevin. He just hoped that Kevin - the real Kevin - wasn't offended by him leaving the character creator open like that.

Well, since he was waiting for his friend to return anyway, he might as well finish the character creation. Nick indulged himself in the various sliders and started to change the avatars appearance. Even though a Kevin-lookalike was a good start, there were several improvements to make. He could be taller, for example. Nick found the slider and watched as the avatar morphed and grew taller.

On the other side of the screen, Kevin was unable to do anything. He was fully aware and stared at Nick's face through the screen as if it was a window, but he couldn't move. His body - his cartoony, but otherwise pretty accurate body - just stood there in his underwear and breathed. From time to time, there was a stretching idle animation, but that was about it. However, as Nick dragged the height slider, his body immediately reacted. Kevin felt a sensation of vertigo, as he grew taller in a matter of seconds. Next, Nick edited his body type. All of a sudden, his belly disappeared into a hard and flat stomach, with abdominal muscles becoming visible. Over all, his musculature expanded and became more defined, until he was fitter than Kevin ever thought he'd be. The next changes were in his face, and Kevin could only feel his facial features shifting as Nick resculpted the head to be a bit more chiseled and masculine. He was still recognizable as Kevin - but an idealized and handsome version of him.

"Wow, that's what you'd look like if you went to the gym, Kev. Damn." Nick said to himself as he clicked next. After the physical character creation, he was able to select character traits for the avatar. They were already prefilled with what looked to be pretty much Kevin's profile, which was weird. Nick was reasonably sure he hadn't been to this screen yet, and yet, the interests and settings looked a lot like they belonged to Kevin.

Well, there was no reason to change anything there, right? No, actually, one thing he should change. He looked through the traits until he found the slider he was looking for, which read 85% heterosexual right now. Yeah, no. This was his fantasy game, right? He quickly slid the slider over to 100% homosexual. There, that was more like it.

Kevin couldn't see what Nick was adjusting and felt strange for a moment. He knew something was different - but he didn't know what. Internally, he was panicking a bit. He still couldn't move and felt trapped - both inside the screen as well as within his own body. As strange as it sounded, he had somehow been sucked into the video game, and he didn't know how he could tell Nick, or how to escape this.

Nick, on the other side, decided he didn't need any more changes. He briefly considered making a second character but decided against it. Perhaps he could play a nice little dating story with the character that he simply named "Kev".

Finally, Kevi - no, Kev, was able to move again. His avatar body had been dropped into a simple flat, with cartoony looking furniture. He turned his head left and right and bobbed a bit on the spot before deciding to check out the fridge. He walked over to the cheap looking device and opened the door. Inside, there was only a flat texture of what looked like food, but he still mechanically reached inside and pulled out... a bowl of cereal, that he began to eat standing. When he was finished, he put the bowl to the ground in front of him and walked over to the PC, starting up a game.

It was clear to Kev now that he wasn't really in control. At first, it had felt like he was the one in charge, but actually, his body still acted on its own, likely controlled by some kind of algorithm. He wondered what would happen if Nick...

There it was. All of a sudden, Kev stopped playing and stood up, driven by a mighty force that controlled all of his movements. He walked over to the small bathroom and mechanically disrobed. He could basically feel the eyes of Nick on him, who had just ordered him to take a shower, watching every movement until he was completely nude.

Unlike the sams, this game sure was anatomically correct. Nick had not bothered to adjust his privates, so they looked pretty normal to him, but he was acutely aware that Nick was watching every movement he did and every swing of his cock. Still, he couldn't do anything about it as he entered the shower and felt simulated water on his skin.

He was still in the middle of his shower, when suddenly the doorbell rang. Immediately, he felt compelled to exit the shower and dress quickly, before running to the door. In front of him stood a delivery man, handing him a newspaper that Kev took automatically and put on the floor right where he was standing. The delivery guy was already back on his way to his car, but Kev ran after him. He didn't have much of a choice.

He chatted a bit with the guy and felt really connected to him after only a few minutes of talk. He laughed at his jokes and complimented his work. What was even more surprising was that he started to really find that guy... cute. He was smaller than him, now, and had a sort of twink-ish flair. Kev could feel his virtual cock stirring, which confused the hell out of him. He was straight, wasn't he?

No, of course. Nick must have changed that in the character creator. And now, he was... trying to flirt with the delivery guy.

Against his will, he started making slippery comments in the conversation and watched as the other man was flustered and blushed. Kev couldn't help but smile seductively before he leaned into a kiss.

It sure felt weird being controlled like that, but the kiss was nice, nevertheless. However, much to the dismay of his visible virtual erection, after they broke the kiss, the delivery man suddenly turned around and left. At least he had magically obtained his phone number, Kev thought as he re-entered his house.

Outside the screen, Nick couldn't help but be a bit aroused. This was clearly an adult game, and when he saw that the Kev-avatar on-screen had a boner, he felt himself chub up a bit as well. Kevin was still not there, so he could try to bring this a bit further along. He steered the avatar to the wardrobe and selected "Edit Kev" in the popup menu, after which the now familiar character creator opened. Nick was eager to see how far he could get and started adjusting sliders again. First, the muscle. In front of Nick's hungry eyes, Kev inflated from a very fit man to a true bodybuilder. His arms were stacked with muscle, and his shoulders appeared so wide they would probably clip through the environment when he was going through a door. Next was the face. Nick changed the brown color to a darker shade, fitting to handsome dark eyes. He adjusted the facial structure until the Kev on the screen had a square jaw, like an action hero, and a fitting dominant smirk. Perfect.

He zoomed out again and noticed a slider for body hair. He didn't quite put it to maximum, but far enough so that Kev's chest was covered with a layer of manly fuzz. Nick always liked hairy men, so this was just perfect. He was just about to save the appearance when he realized there was one more important setting. Yep, junk size. He quickly dragged the slider to maximum and watched as an obscene bulge grew in the avatars underwear. Nick couldn't wait to send the dude showering again so he could ogle the hefty tool.

Yeah, that was it. Nick was fondling his own bulge by now, as he clicked save. However, as he was just about to unbutton his jeans, he stopped himself. Kevin could be back any minute and he didn't want to catch him rubbing one out. Heavy hearted, he saved the game and clicked exit, but was surprised by a popup that opened.

"User 'Kev' is still in immersive mode™ for 47 hours and 22 minutes. Do you want to reproject?"

What did that mean? Reproject? Confused, Nick clicked "Yes" and almost jumped out of his chair when suddenly, the screen grew really bright and a large and manly figure materialized right in front of him, just as hot as he had just designed him, but not cartoony anymore at all. It was Kev. And, as it dawned on Nick, it was Kevin. Somehow, Kevin must have been sucked into the game and he... changed him and played with him.

Realization hit Nick hard. Kevin, in his muscular Kev form just stood there, in front of the PC and breathed heavily, but did not move, as if he was waiting for something.

"Woah, this is crazy. Fuck. Me." Nick exclaimed in confusion, and realized what he just said, when a dominant grin grew on Kev's face and he began walking towards Nick, the overly large cock already throbbing inside the underwear. Nick gulped but didn't object, although he knew that he wouldn't be able to walk properly for days to come.

It was Sunday evening when the timer hit zero. The weekend had not been filled with a single video game, but neither Kev nor Nick didn't get much sleep, either. Kev's body was a machine, in more ways than one, and the whole flat stank from the stench of sex and sweat. Finally, the screen grew bright, and a large dialog box awaited Kev.

"Congratulations, you have completed 48 hours of immersive mode™. Please select a trait to keep."

Finally, Kev was able to control his own body again. After the initial horror of something else controlling him, he had quickly found a liking to the feeling, and had the most erotic weekend of his life, as he had to watch his body fuck Nick senseless on every piece of furniture in the apartment. He wasn't even mad. It had showed him what was missing from his life, and that was, aside from the body of a Greek god with an untypically large cock, Nick. So, it wasn't a hard choice to make. Kev walked over and scrolled down until he found what he was looking for and clicked on "Orientation".

As he morphed back into his old body, he smiled at Nick, who was watching with uncertainty and fear how his friend would react to his direction of his body. Then, with a husky voice, he said:

"We should do that again next weekend, babe. I still have a lot of traits I want to keep, and I have the feeling, I'll have a lot more timing for fucking your cute little ass in the future."

