yeahmaybepossibly

[yeahmaybepossibly]

Hair Dyed, Brain Fried

Dani was due for a haircut. Deciding to buzz it he went to the salon and had his stylist go to town on his hair. After buzzing it all off, Dani decided that he wanted it dyed blonde as well, so after applying and washing out the dye Dani left the salon with a bleach blonde buzzcut making him look a little gay. For a few hours he was rocking the blonde buzz, he sent a pic to his friends and they all loved it but then after a while he started to feel weird.

He was laying in his bed at home scrolling through tiktok and instagram when his head started to feel tingly. It was like he was having an allergic reaction to something in the hair dye that was causing his head to start pounding. Grabbing his head, Dani got up from his bed and rushed to the bathroom and flung the medicine cabinet open looking for some Tylenol or Ibuprofen. He reached for a bottle of Tylenol he saw in the cabinet when he got a jolt of pain shooting through his brain. Recoiling his hand back to his head he put his chin down towards his chest and grimaced as his head was pounding with pain.

Suddenly the pain stopped as quickly as it started and Dani looked up at the mirror “Huhuhuh hey good lookin” Dani hit on his own reflection. “Hey! Are you copying me dude?!” He yelled at his reflection after it had just “mimicked” what was said. Unbeknownst to Dani the pain that he had just experienced was from the hair dye, however it wasn’t an allergic reaction, it was the dye reacting to his above average intelligence. No blonde beauty could be smart, blondes are best when they are dumb. Looking at his reflection Dani instinctively flexed his arms, as soon as he did so they immediately ballooned up to arms like a bodybuilder. Watching it happen the freshly dumbed-down Dani began to chuckle as he watched his arms grow, “huhuhu look at my gainz bro!” he said while looking at his arms. He kept staring at the mirror as he looked down at his puny chest, sad that he was so poorly endowed he playfully tried to pump his pecs. At first nothing happened but then his chest started to grow with massive muscles that began to bounce on his command. Dani was ecstatic. His chest began to twist and turn and he lifted up his shirt, he watched as his smooth stomach turned into a sculpted mass of muscle.

Next he looked down at his legs and watched the two sad and puny straw legs he had develop into huge slabs of strong muscle in just a matter of seconds. The next thing to happen was that his feet began to expand

and get itchy. He sat on the floor of his bathroom and ripped off his shoes, being met with the smell of sweaty socks and athlete's foot, Dani guffawed at the foul smell

coming off of him. Getting back up he realized that he must’ve worked up a sweat getting those stinking shoes off because his entire body now glistened with sweat and he could smell something floating around him. Dani’s dumb mind had a hard time locating the source of the smell but then he lifted his arm and at the base of his arm he found the foul stink of his B.O. He stuck his hand into his armpit and rubbed it around the damp crevice, pulling it back out he sniffed his hand and began to drool as his tongue rolled out of his open mouth. Dani looked back at the mirror and watched as his neck filled in with

muscle and his face began to shift and contort until what was staring back at him was a muscle head with no brain between his ears.

Dani was so satisfied with the dumb stud looking back at him in the mirror. Dani got undressed and changed into a pair of sweaty gym shorts, a white tank top with yellowing pit stains, and a smelly pair of sneakers. He picked up a baseball cap from his dresser and put it on his head and took off to the gym.

[yeahmaybepossibly]

The Cursed Locker

Caleb and Jordan had always been the last ones out of school. Whether it was detention, sneaking into the AV room to play old horror movies, or just wandering the halls after dark, they liked pushing boundaries. That’s how they found the locker.

It was at the very end of the dimly lit hallway near the gym, a row of old, rusted lockers no one used anymore. Except one was… different. The number was worn away, its metal dented and scratched as if something had been trying to escape. But the thing that really caught their attention? The green glow leaking through the vents. “Dude, what the hell is that?” Caleb asked, taking a cautious step forward. Jordan smirked. “Only one way to find out.”

As they got closer, the glow pulsed, almost like it was… breathing. And then they heard it—whispers, calling their names, hissing promises of strength, power, something more.

“Open it,” the voice urged.

A normal person would’ve run. But they weren’t normal. With one final glance at each other, Caleb grabbed the handle and yanked it open.

A wave of stench hit them like a brick wall. The air was thick with the overwhelming odor of sweat, mildew, and decades of unwashed gym clothes. Inside, there was nothing but old sports gear: reeking cleats, yellowed tank tops, sweat-stained football pads, rank basketball shorts. The smell was unbearable, yet… intoxicating. Jordan coughed, eyes watering. “Bro, this is foul!”

Caleb felt the air shift the moment he opened the locker. The stench hit him first—a rancid, overwhelming wave of old sweat, mildew, and decades of unwashed gym clothes. It was the kind of smell that clung to the back of your throat, thick and nauseating. His stomach churned, and his eyes watered, but beneath the disgust, something else stirred. Something deep. Something primal.

Inside the locker, the contents looked mundane at first—battered cleats with laces frayed to the core, a cracked football helmet caked in dried sweat, a set of shoulder pads with yellowed foam and a stiff, sour texture. But the longer Caleb stared, the more the items seemed to pulse with an unnatural energy, glowing faintly under the sickly green light spilling from the locker’s depths. And then… he heard it. A voice, not quite a whisper, yet not fully formed, slithered into his mind.

“You’re not strong enough, Caleb.”

“You’re not tough enough.”

“But you could be.”

His hand moved on its own. Trembling, hesitant, he reached for the jersey draped over the pile—a faded maroon and gold football jersey, its fabric stiff with the ghosts of a thousand games. The second his fingers brushed against it, a jolt shot through his arm, freezing him in place.

The whispers grew louder.

“Put it on.”

His breath hitched. His skin crawled with an alien sensation, like something ancient and sweaty and overpowering was seeping into his pores, claiming him. He wanted to pull away. He wanted to turn back. But he didn’t. With a shaky breath, Caleb lifted the jersey and pulled it over his head. The moment it settled on his skin, his body seized.

A raw, burning heat ignited in his chest, spreading outward like wildfire. His veins pulsed, his muscles clenched, and then—It began.

His arms bulged, the once wiry limbs thickening with heavy, corded muscle. His pale, thin fingers swelled, his nails darkening as calluses formed on his palms—hands meant for gripping a football, for tackling, for dominating the field. The sleeves of the jersey, which had once hung loose, now stretched tight around his broadening shoulders as his chest expanded, his pecs pushing against the fabric.

A deep, bone-cracking pop echoed through his body as his spine lengthened, his torso widening, ribs pushing outward to accommodate his newfound bulk. His waist remained trim, but his legs—God, his legs. They exploded with power. His thighs thickened into massive trunks of pure muscle, the kind built for speed and impact. His calves coiled with strength, tendons reshaping to give him the reflexes of a seasoned athlete. The worn denim of his jeans strained, seams groaning, before splitting apart entirely.

Beneath them, his skin had darkened to a golden tan, the complexion of someone who had spent years under the relentless sun, practicing, sweating, grinding. His breathing hitched. The scent in the air—it wasn’t just coming from the locker anymore. It was coming from him. A thick, acrid musk seeped from his pores, pungent and overpowering. The smell of locker rooms, weight rooms, and endless summer practices baked into his very being. It clung to him, an unshakable part of who he was becoming.

His face twisted, his features shifting, molding into something new. His jawline became sharper, his cheekbones more pronounced. His nose broadened slightly, his lips plumping as a hint of stubble darkened his jaw. His straight, dull brown hair darkened, thickening into black waves, slightly damp with sweat, as though he had just come off the field. And then, the memories hit.

Flashes of games under the Friday night lights. The roar of the crowd. The brutal clash of bodies on the field. The sweat dripping down his face, his jersey clinging to his body after hours of practice. The pride, the adrenaline, the hunger to win.

He wasn’t Caleb anymore. He was Carlos.

Carlos Gutiérrez, the star linebacker of a high school football team, a natural-born athlete, built for brutality and victory. He lived for the game, for the weight of his shoulder pads digging into his skin, for the smell of sweat and dirt filling his lungs, for the unbreakable bond between teammates forged through blood, pain, and glory.

Carlos exhaled, rolling his massive shoulders as the old, sweat-stained football pads settled onto him like a second skin. His thick, muscled arms flexed instinctively, and he grinned. He stank. God, he stank. And he loved it.