I hope you enjoyed this little video game tf as much as I did! I know I certainly wouldn't mind stumbling upon a game with immersive mode™. There are some additional images of Kev in my Tip Jar.

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yassifiedfrog · 3 months

Text

No Such Thing As A Free Ride

One would do well to exercise caution when hitchhiking, don't want to end up going somewhere untoward. Hitchhiker to Bro muscle growth and personality change!

In other news I've been reblogging my favorite stories at my side blog if that's interesting to anyone! Feel free to send feedback or questions there if you have them!

Occam's Revue

As ever, Enjoy! -Occam

Jace always says that he bikes to work for environmental reasons, but in reality it’s just to save some cash. Cars are expensive after all and if he ever needs a ride somewhere it’s never too hard for him to get one, usually without even needing to use an app or anything. Case in point, not five minutes after losing a tire on his bike and beginning the dauntless task of signaling to cars he already has a bite. It’s not his first time hitchhiking, usually he gets a ride sooner than he expects but this was almost bizarrely fast.

Pulling up just in front of Jace, coming to a stop in the shoulder, is a massive truck. He grimaces at the bumper stickers for a local infamously bro-y gym but decides to not turn his nose up and tosses his bike in the empty truck bed. Beggars should not look at gift horses and what not he grumbles to himself as he makes for the side door. Before getting in he takes note of the certainly illegal tint on the windows, the only thing visible through the blackness is a massive figure in the driver’s seat. He starts to reconsider before seeing a glint where the man’s eyes must be as a voice commands, “Get in.” He is overcome with darkness as the world goes black.

Jace feels his body buckled in and in motion before any of his other senses return. He hears gusts of wind soaring through a window, deciding he must be in the truck apparently speeding down the road. His eyes open blearily and he looks around the cabin, confirming his bike is in the back before inspecting the driver. Jace blushes as he sees a massive shirtless man with his eyes on the road. He watches as the veins in his arm bulge, tendons straining with every small movement of the wheel. Jace takes in every powerful line of the man before he squints, the edges of his memory slowly returning, what exactly just happened. He opens his mouth to speak but only a creaky groan comes from his dry throat.

This is enough to draw the driver’s attention, “Woah bro you up now? You totally conked out as soon as ya hopped in. Didn’t even have a chance to introduce myself, ‘S Chase!” He sends up the automatic windows before sticking out a hand for Jace to shake. He hesitates seeing a hand that would certainly more than encompass the whole of his own, grimacing as he concludes it surely can’t be clean. Nevertheless he meets it with a gulp and chokes out a, “Th- thanks for the ride Chase, I’m Jace.” Chase guffaws at their rhyming names as he continues speeding down the highway.

Jace then wonders where they’re driving to, Jace surely wouldn’t buckle up without knowing where they were going? But surely they didn't work something out if they’ve only just introduced themselves? He’s pretty sure they’re going in the direction of his home as he tries to dig deep in his memory, trying to understand what led him to get in this car. Before recollection can begin outright, with the windows now rolled up, Jace is absolutely overwhelmed as an oppressive body odor begins to fill the cabin of the truck. Any coherent thought in his mind vacates as he is assaulted by what must be this man’s abhorrent musk. He rachets his arm up to cover his nose and Chase turns and tilts his head, “Everything alright bro?”

Jace scowls as he looks back at the driver, it seems almost supernatural how horrid it suddenly smells in the car. He scans Chase’s figure looking for obvious sweat stains before balking as he sees the man completely dry despite each ongoing breath feeling like it is more musk than air. Putting two and two together Chase sniffs the air before guffawing once more, “Yooo bro, huhuh, you’re absolutely rank.” The idea is so ludicrous he doesn’t even think to consider it as a possibility. His arm rockets away from his nose as he opens his mouth to insult the meathead. He doesn’t get a chance to do so, feeling the telltale yet unfamiliar sensation of his arm sliding against the sweat still pouring out his armpits, his mind goes absolutely blank and his face burns crimson in embarrassment.

Chase, never scared of a little bro stink, pats him on the scrawny shoulder and laughs loudly, deliberately grating Jace might think were he able to form thoughts over the blood rushing through his head. “Must’ve been outside a while huh bro.” Jace’s eye twitches as the jock calling him bro cuts through his paralysis, he goes to sniff his pits to see just how bad the damage is, only to find it sickly alluring to him. He feels something catch in his chest, feeling almost giddy at getting off to his own pit stink. Deep laughter just as Chase has done a handful of times nearly escapes Jace, as instinctual and unconscious as a sneeze or yawn. He holds back hearing Chase ask a question, “Did you still wanna head home or get a session in at the gym first?”

Stupid question. Why would he ever want to go to the gym with some guy he doesn’t even really know, still he responds evasively, if not with kindness, given the inherent charity of the situation, “Oh! No thanks Chase, I’m, uh, a little tired and all.” Almost tackling on a I should shower to the end, the thought goes sour in his mind and he shakes it off. Chase purses his lips and shrugs, “Yeah that checks out ‘lil bro. You’d probably get in the way anyway with that long hair and all.”

Jace feels insulted before he is torn on whether or not to be taken aback by that, as stated he doesn’t want to go so he should just let it fly. But something in his chest suddenly wants to speak up at the challenge. And what was up with that weird hair thing, he can just tie it up obviously. Jace pulls down the passenger mirror to look at his reflection, to tidy his hair or perhaps put it up to show the dunce how he’s surely able to go with him. No action follows as his reflection appears, seeing the long garish hair trailing down his back he is hit with a feeling of disdain, almost revulsion, at his long gaudy bleached hair. He puts a good deal of effort in each day taking care of his long locs, but all of a sudden, wouldn’t it be better if they were just gone? He’d look way better if his hair was like Chase’s. God he almost just wants to rip it out.

His hands rocket to his scalp and he itches with determination, as if this basal instinct was the only thing that matters to him. His long hair flies around the car no mind paid to its aesthetics or care, with each lash out the strands begin to shrink back into his scalp. Losing its carefully colored bleach and cleanliness as it rapidly sucks in, leaving behind a greasy close-cut that would do well to be hidden under a hat. His head swings back into the seat rest and he stares again at his own reflection, pride or something even more primal rises in his chest as he sees this new masc haircut framing his pretty boy face. Chase’s hand goes to hit him in the back of the head, “Nice haircut bro! You look like a real man now huhuh! You growin’ out some stubble to huh?”

Jace rubs his hair a few seconds longer watching as a few hairs start to poke out of his chin. In no time at all he’s got a messy yet deliberately maintained beard on his chin. He checks his angles in the mirror and fights back against the instinct to smirk at his own reflection. God what’s gotten into him. As if reading his mind Chase quickly interjects to keep him focused on his reflection, “your arms are lookin’ pretty tight too dude. Bet they’d look better without those tattoos though.”

Rather than retorting about his arms being sticks and bones or defending the tattoos that he spent a good deal of time stressing and dreaming over. The first thought that surfaces as his eyes stare into the small mirror is ‘what tattoos?’ His eyes glaze over as he stares at himself, his mouth lulling ajar, just short of drool pooling out as his arms rise to flex. Blotches that must be tattoos on his upper arm rapidly fade as he strains to make muscle rise on his biceps. Definitely not though as he’d never get tats, and distract from his definition? Psh- Muscle pounds out of his arms as the thought occurs to him. Veins pulse as a defined almost baseball sized hunk of meat bulges on his arm, no larger than a baseball. Jace finally gives in and smirks at himself as he is overcome with pride looking at his own reflection. Fuck his arm looks so fucking jacked.

Seeing Jace flex at himself Chase tries his luck again, “Still don’t want to hit the gym with me bruh?” Jace clicks his tongue and replies, “I literally just said no didn’t I br-” only just stopping short of calling Chase bro. Massive arms he may have but he certainly doesn’t have the head of a dullard on his shoulders. His shoulders. Meekly looking at his reflection, he can't help but focus on his small shoulders and chest, aching for more power. Chase brightens as a rare thought bursts into his mind, “Ohhh I get it bro, you’ve already been today haven’t you?”