Jordan watched in horror… and fascination. The whispering voices curled around him now, seducing him, calling to him. His fingers brushed against a pair of old basketball shorts, and before he could even think, he was stepping into them.

Carlos stood beside him now, a hulking, sweat-drenched football player, reeking of masculinity, muscles pushing against his pads, veins thick with strength. But Jordan barely noticed—his gaze was empty and lost.

He gasped.

His chest seized, his muscles tensed, and then— Everything snapped. Heat rushed through his body, a fiery, electric sensation that crawled beneath his skin, reshaping him, molding him, building him into something new.

His legs exploded first. The once-skinny limbs thickened, lengthened, stretching toward the ceiling as his femurs expanded, his knees cracking, his calves coiling with fast-twitch muscle built for speed and agility. His thighs ballooned with dense, powerful strength, the kind that could launch him into the air with effortless grace and dominance. His sneakers groaned, the rubber soles bending as his feet grew larger, broader, sculpted for the relentless pounding of a basketball court. Then came his torso.

His spine elongated with a sickening pop, his entire frame stretching upward, pushing past six feet with ease. His ribs shifted, his shoulders broadened, his chest expanded into a lean, chiseled masterpiece of athleticism. His arms, once gangly and unremarkable, swelled with defined muscle, his biceps and triceps sculpting themselves into perfection, his forearms corded with strength meant for fast breaks and powerful dunks. And the sweat. Oh, God, the sweat.

It erupted from his skin, thick, salty, pungent. A powerful, musky stench filled the air, soaking into the shorts he now wore, mingling with the decades-old scent of past players. It was ripe, overwhelming, completely inescapable. And it was his. Jordan choked on his own scent, but instead of disgust, he felt pride. He smelled like a baller, like an athlete, like someone who had spent his entire life drenched in the effort, the grind, the glory of the game. His skin darkened, shifting from pale to a rich, warm brown, smooth and glistening with sweat. His features morphed—his jawline sharpening, his cheekbones becoming more defined.

The two new athletes locked eyes. A strange understanding passed between them. The boys they had been—the nerds who had snuck around school, who had never set foot on a field or court—were gone.

Carlos rolled his massive shoulders, the dampness of his pads seeping into his skin. “Damn, bro,” he grunted, his voice thick with a Spanish accent he hadn’t had before. “I feel… good.”

Jamal bounced on the balls of his feet, spinning a phantom basketball on his fingertips. His body dripped with a constant layer of sweat, his scent thick, overpowering, dominant. “Hell yeah, man,” he smirked, cracking his neck. “Feels like I was born for this.”

The locker door slammed shut behind them, the green glow fading. The whispers died away.

All that was left was the stench of the two stinking boys.

[yeahmaybepossibly]

The Perfect Boyfriend

It had been a great night. Probably one of the best dates I’d ever been on, if I was being honest with myself.

Anakin was adorable—small, lithe, with those wide, innocent eyes and that effortless charm. He had this way of tilting his head when he laughed, tucking a strand of his dark hair behind his ear, and every time he did it, I felt my chest tighten just a little. I was a big guy, broad and built, the kind of man who turned heads in the gym. And yet, here I was, completely enraptured by this tiny, delicate twink, feeling like some lovesick idiot.

Dinner had gone perfectly, conversation flowed easily, and when I suggested coming back to my place for a drink, he agreed with a coy smile that sent a shiver up my spine. Now, we were on my couch, bodies pressed close, his lips warm and eager against mine. My hands roamed his back, feeling the subtle ridges of his spine through his tight-fitting shirt. His hands, smaller than mine, traced along my jaw, sending jolts of pleasure through my body.

And then—disaster.

It started as a low, ominous sound, a gentle vibration against my thigh. My brain barely had time to register what was happening before the smell hit me like a brick wall.

Thick. Pungent. Unholy.

It clawed its way up my nostrils, searing itself into my sinuses like a brand. I stiffened, my hands instinctively gripping his waist. He giggled softly, shifting on my lap. Another one slipped out, hotter this time, the scent intensifying like a bomb had just gone off between us. I tried to play it cool.

“Uh, hey… you, uh—you okay?” My voice cracked slightly, my brain scrambling for an exit strategy.

Anakin nuzzled into my neck, his breath warm against my skin. “Mmhmm.” Another burst of rancid air seeped into the space between us, curling around my face like an inescapable fog. I coughed, tried to turn my head discreetly, but it was too late. My lungs were already compromised. The stench dulled my senses, made my head swim. I needed to get out—needed fresh air, but my body wasn’t cooperating. My muscles, usually so reliable, felt heavy, sluggish. My tongue was thick in my mouth, my thoughts slipping through my fingers like sand.

“Y-you know, maybe we should—uh—should call it a n-night?” I mumbled, trying to stand. My legs wobbled. I sat back down with a graceless thump.

Anakin pouted. “Aww, but we were having so much fun.” He shifted again, and another wave of pure evil erupted into the air, wrapping around me, invading my very being.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to center myself, to fight against the growing fog in my brain. I was stronger than this. I was a man—a man. And yet… The warmth of the stink wrapped around me, seeping into my clothes, my skin. It was inside me now. I could feel my resolve crumbling.

Anakin ran a hand down my chest, his fingers tracing lazy circles. “Relax,” he murmured, his voice honeyed and sweet.

I tried to respond. Tried to say no, I need air, but the words wouldn’t come. My lips moved uselessly, my brain too sluggish to form a coherent thought. I was losing. Losing to the stink. And as Anakin snuggled closer, releasing another devastating blast that melted what was left of my resistance, I realized something horrifying. I wasn’t sure I wanted to fight it anymore.

A deep, primal part of me still fought—still clawed at the edges of my mind, screaming at me to resist. I was strong. I was disciplined. I wasn’t some dumb, brainless jock who let a pretty boy turn him into a drooling mess. But the stench… oh god, the stench.

Anakin’s farts had already battered my senses, worn me down like waves eroding a cliffside. Each breath I took dragged more of his stink into my lungs, dulling my thoughts, making my body feel heavy and warm. I was slipping, my willpower draining with every second I spent trapped in his cloud of corruption.

I groaned, forcing my hands to push at his waist, trying to create space. “N-no… I gotta—”

Anakin simply giggled, his soft fingers tracing over my jaw. “Aww, don’t fight it, big guy. You were made for this.”

Made for what? My sluggish brain tried to process his words, but everything was getting harder to understand. And then he pulled out his secret weapon.

With a slow, deliberate movement, he lifted one leg and slid off his sneaker. The moment the shoe came free, a wave of concentrated, festering foot funk rushed into the air, thick and heady. My already weakened mind barely had time to register what was happening before Anakin—sweet, evil Anakin—pressed the inside of the rancid sneaker right over my nose.

I gasped in shock, inhaling a full, unfiltered lungful of pure, fermented twink foot stench. My brain short-circuited. It was over. The last vestiges of my resistance shattered like glass. My thoughts, my intelligence, my very self melted under the overwhelming power of his scent. The acrid, vinegary musk of sweat-soaked fabric and well-worn insole invaded every part of me, rewiring my brain, hollowing me out. Everything felt warm and fuzzy. Thoughts? Didn’t need ‘em. Words? Hard. Brain? Empty.

I let out a deep, dumb-sounding grunt as my body relaxed completely. My arms, which had been trying to push him away, instead wrapped around his tiny waist, pulling him in close. He giggled, knowing he had won.

“That’s a good boy,” he cooed, rubbing a hand through my hair. “You don’t need all those pesky thoughts. Just be my big, beefy boyfriend, yeah?”

I nodded, my heavy head lolling back against the couch. “Mmm… yeah… beefy…” My voice sounded different—deeper, dumber. Like my intelligence had leaked right out of my ears, replaced by an all-consuming need to obey.

“Good boy,” Anakin purred, shifting to straddle my lap. He let his sneaker fall to the floor, but the damage was already done. His scent had infected me, changed me. I wasn’t the same man I was an hour ago.

I was his now. His big, dumb, muscle-bound boyfriend.

It didn’t take long for me to settle into my new role. My old self—the strong, independent man who thought for himself—was long gone. Now, I was just Anakin’s big, obedient, muscle-bound boyfriend. I didn’t think much anymore. Thinking was hard. Anakin was much better at thinking than I was, so I let him do it for me. All I had to do was listen. And obey.

“Babe, go get me a drink,” Anakin would say, snapping his fingers, and I’d lumber to the fridge without hesitation, my body moving before my mind even processed the words.