Jace’s eyes widen as the words pour over him, already been to the gym today? His chest vibrates as muscle begins to form where there was no weight at all to speak of. His nipples rub against his shirt as pecs begin to stretch his tank top tight before straining it to its limits. He grunts as he feels the traps he only just wished for push out of his bony back, the straps over his shoulders cutting into his now expanded shoulders, as the seat belt tightly hugs the chest still pushing out larger. It is not long at all before his shirt rips off altogether, Chase shouts praise for his bro but the gears begin to slow to a crawl in Jace’s mind as he feels the heat radiating off his impossibly growing body.

Like a computer overheating, every process in his mind slows as he struggles not to just shut down in the face of this, this. He cannot waste effort thinking about what horrors are happening to him. He just needs to, ugh stop it. He just- He just needs to flex, doesn't he? His body does so whether that’s what he wanted or not. Vibrating with power and strain as whatever resistance remains in his mind begins to trickle away as he feels a pressure grow in his crotch. Jace feels his thighs strain his pants and he kicks off his shoes before they burst entirely, revealing his incredibly holey socks and loosing his inhuman foot odor into the car. No chance to react as his core rapidly tightens, abs pounding and putting on weight as from head to toe he hardens and grows tight with power.

He burps loudly, tasting something unfamiliar and chalky. It is immediately followed up by a laugh rather than the shame that something inside him desperately fights to assign it. It is met with a side-eye from the driver before he too bursts out laughing, “Brooo I thought you said you didn’t wanna get pumped with me! Why’d you have pre then?” Jace blushes as he looks down at his crotch, seeing his cock pump larger than it ever has before, though he tilts his head in confusion as he doesn’t see a pre-stain, yet at least. Jace turns to look at Chase in sheepish confusion before the man responds, “Huhuh, pre-workout you doofus, stop thinking with your balls for a sec bruh, hah!”

Jace smiles to himself, pleased that Chase found him funny even if it was at his expense. Why would he be with his bro if he wasn’t going to the gym, he did drink pre-workout like his bro said? Jace feels himself start to get a headache as he strains to think, Chase’s eyes fill with pity before darkening with a hunger as he pats Jace on the back, “ay chill chill bro, you don’t need to come if you don’t want to.” Jace’s eyes burn and his nose flares as he grunts. He does want to go to the gym, now. He needs to more than anything. His mind is filled to bursting with the desire to spend time pumping iron with his bro at the gym. Chase smirks as he watches the fire leave his passenger’s eyes and they glaze over. Clearly no original thoughts will be flashing through his mind, perhaps no thoughts at all anymore.

He speaks up and Jace looks over like a dog to his owner, “While we’re on the way Jace, would you mind driving the rest of the way so I can wank one out real quick? You know how I get in there and I don’t want to lose it while I’m lifting bruh, huhuh.” Jace nods eagerly looking for any way to please his bro. He buckles up, tossing his leg over the wheel as Chase hops in the back. Images of his bro doing this before fill Jace's mind, alongside just as many of the two of them jacking off back there together. He shakes his head as he feels his cock start to stir in his pants, inching further down the leg of his shorts. He smirks as he thinks about their workout, and more importantly the fun they are to have together immediately after as he smells Chase’s odor start to mingle with his own. No thoughts are spared on the bike sitting in the back as it shifts to a dirty workout bag, why would he need a bike anyway when he never leaves his bro’s side.

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yassifiedfrog · 3 months

Text

The Bro Phone

As he stared at the phone, he figured a lone and worn down beach-side payphone like this one would be the perfect catalyst for an urban legend. Now, dared by a friend, he steps up to the modern relic to follow the simple process laid out in the local lore: pick up the phone and put the speaker to his ear.

Not even a dial tone. The stupid thing doesn't even work, but then—

Bro

Hold on. Did he really hear that? He presses the top of the phone tight against his ear to be absolutely sure, then, after a few more moments...

Bro

Hahaha. No way! He chuckles, perhaps a bit of a dumb chortle for his tastes but the whole thing seemed so novel he couldn't help it!

Bro

Huhuhuhuh... His chuckle was lower now, and duller. He was dumbfounded by the repeated word coming through the supposedly dead line.

Bro

His shirt unravels and falls as sand onto the sidewalk while his jeans slide up his calves, past his knees, crawling all most all the way up his thighs until the cut of the leg so short the garment barely surpasses the classifications of a brief. His bony chest and skinny legs are exposed to the open air and the thought brings a vacant grin to his face.

Bro

With the arm free from his ongoing one-note chat with the handset, e flexes his bicep, showing off his slender frame—a comic and futile gesture. But he needs to flex if he wants to be a

Bro

His biceps grow and the individual muscles of his upper arm begin to define themselves as they inflate.

Bro

Two pecs swell out of his formerly flat chest. His skin tone is adopting the perfect tan.

Bro

And below those pecs, abs carve their way down his torso, joined by a newly formed adonis belt.

Bro

His chicken legs pump up with muscle and lengthen giving him extra height—the bro phone makes sure bros don't skip leg day.

Bro

His jawline sharpens and stubble sprouts across his cheek. A mustache and a goatee form around his lips.

Bro

A final change. A bulge forms in his gym shorts. "Yooooooo. I fuckin love this!" He bellows.

And finally, he responds back to the repetitive voice in the payphone:

Bro

A click. A dial-tone. Another happy bro.

The awareness of his surroundings return and he remembers the friend who just witnessed the change. At that moment he looks up from the payphone and looks at you.

His new strength, agility, and speed left you with no chance. One second you're trying to escape and the next you feel the plastic pressed against your ear and a single word enters your mind.

Bro

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yassifiedfrog · 3 months

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Fatal shortcut

You know those days. The traffic is murder. You can't go another inch. Your destination is within reach, but it will take you three green lights and at least 20 minutes to cover the last 100 meters. Bloody hell! Honk the horn? It's no use… But now carefully pull onto the green lane, then cut across the high school parking lot and you're there. Why do you have your baby, the Mercedes G-Class, after all? I put on the turn signal, the car takes the sidewalk like nothing, carefully into the parking lot, look left and right and…… BANG! Damn it, the Mustang has clearly taken my right of way. This is guaranteed to take longer than 20 minutes… The two morons in the car look like they only have their heads to wear football helmets and pour beer through their mouths. The typical stereotypical football college jock bros. The day just keeps getting better…

"Yo, Chuck! Bro, did you see what that punk did there?" "Sure, Brad! He definitely took your right of way." I try to protest. But I'm way too caught off guard when the guy, who is obviously Chuck, stands up in front of me. God knows I'm not small. I'm a well-trained, muscular six foot two. But Chuck is easily ten centimetres and at least 20 kilograms taller than me… He grabs my balls. Damn it, I want to punch him, but Brad's already got me from behind. And Brad is barely smaller than Chuck. "There you go, you little faggot!" Chuck hisses at me. "Are you lying in wait for your wankers in the parking lot again? But this time is the last time!" He spits in my face and his grip on my balls tightens. Brad turns my head in his direction and spits again. Then the two of them get into their car, put it in reverse. And disappear.

I stand there a bit like an idiot. I'm far from being small or a faggot. And the last thing Chuck and Brad were to me were wank templates. I mean, I have nothing against gays… But thanks no, not for me… I'll take a look at the damage to the car. It's no big deal, the Mustang looked worse. I get back in the car, drive the last few meters into the underground car park, throw my keys to Stephen at reception and ask him to take the car to the garage. When I get off work later, I'd like to have it done. He puts his hand to his temple and says "Sir, aye, sir". Hehehe, I don't mind hierarchies being recognized.

"You little faggot"… I can't get that phrase out of my head. Shit, I'm really unfocused today. Maybe I just need a distraction. I go to the gym during my lunch break. Somehow I feel the need to look like anything but a faggot. I train bare-chested. Dressed only in compression shorts. Not really appreciated here. But I don't care today…

Shit, I'm not in top form here either… What I normally lift without any problems is all too heavy for me today. At least it's the cross trainer… Even though I'm not really the cardio type. When I get in the shower, my cock gets hard. Shit, that's embarrassing. But I also have to say that there's really only premium meat running around here today. And I'm one of them. Definitely one of them. Even the clean-shaven guy in front sees it that way. Clear body language. It doesn't take long before I'm leaning against the shower wall. And for the first time in my life I get fucked… And how! I can hear the angels singing. It feels so good as the stallion cums in my ass. To say goodbye, he gives me a kiss and a pat on the ass. And he says loudly to one of his buddies. "What a waste for such a submissive pig to have such a magnificent cock!"

The fuck was great, but apart from that I'm really not myself today. I feel like I've been missing the last year. For the life of me, I can't remember a lot of things that happened. It's like I wasn't there. I'm glad when Stephen calls me at around 5 p.m. to tell me that my car is back. I thank him, pack up my things and go down to reception. Stephen grins at me almost insolently and says that this service is an exception and that he now has something good on me. Completely confused, I say, "I'm fine, dude" and take my car keys. But there is no black G-Class in my parking lot. There's a baby blue Mercedes SLK, in good shape, freshly polished. But it must be 15 years old. I press the key. The doors open. What the fuck?

I just want to get home, this day is a disaster. As I park the embarrassing car and walk past the concierge, Michael calls after me, "Hey, Johnny boy, can you give Mrs. Smith from 2316 a lift?" I turn red. I walk back to the concierge desk. "So what, my name is Jonathan, but it's actually Mr. Hays to you. And why would I stop on the 23rd floor when I live on the 38th. Besides, I don't know Mrs. Smith." Michael grins at me with his one-million-dollar smile. "Rough day, John, uh, Mr. Hays? You might as well ask the old lady if her drain is still acting up. And before you try to break into the wrong apartment, I understand you live in 2304." He hands me a package. I drive up to the 23rd floor. I give her the package. She asks if I can plug in the new coffee machine straight away. "Of course, mom," I say. I ask if her drain is working again. She says it would be nice if I could have another look. I ask if she has any rubber gloves. She nods. I pull the dirt out of the blocked drain. She slips me a dollar. I go to 2304, open the door. And drop onto the bed. It's right next to the door. 2304 used to be the room for the lady's maid from apartment 2312. On the one hand, I feel very much at home. But on the other hand, I should be somewhere else. Somewhere with a view of Central Park. With more space. I pull out my cell phone and start working my way through Grindr. Maybe I just need someone to take me really hard again today

That was a night of really wild dreams. Really wild dreams. But obviously everything is fine now. I feel fit. My morning wood has never been better. I stroke my chest. Didn't it used to be hairy? I'm fantasizing again. What it would be like to be a real guy. Successful, at least 1.82 m. Well, I'm not going to grow any more. But maybe that's because of some Italian roots or something. That's where I got my hairy armpits and good beard growth. Shit, I'm still hard as nails. So routine like every morning: wank, jog, shower and then off to the office. I should be there at 07:00 so that the mail is distributed and the conference tables are all set before the Masters of the Universe arrive at the office. It's 07:05 when I walk in the door. Stephen grins and just says, "Subway?" "Don't ask, bro!" I reply, rolling my eyes. I didn't really need a bachelor's degree for my job. Jogging in the morning to stay in shape is more important. At the end of the day, I usually have 15K steps and 40 floors on my fitness tracker. And that's not usually the end of it. By the time I get home, Michael usually has a number of assistance activities for me. But hey, the address on the Upper Eastside sounds impressive, which I would never normally have been able to afford as a young professional. I'll even put up with the apartment on the first floor with a view of the backyard and the job as a temporary janitor.

Of course it's embarrassing to still live with my parents. But if I wanted to afford my own place, I'd probably have to move 200 miles away from Down Town. And I want to stay here. That's important to me. Also for financial reasons. The subway tickets alone would be too expensive if I had to travel further. I mean, the little bit of scholarship… And I don't earn much in the kitchen of the cafeteria. Stephen and Michael are good friends. If I didn't have them, I wouldn't make it. But they have good contacts. Stephen in the office, Michael at home. They always know someone who needs a massage with a happy ending. Or a greedy college boy face for a blowjob. The men are usually well-groomed. Too well-groomed, actually. That's why I always look forward to my part-time job as a trainer at the high school gym. If I'm lucky, I get to meet Brad and Chuck. I mean, they're not gay or anything. We never make eye contact. But I still get to blow them sometimes. Even though, of course, it's pathetic when you're a sophomore in college sucking high school seniors. But fuck, you won't find cheesier dicks with a more pronounced scent of musk and sweat anywhere!

Yo, have I even dropped my name yet? It's Janusz, 19 years young and repping as an exchange student up in the Big Apple. Just call me Jonny, keep it chill. Hailing straight outta a tiny village near Krakow, Poland, in case that detail tickles your pickle. Still wrapping my head around this English gig… But let me tell ya, my French game is on point, or so the bros claim. Thrilled to be out of the parental crib and living it up in this wild city. Dang, the possibilities here are endless! Senior year vibes, you know what I'm saying? And now that I joined the wrestling squad, it's like BOOM! More close body action in a week than I got in a year with the 'rents around! Truth bomb: I make most of my cash tagging along with my wingmen Brad and Chuck, the school heartthrobs. I'm like their trusty sidekick. It's lit! Hoping to snag an athletic scholarship next year, fingers crossed. Sure, these two golden boys ain't wrestlers (legends in the bedroom, though), but football studs. It'd be epic if we could keep the bromance alive in college. Purely platonic, of course. Or not… 🤷‍♂️

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yassifiedfrog · 3 months

Text

Big Man on Campus

(a trade with @alphajocklover)

Trent had been going to college for almost 4 years at this point, he was 21 and steadily approaching his 22nd birthday and approaching his graduation even faster. He had spent most of his time inside, working on his computer engineering degree or gaming. He didn't really care for the college party scene, he'd much rather stay in his tidy little single all weekend until monday classes.

but when it finally sank in how close it was to being over Trent couldn't help but have a little bit of regret, should he have hit the gym with the other guys on his floor? should he have joined the casual rowing team just for some fun and exercise? was computer science really what he wanted a degree in? Senior doubt and regret flooded his mind, but there was still an upside. 4 months were left, 4 months he'd make the most of.

Trent went on the college forums looking for something to do, he thought about a few of the options but found two that he really liked. The first was a dungeons and dragons club the second was listen as an exercise club but it also seemed to be a project for two sport science students.

Transformation Experiment Ground: "Our names are Brody and Clark, we are looking for young males on campus who are out of shape looking to get in shape and help with our experiment. Come form a sense of community, get the body you desire and help us with our research!" Monday came and classes went. Normally Trent would go home and smash out a few ours gaming but it was time for his clubs to start. First he had the sport experiment thing, the only issue was he only had a few minutes to get to the dnd club across campus, but he wasn't sure how sweaty he'd get or if he'd need a shower. He just had to hope there was a shower at the campus gym.

Trent checked his phone, he thought he was going to the campus gym but the address was for a room in the athlete scholarship dorms. Trent walked passed the gym and into the building next to it. The halls had photos of previous college athletes plastered up between the doors.

Finally he arrived, right on time, room 223. Trent raised his hand to knock when the door suddenly swung open. Standing before him was a jacked guy with spiked blonde hair in a black tank and grey sweat pants and standing next to him just slightly down the hall was an equally jacked dude with shaggy brown hair in the same outfit.

"hey bro what's up I'm Brody and just over there is Clark"

Brody stuck out his hand but when Trent went to shake it he realised Brody was waiting for a fist bump not a hand shake, Trent awkwardly closed up his hand and bumped Brody's fist. Clark let out a douchey laugh that echoed out the door.

"Come in man, come in"

"You are, the only one comin" Clark sighed

"oh, was I the only one who signed up?"

Trent started to get anxious, guys who looked like this normally bullied him and now he was going to be on his own with them for an hour. Trent made his way into the room, following Brody and Clark.

The athlete dorms were so much bigger than the other rooms he'd been in. There was a large lounge space with a small kitchen, a door to a private bathroom and two bedrooms either side of the lounge.

In the corner of the lounge there was a small fold out chair and table. On the table were 5 green vials and what looked to be an oculus rift stripped down to its basic components.

"so ummm, where do we start with like a workout plan?"

"nah dude, I mean I can totally write you one but this is a bit more of a series of practice experiments" Brody said as he walked over to the small table

"get him hooked up man, I'm gonna grab my laptop with the video"

Trent followed Brody over to the small fold out chair

"its nothing too fancy but our class mates got the actual sports lab, apparently our experiment is pseudo-science"

"what exactly are you guys studying?"