“Rub my feet,” he’d hum, wiggling his toes in my lap, and I’d eagerly scoop up his reeking feet in my big hands, pressing my lips to his noxious feet as if worshiping a god.

I lived to please him. His happiness was my happiness. But sometimes—sometimes—that pesky little part of my brain, the last flickering remnant of the man I used to be, would stir.

Like the time Anakin told me to carry all his shopping bags through the mall. My biceps bulged under the weight of his endless purchases, and something deep inside me whispered, Hey, maybe this is a bit much… Or when he casually told me to massage his feet with my tongue. For a split second, my brow furrowed, my lips parting like I was about to say something. And every time—even the smallest sign of hesitation—Anakin would simply turn around, grin mischievously… and let one rip.

A deep, low brrrrrrrrpppffftttt would rumble from his tiny frame, a vile, noxious cloud slithering into the air and wrapping itself around my head. And just like that—poof!—any thought of resistance melted away. My eyes would go glassy, my jaw slack. The thick, putrid stench would flood my nose, creeping into my brain, softening it like warm butter.

Anakin would giggle, wiggling his fingers in front of my dazed, dumb expression. “Aww, is my big boy getting all fuzzy-brained again?”

I’d just grunt, sinking deeper into the fog, my powerful body going completely slack under his spell.

“Now,” he’d coo, booping my nose, “what were you saying, babe?”

I’d blink slowly, struggling to remember. Had I been about to argue? About to resist? No, that didn’t sound right. Anakin knew best. Anakin was everything.

“… Nothin’, babe,” I’d finally murmur, a dopey, love-drunk grin spreading across my face. “Just wanna… make ya happy.”

He’d giggle and pull me into his arms, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. “Good boy.”

And just like that, I was his again. Fully. Completely.

Obedient. Mindless.

Happy…

[yeahmaybepossibly]

Frat Founding

Wanting a simple group on campus for Indian students on campus, Kiran goes to Chad who has other plans for the academic and university at large. In short order Kiran becomes the first link in that chain and soon neither he nor his friends will be able to resist the allure of horny, dumb Greek Life

The corruption of Kiran into a Desi frat bro he would hate to be! Found too many refs so I tossed on some briefer TFs of his friends at the end. Hope you enjoy! -Occam

He was treating it like meeting an advisor, or a professor. Countless times over the last few years Kiran had gone out of his way to ask for advice on personal projects or visited office hours just to gain further insights. The CS Honors student was always looking for ways to get ahead academically.

Never has one of these meetings involved a person quite like Chad Becker however. The President of the University’s Greek Council was only known to Kiran by reputation. Kiran’s never been much of a people person, part of this whole proposal to the frat president. He wants to make a space for other Indian and South East Asians on campus to have something of a Spirit Org on campus, and given the funding provided by the council to fledgling orgs, he figured it was at least worth a shot.

Worst Chad can say was no, right?

Kiran feels the weight of Chad's stare as he awaits an answer after his opening spiel. There are a few beats before the president speaks up, giving Kiran more than enough time to go over a good number of scenarios where he’s promptly laughed out of the room. Instead though, the intimidating ideal of a frat bro smiles and responds. 

Despite the performatively laid back tone, it’s clear that there are cold calculations behind the man’s words, “For sure lil bro. Trust, there’s no one who wants to see Greek Life be more, hm, multicultural yeah? I absolutely hear you.” Listening intently, Kiran struggles to find any sincerity in the Cali bro’s tone as he waits for the ‘but’ that must be incoming.

It doesn’t. Still staring at him with eyes as sharp as a shark’s despite their icy blue irises, Chad continues, “I’m sure you know frat life gets a bad rap regarding biases and having a group like yours on campus would help everyone see that there’s a place for them in Greek Life. So Kiran, bro, correct me if I’m wrong, but you’d be president of the frat starting out yeah?”

Chad is clearly sizing him up as he says this, like a prize steer to go to show or a weed to be pulled so something superior may be planted. Kiran doesn’t notice as he bristles at realizing there’s been a misunderstanding, “Oh! Sorry Mr. Becker, I think- I, sorry- I wasn’t really thinking about a frat so much as uhm? In my mind I was imagining something more along the lines of a support organization for-”

He’s cut off without a word as Chad sucks on his teeth. Kiran swears he feels the temperature drop in the room, nerves. It’s just nerves. Forcing himself with all he’s got to look at the man sitting opposite him, somehow above him, Kiran almost shivers as he sees him only stare more intently, almost glaring. His perfect wide smile only gleams brighter as he continues to look into and through the meeker student like a predator. 