"we are trying to see if active suggestion and nutrients redirection can get people to actively pursue fitness"

"oh damn, I just thought this was like, a workout class" Trent sat down as Brody began setting up the make shift visor. "if you don't mind me asking, what are you guys majoring in?"

"well I'm getting a double major in bio-chemistry and psychology"

"and I'm getting a double major in computer engineering and software development" Clark said as he walked back in carrying an open laptop

Trent's jaw almost dropped to the floor, he'd come here thinking he was going to be made to workout by two dumb jocks who were just going to scribble times on a napkin, but instead he's participating in a proper experiment designed by two people probably leagues smarter than him.

"okay man its real easy, we are gonna hook up an image display for a few minutes and you'll take a shot of this" Clark said as he handed over one of the small green vials.

"errrr, is it safe?"

Clark burst out laughing and Brody couldn't help but crack a smile.

"yeah man, its just a diet supplement you can get offline, fda approved, basically it tells your muscles they want to hold water and your fat cells to burn"

Trent downed the green liquid as Clark flicked the visor down over his eyes. There was a short beep sound before images began to flash on the visor. Flashes of guys working out, of dumbbells and the words you are a jock and you love working out and muscle.

Trent couldn't help it, he burst out laughing.

"I'm sorry guys this is so corny" He laughed.

The other two began to chuckle as well as the room filled with laughter.

"Look dude, Its the closest thing I could find on YouTube, its about the suggestions" Clark laughed

Suddenly the lights in the room began to flicker and all 3 globes in the lounge burnt out at once.

"what the-" Brody and Clark said in unison, but they were interrupted when sparks began to fly off the oculus. They rushed to try and take it off Trent but were shocked by the electricity. Sparks shout out of the power point in the wall and the two boys watched helplessly as Trent began to convulse in his seat.

Trent let out a painful and stalled out moan as the electricity travelled over the oculus and shocked his temples.

The room was dark was illuminated every few seconds by a shock or spark and the two boys could swear they could see something, something happening to Trent's body. A few more seconds passed before it finally stopped.

Brody and Clark stood there stunned, the sound of beeping could be heard from the kitchen as the oven entered safety mode, but a more concerning noise echoed in the boys ears. The sound of sizzling. Clark carefully walked over to the curtains and opened them, the room filling with light and showing them what had happened to Trent.

He sat in the chair with his head slumped forward, his chin hitting his chest as smoke was rising off the device on his head and all over his body. But what the two saw in the dark wasn't a trick of the light, Trent had indeed gotten bigger. His skinny fat body had expanded, he'd become more lean, his muscles more pronounced and most of the fat on his body had melted away.

Trent let out a moan as a string of drool fell from his mouth

"OH THANK FUCK HE'S ALIVE" Clark cried out with a sigh of relief.

The two rushed over and pulled the device off his head. Trent's eyes instantly responded as he looked up at the two of them.

"wooahh bro, huhu, that was intence" Trent mumbled

"yeah, thank god you're okay" said Brody.

Trent lifted his arm to the side and flexed his bicep and let out a dumb chuckle.

"errr, dude, real quick, what's your name?"

"Trent, duuuhuhuhu, you fuckin forgetful bro?"

Trent seemed okay but something was wrong, even with the short interaction the three of them had, Clark and Brody knew something had happened to him.

"hey Trent, what are you" Brody asked

Trent smirked as he lifted his other arm, completing a double bicep pose.

"a jock, duuuhuhuhu"

Trent stood up and effortlessly pushed passed the two as he started heading towards the door.

"well at least we know his motor functions weren't damaged"

Clark and Brody quickly followed him

"Dude, I really think you should go to the medical centre"

"Nah bro, I got dnd like NOW I gotta boost"

"wait Trent!" Clark yelled out "err, dnd thats an interesting hobbie for a jock, what else are you into"

Trent spun around on the spot with a big smirk on his face

"glad you asked dude, I love three things, gymmin, gamin, dndenin..dndin.....dndining....." Trent's voice trailed off as he tried to finish forming his catchy sentence

"and, what about your major? what are you studying?" Brody asked

"errr huhuhu, like, what's a major?" Trent said turning around to leave again

"FUCK DUDE I THINK WE ACTUALLY FRIED HIS BRAIN" Clark started to panic

"I mean, yeah, but it seems like his core interests and that jock hypno video have combined into a new personality, I dunno if we friend his brain more, re-wrote it"

"DUDE NOW IS NOT THE FUCKING TIME FOR YOUR INTEREST IN THE HUMAN BRAIN WE FUCKING CREATED GYM BRO FRANKENSTIEN"

Trent walked out the door into the crowded hallway. Students were all talking over the top of each other in front of their dorm rooms trying to work out what was going on. The two boys raced out to follow Trent.

"Trent dude wait!, errr, tell me about your dnd character" Brody called out desperately trying to stop him from leaving

Trent continued to power forward through the crowd, pushing through them like water with his new powerful body.

"well bro, I was gonna play some like, lil spell caster dude, but like, i dunno bro, numbers are hard, so like, I think I'm just gonna play, like, some sick fucking, roided out minotaur with a huge axe"

Brody was struggling to keep up with Trent, they both had already lost Clark to the sea of students. Brody grabbed onto the back of Trent's shirt which caused him to stop and turn around.

"woah lil dude, if you wanted some action all you had to do was ask, I got an 8 inch python with your na-"

"WHAT!, ha, oh, no dude, errr, that's" Brody's face turned bright red as he got flustered.

"no? damn too bad, you lil fuckin, science dudes are kinda cute"

Brody was stunned, some how all this muscle and new persona had also added a level of charm to Trent that dug right through to his core. But it was too late to grab his attention again. Trent had already pulled away and gone off out of Brody's sight...

One week had passed since the extreme power surge that had hit the Athlete Scholarship Dorms. There almost wasn't a single incident other than a few blown light bulbs and some damaged electronics....almost. The college had found out about Trent, no matter how hard Brody and Clark tried to hide it. However the two got off lucky. Both the College and the investigation into what happened deemed it was an accident that unfortunately resulted in what was being called "Personality Death". Trent had an entirely healthy body and brain with no signs of damages, but something had happen to completely re-write who and what he was.

The college couldn't let Trent graduate, he couldn't even remember what he had enrolled for, but the college still found a purpose for him. The hid the extreme and sudden body transformation from the investigation and gave Trent a 'job'. His official title was research assistant but he was too stupid for any serious work. His real job was to sit there and be injected with experimental steroids. Forced to grow like some roided out lab rat. Not that he cared, every time Trent put on even an ounce of muscle he'd spend hours in the mirror flexing. He was the biggest guy on campus.

[6 years later]

"okay babe, just hold still"

"aahhh, fuck, it feels so good when it goes in"

"you are so weird, I hate getting injections"

"well huhuhu, when you got a sexy lil piece of meat to do em, its a huge fuckin turn on dude"

Brody stood up from the kitchen table and began to clean up the injection kit, chuckling as he did it.

"Trent, that's so cheesy"

Trent stood up, the sound of wood scraping against the floor filled the room as he effortlessly and accidentally moved the entire dining table.

"will it make me look like Captain America huhuhu?"

"babe...seriously, I think we passed the Captain America stage about 150 pounds ago"

"then hit me with all 6 and make me the hulk" Trent pressed his body against Brody and the table.

Brody was no stranger to 300+ pounds pressing against him "I said no Trent" a slight grin cracked across Brody's face, 'besides, for all I know that one shot will add another 50 pounds, we gotta wait and see."

Trent stood there staring into Brody's eyes with an expression that could only be described as a computer failing to load a basic program 10 times in a row.

"Then jab me with all 6 and give me" Trent stopped to count on his fingers, "120 pounds of muscle" a large smirk crept across his face, proud he was able to do the math in his head.

Brody rolled his eyes and chuckled

"that'd be 300 pounds babe" Brody packed up the rest of the kit and left the kitchen.

Trent went to follow after him, he had hit the gym already today so no other thoughts existed in his mind other than getting attention for how big he was from Brody, but as he walked out the kitchen he caught a glimpse of himself and began flexing in the lounge room mirror, completely forgetting what he had been doing just 2 seconds again...

He was so proud of the roided lab rat he had become...

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yassifiedfrog · 4 months

Text

Emergency Model

Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

"Excuse me, what's your shoe size?"

Bewildered I looked around to find the man who asked the random question, like out of that old episode of Monty Python. Off to the side, almost behind me, was a thirty-ish man in polo shirt, jeans, and glasses with plastic rims that looked purposefully selected to make him look like a film director or architect. He looked unsure or stressed. "Eight, eight and a half. Who's asking?"

Immediately he brightened up. "Hello. I'm Ben Atkinson, " he said and extended his hand. "We're making a photo shoot of the supplemental collection of sporting clothes," he continued without waiting for me to shake it. "It's all for the online shop, so simple stuff. White background, a few poses." Tentatively I shook his hand. "Pretty fast rotation of models. Unfortunately one of them has called in sick. You have the right look, but more importantly the right build and size."

"Uhum," I answered, sensing where this was going. It was a Saturday morning, and I was on my way to meet up with some friends at Wayland's Deli.

"This is quite sudden, but we are on a tight deadline. If you're willing to model for us I'll give you twice the normal rate."

"Ok," I said, not waiting to hear what the normal rate was. I'm sure Stuart would not stop giving me grief about it for the rest of the year, but I would technically be a photo model which wouldn't be a negative in Sarah's eyes. Turned out that it would also be double my monthly earnings as well, so maybe I could shut Stuart up as well.

We entered the building, which apparently was an office space that had been taken over for the day for the shoot. There were racks of clothes everywhere, lots of people with iPads tracking what item was where, who should wear it, and in what conference room they should shoot it. It was bustling with activity. After some exchange of information with Ben, and signing papers, I was handed over to a conference room turned makeup and styling studio. Most of the furniture was stacked in one corner and the floor was covered by transparent plastic that had been rolled out. To one side was a table with lots of makeup tools and bottles and stuff I wouldn't know how to use, except maybe the hand mirror and the scissors, and even that I'm not confident with. A pair of strong LED lamps on stands lit a chair placed at the center of the plastic.

"I'm Julia, pleased to meet you. So you are the last one," said the stylist, carefully surveying me and in particular my face and hair. "We're short on time, so we have to work quickly. Are you ok with a buzz cut and tight fade?" Not what I would have chosen, but it's starting to get warm outside and it's only hair. I'd be back to my current length after the summer. "Sure."

She seated me in the chair and began the work with a corded trimmer, and soon a flurry of detail work with smaller trimmers and some of her tools from the table. Probably took her about ten minutes for the haircut. Then some time with a straight razor blade and a tweezer to pluck and shave all over my face and then arms. I told her that this was all new to me, having literally just been picked from the street. She reassured me that there wasn't much to it. Just be no-nonsense about it. Take whatever the stylist decides, change clothes quickly, do the poses the photographer asks for, and repeat.

"All done," she said and handed me the hand mirror as if I had any say in this. I looked so different than just moments before. The hair was shorter than I've ever had it, with a razor sharp fringe line. The fade on the sides was basically just an inch tall from the head and down the temple, then skin tight down, and presumably the same around the back of the head as well. The total amount of hair I was left with could fit a shot glass. "If you go down the corridor to the break room there is a shower in the bathroom there. Ask Andy outside to let you in. Take a quick rinse to get rid of stray hairs, change into these, put your stuff in one of the plastic boxes there, and come back to me for a final touch-up." She handed me a pair of white briefs and white socks. I hesitated a bit, and she was quick to jump ahead of my thoughts. "Everyone around here are used to see gorgeous bodies without clothes. Act as if it is normal, because to us it is. You can't be self-conscious. Oh, and Andy is the only one with a key, so your valuables are safe." Another boy showed up at the door saying he needed a new application. I told Julia thanks and went to look for Andy.

Andy unlocked the door to the office lunch room for me and I did as Julia had told me. I stripped naked and put everyting, clothes, wallet, phone, keys, shoes, into one of the plastic boxes, wrote my name on it with a whiteboard marker and placed it next to all the other boxes. Eight boxes in total. I went into the bathroom, took a 90 seconds shower, and dried myself off with one of the towels from the pile. I put on the briefs and socks, had Julia apply her things to me, and within ten minutes I was dressed in Nike shoes, joggers, and a fleece hoodie, being ordered by a photographer who didn't have time to introduce himself to look left, turn around, put my hands in my pockets, pull up the hood, sit down on the floor, and on and on. Then out change, and back with the next item.

It was going non-stop since they were behind on my stuff, so I had barely time to talk to anyone. There wasn't any proper lunch break either, just a protein bar together with two of the other models, Mark and Andrew. At first they thought it was funny that I had just been snatched off the street for the shoot, but when I told them how much more money I got they were like "fuck you, go back to work". Well the break was over anyway, so I don't know how serious they were.

It continued with item after item, until I realized I was the only model left. The others had taken off without saying goodbye, not that we had any relation. People were moving things out of the office, and when I asked about the hurry they said there was a firm deadline when they had to be out so the cleaning crew could put everything back to a working office again. I could feel the pressure as it was my item changes that held up everyone. I swapped into a pair of MRKNTN underwear that probably was like half a size too small but decided to just power through with the shoot. As soon as the last photo had been taken, they started to dismantle the light rigs. As I walked back to the lunch room I could see that most of the clothes racks were gone. The makeup room was back to looking like a conference room. I couldn't find Andy anywhere though, and the lunch room with my stuff was still locked. I wanted my stuff for sure, but more importantly I wanted to get out of the underwear that kept squeezing and chafing. I couldn't go more than 30 seconds without having my hands down the joggers to adjust them.

Ben wasn't anywhere to be seen either. I asked one of the remaining people and he said they had all left, working on getting all the stuff back and preparing the "delivery pipeline" for the photos. Probably Andy had checked off everyone from his list, and it was printed before I was recruited. "Just keep the clothes you have on and you can come back here Monday and pick up your stuff," he said.

Fuck.

No point in hanging around any longer. Everyone wanted to leave as soon as possible, so I just left and headed towards the bus stop. It was getting late and with no phone on me I couldn't call home and say what was going on.

Fuck.

I didn't have anything to pay the bus fare with. I could perhaps go back to the office building and see if I could catch anyone exiting, use their phone, and call for someone to pick me up. But there was no telling if and when I would get hold of anyone. Just walking back there would make me miss the next bus, so that would set me back at least an hour. I could just as well ask someone else to use their phone. Or perhaps ask them to cover the bus fare.

That's when I saw them, a little bit further down the street, past the bus stop. Six boys huddled at the corner, talking and messing around as if no one else was around. One had a bike. All of them dressed in the kind of clothes I had spent all day modeling in, track suits, hoodies, trainers. All of them were smoking. I figured I'd have as good a chance with them as with anyone else now, looking the way I looked.

As I was getting closer one of them alerted the others and they had some kind of conversation about me. "Hello, excuse me. Could I borrow money for the bus fare from any of you?" There was a second of silence before a mixed snicker erupted, and one of them answered "No, bruv. I don't think so."

I don't know why, but for some reason I was mortified by how I had been dismissed. I could feel my face turning red, so I quickly turned away from them to make my way back to the bus stop, without any plan of what to do next.

"Oi, bruv!" I heard from behind me. Looking back at them I could see three boys had gotten up and were heading my way. "Callum's grafting down at the barber's for some extra quid and need someone to practice on. What if he can do some practice while we cover the fare and take you home safely? Fair, innit?"

"I barely have any hair," I said and let my hand touch my fresh skin fade, almost shocking myself with how radically different it felt.

"Won't be much of a nick then, bruv."

He was right. There wasn't much he could ruin. I had only a few millimeters of hair so in the worst case scenario I could shave completely and it would be back within the week.

"Good lad. A deal innit."

"Yes," I said, unsure if it was expected. The guy who had spoken and Callum flanked me while the third lad walked behind me, enveloping me with the scent of smoke and body spray. After a silent moment the guy spoke again, introducing himself as Iwan and the third guy as Rob, and asked where I lived. I gave him the bus stop, Hillside Garden North, about 18 minutes ride. Would have been busy during the week, but at weekends there wouldn't be many on the bus.