For a moment his surfer-vocal fry fades away, “I see I see, so you want to use our funds for your little hackathons and holi formals but keep us at arms length yeah?” His eyes narrow and his lips twitch slightly, but then he takes a deep breath and resets. That cold tone moving like the ebb of the tide as he reminds Kiran who holds the power here, “Let’s start over. Would you like a drink Kiran?” 

Seeing Chad wander over to a minifridge hiding in the corner and grab a beer, Kiran prepares to turn the offer down. But then the president stands over him, one meaty hand on his shoulder while the other offers him an opened bottle dripping with condensation, “Please, Kiran. I insist.” 

Before he even has an inclination to respond, the bottle already rests in his shaky hand. Only then does he notice the creeping thirst. Suddenly, his mouth and throat are so dry he wonders if he’d even be able to even speak. 

Chad’s smile is too emotionless to be read as cruel and calculating, though there’s sure to be no affection in his words as he seeks to compel Kiran, “Go on, Prez to be, take a sip.”

He’s never been much of a drinker, let alone a beer guy. But as he’s commanded, like a dutiful soldier he has no choice but to obey. As soon as the first sip graces his tongue, the bookish student’s senses are dulled.

In the back of his mind he hears the echo of a memory he doesn’t remember living. Voices shout, ‘Chug, chug, chug!’ Kiran’s eyes go blank as he can’t help but obey. Each heaving gulp is deeper and more labored than the one that comes before. Kiran’s vision swims slightly as he watches Chad’s unreadable expression tinge with contentment.

Patting his guest on the back and laughing, Chad makes his way over to grab a couple more beers, “Hah! Easy now bro, this is a meeting now after all! Didn’t think you were that much of a party animal Kiran.” Popping open two more bottles, he sets one in front of Kiran and watches as the smaller man slowly shakes his head.

He isn’t a party animal, he detests crowds and drunken fraternity bros. Opening his mouth to deny Chad’s asinine assessment, his stomach grumbles. One of his hands goes to put pressure on it and physically  feels it rumble. Still woozy from one drink, the lightweight suddenly begins to feel bloated.

Mouth still agog, his hand quickly flies to his face as he struggles to stop himself from burping. Clamping his lips shut just in time, each second pushing down the urge, each second refusing to let loose, it only grows more intense. He feels pressure rising in his stomach as his jaw burns from the effort of staying decent. 

Beyond simple pressure, Kiran realizes that it’s not just internal, he feels his thin stomach pushing into his hand. In between clutching fingers begins to grow a layer of fat he simply would never eat enough to maintain. This distracts him enough for everything to give. Eyes watering, Kiran turns to look at the Frat president, as soon as he sees the smug look on Chad’s once guarded face, he loses control.

Buurrp- It lasts more than a few seconds. The soothing relief of giving in is firmly repressed by the embarrassment that fills his chest. Deep enough that Kiran can scarcely notice though, some part of him thinks it’s funny. Nothing wrong with burping bro, chill out- And while the thought is buried for now, it only continues to grow. 

��Nice one brah!” Chad reaches out his drink to cheers with the new beer bottle in front of Kiran, lacking willpower to do anything but obey, so he does. Cold bottle in his hand once more he can’t ignore how right it feels in his hand. Clink- Seeing Chad take a swig he once more mimics his, er the president.

Still bloated, Kiran notices another strange sensation begin to rise. Just below where he clutched his stomach earlier, an itch begins to rise. With a frown, his free hand goes to do what one does and scratch it, clumsily continuing to drink his free beer as he does so.

Each pass of his fingers only makes it worse, spreads the burning itch further. Figuring he’s already embarrassed himself enough in front of Chad, he shoves his hand under his shirt. Gasping in shock, he realizes that his lower stomach is covered in a treasure trail growing wider by the second. 