We didn't have to wait long for the bus to arrive, but instead of entering by the driver they all bunched up again with me in the middle and entered through the exit doors as a single unit. Then they quickly moved to the back of the bus and pushed me into a seat next to Callum, facing Iwan and Rob in the furthest back seat. I half expected the driver to say something over the speakers, but there was barely a delay, if any, before the bus was moving as if nothing was out of the ordinary. I looked at Iwan with perhaps a bit of surprise and he just shrugged as if to say "what did you expect? That the driver would confront us?"

Then he nodded at Callum next to me, backpack in his lap, who answered "Aye" and got up. He placed the bag on the seat and positioned himself right in front of me, one leg on either side of mine, his knees hitting the edge of the seat, and his left hand grabbing the rail behind me. It felt both imposing and intimate. He opened the backpack and rummaged around with his right hand until he found a small trimmer in a zip-lock bag.

He opened it with both hands and threw the plastic bag into the backpack. Then he looked out and waited for the bus to drive on straight and even road before he turned the trimmer on. Then slowly he moved it in an arched line from my temple and along the side of my head until he reached the neck. Then he studied for a few seconds before he made a few additional buzzes along the same line.

"Not bad, innit?" he said while shifting his body so Iwan and Rob could see. "Fucking mint, mate," Iwan answered.

Then he turned on the trimmer again and unexpectedly extended the line by buzzing my eyebrow for a few seconds. I hadn't even considered my eyebrows. Callum reached into his backpack again to put the trimmer in the zip-lock, but without moving his feet so his body pressed even closer to me. While I couldn't see much, I could certainly feel his body spray filling my nostrils while I felt my eyebrows with my fingers. I guess there would be a lot to explain to mother anyway, so this would just be yet another detail.

I could just see it for a fraction of a second. It looked like a small glue gun in off-white plastic. Then before I could realize what it was it was pressed against my ear, it made a snapping sound, and I felt a sharp pain. "What the!" I said, more in surprise than pain.

"18G piercing. Hurts more, heals slower, but much better," Callum offered, as if it was the type of piercing that was in question, not that he had done it at all. He reloaded the piercing gun and I struggled with what to do. Just take it like the first one? Why should I? But then one piercing was the real threshold. Once you pass that, two is if anything better than one. This would soon be over anyway.

He was just as quick with the second one as the first one. "These need to stay in 30 days, you hear me?" he said, still standing essentially on top of me. "Yes, I understand," I said with a sinking feeling of all the implications. He put the gun back into the bag and went searching for something again. Finally he pulled out some sort of pliers, then held my earlobe with one hand while doing something with the pliers with the other. "Making sure they don't fall off," he explained before sitting down again on his seat. I could see Iwan and Rob again, and booth looked pleased. Iwan looked absolutely chuffed. "Fucking proper, innit" he said and pat me hard on the shoulder. "Fucking proper."

After than Iwan opened up and started to ask me all kinds of questions, starting with my name, which I realized I hadn't given him when he presented everyone. I was soon giving the highlights of the day as a photo model until we arrived my stop. To my surprise everyone got off with me. "Said we would take you home safe." We continued to chat all the way home and it turned out me Iwan and Rob had the same taste in electronic music while Callum was more of a rock guy.

"Ok, this is my stop," I said once we reached my house. "Meet us Monday, same time and place," Iwan said. "What?" "You owe us £2 for the bus, bruv." "But..." "You going back on our deal?" "No, I'll come by." "And wear the same clothes. Underwear too." "No! I have classes." "You'll figure it out, bruv." Callum opened his backpack again and tossed something to Iwan. "And use this," he said and handed over a can of Lynx Jungle body spray. "What if I don't? What if I don't do any of that?" "Where you live isn't a secret, innit? See you Monday, bruv."

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yassifiedfrog · 4 months

Text

Cheat Day

This is a rewrite of a story I read like a year ago and forgot to bookmark in any way. Please sent a note if you know where to find the original… Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

Michael stared at the door. There was still time to back out. To go back home and accuse Tom of cheating. Although Michael was assertive, tough even, he didn’t like confrontation. Not real, emotional confrontation. As soon as he saw the text he knew it wasn’t just another Grindr hookup. He and Tom decided very early on that sex and love were two very different things, and whatever they did to each other in the bedroom would only get better if they had inspiration from other encounters.

Still, looking at the door it felt like cheating. He had been pacing the apartment for minutes in a mix of emotions. Sadness, anger, jealousy, disbelief. He had opened all the hookup apps he had in an impulsive fit of desperately seeking a revenge fuck. A revenge fuck with someone else. It was only minutes later that he had found Jonathan, who appeared as eager as him, nearby, and with a matching profile. Gay bottom who needed a quick fuck.

Now in front of the door he wasn’t at all as sure anymore. Standing someone up wasn’t cool either. At the very least he should say sorry in person. He rung the door.

Almost instantly the door flung open and a revealed a good looking guy a year older than Michael, according to his profile. “Hey, big dude”, he said and placed a long, sloppy kiss on Michael. There wasn’t really any size difference between the two. In fact, apart from their faces they looked pretty much alike. Two skinny guys in their late twenties with a few days shade, similar haircuts and tattooed sleeves that looked the same if you squinted a lot. They even dressed alike, tight jeans and casual, high quality untucked shirt, rolled sleeves and not buttoned all the way up. ”You’re really gonna like this.” he said when he finally peeled away from the kiss. Michael could nothing but agree.

“I’m Michael. I guess I should ask if you are Jonathan, but with that greeting I would be very disappointed if I had to leave.” Jonathan smiled a wry smile. “Trust me, you are not leaving without my permission”, and he placed another slobbering kiss.

“I like your hair. I guess you need something practical with all the gym time you clock. Fits with the whole dumb jock image you’re going for.” If Michael had a dumb look, it was because he had no idea what Jonathan was talking about. He hadn’t been in a gym for months. He could live off donuts and coffee and still not put on any weight, try as he might. Jonathan’s hands were all over him, while he kicked the door shut. “I bet it takes a lot to keep such a muscled body. I bet you meal prep twice a week, eat five times a day, and stay off all processed food, all sweets, all alcohol. That takes some serious dedication.” Oh! Michael could see what he was doing. He was setting up a role playing scene.

“Lifting is life, bro” Michael tried. “There’s my fucking gym bro. It’s all about the gains and looking good naked. That’s why you shave everything below the nose, right? To make the muscles show better.”

Jonathan smiled and kissed Michael deep again, while his hands where all up inside Michael’s shirt. Michael had never shaved anything except for his face, and recently he hadn’t bother with anything but running a trimmer a few times a week.

“It’s time for your post-workout shake, right? Best time while you still have that after sweat glow. I have it ready in the kitchen for you.” “Thanks. Sure is, bro”

Michael couldn’t remember when he last had one. Years ago at least. It was chalky and not at all something he would ever ask for again. He followed Jonathan into the kitchen, and as soon as he entered Jonathan threw a plastic shaker at him. “Catch! Chug it! You’ll love it.”

It tasted like vanilla. Strangely he did like it. Had he even had lunch, or was that forgotten too in the whole text message and cheating business? Something about Jonathan made both his dick and thinking really hard. No other bottom he’d met had ever been so assertive, so in charge. But bottom and sub were different things, and he couldn’t deny that it made him want to fuck his brains out all the more. So when Jonathan led him to the bedroom he was actually worried the amount of pre-cum would show.

“Let’s stop cosplaying and get this shit off you!” Jonathan said and ripped Michael’s shirt open, sending buttons in all directions. “What the hell, bro?” “You know anything with buttons are too inconvenient. You never use them.”

He unbuttoned Michael’s jeans for him. “Get naked and get in bed.” Confused he did as he was told and kicked off his shoes and slid down his jeans and boxers. Not only was his dick and balls slippery and shiny of pre-cum, but all of his body was glistening of sweat in the dim bedroom light. As he stepped out of the pile of clothes he realized he was completely smooth. Not a single hair as far as he could see. It made sense, since he was playing jock and it would make the muscles really pop, but something about it wasn’t right. He reached for the socks, but Jonathan stopped him. “That’s enough! On your back!”