Feeling the strands pushing out into his sweaty fingers he can’t help but steal a look. Waiting for Chad to inspect papers in front of him Kiran quickly yanks up his shirt and bites his tongue to prevent from gasping again as he sees, on top of clearly having more weight, that his stomach that has always been gratefully hairless has been overrun with body hair. 

Too dense and thick to even be dubbed a treasure trail, Kiran struggles to remember how he let it get this bad. Eyes drifting lower, Kiran finds another new problem. Slightly peeking out above his waistband and creating a definite bulge above his cock, his pubes have grown even more rampant than his belly hair. Seeing this and taking another swig of his beer, Kiran burps once more before doing the unimaginable.

He shoves his hands in his pants and scratches at his pubes. Almost moaning from delight he bites his lip as his fingers are immediately tangled in the thick new jungle. Creaking under his squirming form, reminding him that he has somehow put on more than a few pounds, Kiran absolutely forgets where he is as his hand drifts lower to cup his balls. His less-than-graceful fingers find them unmistakably heavier than they’ve ever been, almost filling his small hand. 

Never truly distracted, at this point Chad sees fit it’s time to break Kiran from his reverie, lest he go too far too fast. Clearing his throat he calls Kiran back to his right mind, more or less. The slightly heftier student’s hand tears from his pants and forcefully bumps into the underside of Chad’s desk, producing a deep grunt of pain. 

Now realizing that he was cupping his balls during the most important meeting of the semester, Kiran tries to hide that from the man who sees right through him. Though, without him being aware of it the very same hand races to his nose wherein he takes a deep sniff of the ball sweat soaked fingers. Watching his eyes roll back from the odor, Chad has to stop from bursting out laughing.

Going on something of a victory lap, Chad sees fit to taunt the changing man, “Yo bro, you just adjust your dick didja?” Hand still under his nose, Kiran stammers quickly denying the idea, there’s no way he did that? He’d not do so in private, how could he? And yet, even as he forces his hand back to his papers, the whiff of his sweaty dick remains, “No! Of course not- I mean-”

Smirking, Chad interrupts, “No, no, don’t worry ‘bout it bro. Guys like us don’t gotta worry about stuff like that. You get an itch, it’s the most human thing in the world to scratch it.” Kiran slowly shakes his head, guys like us. He’s not like Chad, he’ll never be like Chad

Seeing the man meagrely fighting back Chad stuffs his hand down his pants and performatively scratches an itch that wasn’t even there, dropping a stray pube on the table. The whole time, Kiran’s eyes never left the man’s hands, staring at the bulge in his pants shifting to the single curly strand that now sits between them. Ready to move on and content that the man’s changes are accelerating, Chad directs his attention back to himself.

“Got something on your cheek there bruh?” There’s the sound of Kiran sucking spit back into his mouth, not even aware that he had apparently been drooling. Quickly taking another swig, emptying his second beer, Kiran’s free hand flies to his face. Still slightly sticky from sweat, his fingers find something so shocking that he almost spits up the amber beer still in his mouth. 

Swallowing the beer and tossing the bottle onto the table he scratches at his face fervently, beyond shocked that without his notice his paltry stubble has exploded to cover his face. No it’s not even stubble, as his suddenly less than pristine fingernails trail across his once hairless cheeks, peach fuzz thickens and spreads further across his face.

In no time at all a mustache pushes out of his upper lip and his jawline is coated with a thick beard. His mind tries to tell him this is normal, he’s got a hairy stomach and bushy pubes, surely he’s had this beard forever. Feeling bloated once more, his shirt begins to strain his chest as two meaty pecs begin to rise above his meatier stomach. 

Focus returns to his eyes, he knows something is horribly wrong. Thicker brows furrowing at Chad he grunts out, finding his voice crackling deeper and slightly tinged with the vocal fry that infects every word out of Chad’s mouth, “What are you grh- doing to me you- urgh Asshole!” The president feigns concern and tilts his head ignoring the question that may well be Kiran’s last show of strength. Chad then simply pushes his half drunk beer closer to Kiran.

Eyes flickering between the man returning to the minifridge and the stale bottle set before him like bait, Kiran’s willpower begins to wane once more. Before the frat bro even makes it across the room, the sound of Kiran’s shirt straining against his heavier arms as he reaches for the drink fills the air. Chad grabs three more and returns to the desk.