Michael might be playing a dumb jock, but he knew something was terribly wrong. Very slowly he sat down on the bed. His arms looked pathetic. The rest of the body too. But that was just disappointing, not really something to be alarmed about. Jonathan stepped forward, grabbed both his legs and raised them from the floor, forcing Michael on his back.

“Let’s fuck you into shape, shall we?” he said and thrust his dick into Michael’s ass. Michael wasn’t prepared at all for the onslaught and sounded an indiscreet yelp. His brain was going through questions, looking for the right one. Why was he lying down while Jonathan was standing up? And again, a second thrust. Why was he almost naked while Jonathan had only unbuttoned his jeans? A loud belch escaped from him. He could feel his stomach churning. Why was he the one getting fucked and not Jonathan? As the third thrust hit he could feel an ache reverberate through his whole body.

“Tom likes being the big spoon, doesn’t he? He likes that while you are the one bossing him around, he is the bigger one, the one that protects you while you sleep, even though he doesn’t have much muscles.” Wave after wave of pain was flooding Michael. He felt like he really ought to know who Tom was. It was somehow important. Jonathan was fucking him with, deep, slow strokes. “He doesn’t like big, bulky muscles. They gross him out. The upper body is the worst.” Michael wanted the pain to stop. It felt like he was being stretched on a rack. “Big, bouncy pecs that puff up and out the chest. Big delts that makes the shoulders look wide and clumsy. Huge traps that misshapes the top of the shirt. And worst of all, big, bulging biceps that strains the fabric of any normal sleeve, and risk tearing it if you bend your arm. He hates it all.” The pain was ever shifting for Michael. The bone crushing pain mutated into a burning sensation. He let out another long burp. What was Jonathan talking about again? It was so hard to concentrate.

“And legs! Big, thick thighs that makes it impossible for you walk properly and pushes your junk out, so it looks obscene whatever you do. Tom would be disgusted. The massive body and legs makes your average dick look small. Your massive balls just makes it look even smaller. And veins. Big irregular veins snaking up and down the arms and legs, like an erect dick.” Jonathan was pumping furiously now, getting close to climax. Michael’s head was spinning. He was just happy the pain had subdued into a tingling sensation. Then Jonathan just stopped and there was a second of calm where Michael couldn’t think of anything. Then they both exploded, Michael pumping squirts after squirts of warm cum up in the air, while at the same time he could feel Jonathan emptying his load inside of him. Both of them appeared to have limitless supply. Michael felt something else as well, how the body was shifting. It felt like he was moving around, or like the sheet was being pulled from under him.

No, he wasn’t moving. He was growing, he realized. It was as if Jonathan was inflating a balloon with his cum. He himself was emptied his balls all over himself in an uneven smattering of sticky frosting. He realized everything Jonathan had said about Tom was true. He was rapidly turning into the kind of body Tom would laugh at. Mock. Be repulsed by, even. “Please. Please stop. Whatever reason you think you have for doing this, it’s wrong. This is all wrong.” Jonathan raised an eyebrow while shooting a last few shots of cum into Michael.

Jonathan withdrew and stepped back a step, panting and clearly exhausted. “Yeah, this is wrong.” With his dick still out of the jeans he climbed into the bed next to Michael. Michael wanted to shrug back, to get away, but his body just laid there like a sack of whey. Without hesitation Jonathan placed his hands around Michael’s throat and started to squeeze. “No! Please! Don’t kill me! Please, stop doing this.” The pitch of his voice was slowly going up, until the last two words when it crashed down octaves. “Please, just stop”

Michael’s voice was deep, touching on African American, but still somehow youthful. “That’s better. Now, sit up beef boy, I want to show you something.” Jonathan slapped Michael on the shoulder with a wet and meaty thud, got up from the bed, and went to the wardrobes along the wall. Michael sat up in the bed, noting that he was not only more muscled than anyone he knew, but quite a bit taller than before. Jonathan opened one of the wardrobes and revealed a full length mirror mounted on the inside of the door.

Michael didn’t see himself in the mirror. Somehow the sum of the parts made a bigger impact than just seeing and feeling them on their own. He was surprised how young his face looked. Barely twenty, he would guess. It looked utterly wrong on top of that massive body. Young, dumb, and above all immature looking. Like he went to gym instead of high school and juiced his way to his twenties. If you wanted to lab grow the antithesis to what turned Tom on, this would be it. “Why are you doing this?”

Jonathan’s face twisted into a snarl of contempt, took a step back and grabbed Michael’s head between his hands, pressed the palms into his cheeks until the lips parted and forcefully spit a glob of saliva into Michael’s mouth. He then leaned down and made another long kiss. “I’ll tell you, Brad, why I’m fucking doing this.”

Brad? Michael was sitting, slacked jawed looking up at Jonathan. He glanced down, seeing his reflection in the mirror behind Jonathan. For a short moment he expected to see Michael in the mirror, but of course he didn’t. He’s Brad. Anyone can see that. Jonathan stepped in, replacing his view of the mirror with Jonathan’s erect dick.

“Suck it! You love sucking dick more than anything, you cum guzzling bottom slut! You worthless piece of shit. You were never good enough for Tom. He’s supposed to be with me! You never appreciated the way he looked at you, the way he changed to accommodate you, to be part of your life. You’re were too fucking stupid to get that! Now you are too dumb to read a newspaper. Too stupid for any joke that isn’t practical, like pantsing someone in the weight room or squirting bronzer in their butt crack.”

Jonathan still held Brad’s head with both hands, moving it back and forth to forcefully pump his dick down Brad’s throat. Brad wanted to help, to please, but there was very little he could do, beside making gagging noises.

“You don’t remember what Tom looks like anymore. You can’t remember where you met, where you used to eat together, where you lived together. You don’t even think of love or relationships anymore. You can’t plan more than to your next meal prep, fucking loser. Your life only revolves around gym, sports and sex. Those are the only things that matters, the only things you plan for, the only things you talk about.”

Jonathan let go of Brad’s head, and was just standing there panting, dick in mouth. Brad could finally start to take an active part, letting his tongue play over Jonathan’s cock head. He started to slowly suck the dick in long, deliberate motions. Jonathan collected himself, somehow relieved to have revealed his feelings for Tom, and suddenly almost surprised to be in the middle of getting a blowjob. He sounded much calmer as he continued.

“You don’t like how you look naked. You think your dick looks ridiculous and tiny next to your giant balls, so you prefer to always be fucked wearing a jock strap. You try to keep other clothes on, like you are wearing socks now, to take attention away from the jock strap. You try to have sex where and how being partially clothed makes sense. On the bench in the gym. In an alley outside. In the bleachers. In the dugout. And your massive balls are pumping so much hormones into you, you’re horny almost as soon as you’ve cum. You’ll swallow so much jizz you put it in your weekly macros.”

Brad was fully erect again, with a dollop of viscous pre-cum visible at the tip of his cock head. Jonathan was resting a hand on his head.

“Your body is never good enough. There is always more lifting, tanning, running, shaving, bulking or cutting to be done. You always want to look ready for gym, showing off what you got. Wearing bright clothes that makes people look. You want to be noticed, the center of every room you go into. How else can you get the attention to get everyone to fuck you? Loud, happy, clueless, obnoxious.”

With no warning Jonathan came again. Only a few pumps this time. Brad could feel something warm inside of him, but unlike a coffee or cocoa, it quickly spread out into all his body, and up his neck into his head. He let himself fall backwards into the bed, leaving a trailing string of cum and saliva between his lips and Jonathan’s dick, before it broke. His head was spinning. What was he doing here again. He was having sex with someone, wasn’t he? But he was still so fucking horny. In the corner of his eye he watched the guy leave the bedroom. He grabbed his slippery dick and started to masturbate. He needed to cum so badly.

The guy came back into the room with a pile of clothes, and threw it on his sweaty and cum sticky stomach. Brad felt caught and embarrassed and put both hands over his dick.

“Here, get dressed.” “Bro, you need to like fuck me.” “Sorry dude. Not my type.” “Not cool bro. I sucked you.” “Get dressed and I’ll help you find someone.” “How you’ll do that, bro?” “I’ll set up some fuck app accounts for you. I’ll even take pics and write a bio for you.” “Dope. Hurry tho. I’m so fucking horny.”

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