When the mousy student entered the room Chad wondered if he’d even be able to sustain the transformation. Sitting here now, watching him drink that backwash laden swill without question, seeing nipples poking through the shirt beginning to tear, it’s clear that no dweeb out there will be able to resist his siren call. Kiran burps loudly, stopping just short of guffawing he tugs at his increasingly uncomfortable shirt. 

Time to finish the dance, “So, Kiran, you were saying you wanted an Indian frat on campus right?” The top button bursts off his button up as he dumbly produces a plodding, “uuuuhhh?” His mind alights with his shifting memories. The fluorescent lights from studying overnight in a library suddenly strobing, changing colors as bookshelves press inward and deep base begins to pump from speakers pushing out from behind tables now littered with red solo cups and spilled cans. 

Automatically drinking from the new bottle sat in front of him, Kiran sloppily wipes the beer spilling onto his beard with his hairier arm. Struggling a bit as his muscular biceps now compete with his heavy pecs for space. His vision swims, rapidly switching between the blowout party and the meeting with Chad. Competing with blaring speakers and crowd uproar that only he can hear, Kiran shouts in his new bullish voice, “Well uhhh, bro kinda just wanted a place for guys like me to hang y’know? Place for all the lil Desi guys on campus yuh?”

“Shirt’s lookin a little tight there bruh, you sure you’re just a ‘lil guy’ anymore?” Turning to take in his thick form, Kiran certainly can’t disagree. Chest hair encroaching on his neck, thighs thicker than his waist used to be. The chair creaks once more, threatening to totally give way under the still growing man. Yeah he’s no twerp, him and his bros are always at the gym.

In fact, Kiran doesn’t remember the last time he was even in a lecture. Attending office hours is absolutely out of the questions, the only interactions he’s had with professors and T.A’s were arm wringing for class credit. Clear as day he remembers meeting with a dude he would’ve sworn he was close with for intro to python, but as he plays it through he remembers burping in the man’s face and throwing a sweaty, heavy arm around him. 

God that nerd was so uncomfortable. His expression turns to a sneer as he sits in front of Chad, and the president knows his work is just about done. Kiran paws at his crotch as he recalls dominating that man, some weak academic who thought himself a superior. Biting his lip, his bulge makes itself more than clear in his tight dress pants as the fabric rapidly e into the same sweats he wears every day, stained as they may be. 

When pre suddenly begins to leave a stain that makes it clear the Desi frat bro is free balling, Chad knows Kiran is far past the point of no return. “Bro, do you ever not think with your cock?” Tearing off whatever remains of his shirt and fondling his bulky pecs Kiran shrugs, “Dunno bro, you ever think about somethin’ other than my cock either?” There’s a charge in the air as the two men stare at each other with something dark in their expressions before both break out into uproarious laughter.

Then, addressing it like it’s something they had discussed a number of times, Kiran takes the floor, “So, big bro, council good if I start recruiting for my new chapter?” Chad raises his glass and takes a long swig, with a content sigh he acquiesces, “Course brobro, we know you more than got what it takes. Been wanting to diversify frat row’s portfolio for a while, you know that.”

Scratching his exposed stomach as he stands, his fingers treading dangerously close to inching under his waistband once more, Kiran nods without a thought, “Yuhhhh!” Finishing another drink he belches yet again and finally there is no shred of decency left to fight back “Burrrrp, Huhuh!” Tossing the bottle onto the ground apathetic whether it breaks or not, the newly dubbed frat president stretches.

Flexing to himself as he stands there, feeling the strength and weight of his new form, Kiran feels his blood rush to his thicker cock as he realizes what a specimen he is. Chad similarly imagines how easy it’ll be for him to finally take over the rest of the school. No one’ll be shit talking Greek life anymore once men like Kiran are bumbling across campus. No need for little brownnosing losers in lectures when everyone finally remembers what it’s all about. 

Eager to get a move on, and sure that if Kiran stays any longer both will have to write off the day for obvious reasons, he prods the man, “You were saying you were gonna go play your old friends a visit right? Go get your first members?” Kiran nods, that darker look returning and temporarily displacing his lust for himself and Chad. Rolling his shoulders he imagines his study group, doesn’t even remember how he knows them or why.

Grabbing a beer for the road, he nods at Chad and heads out the door. The incongruence at those dweebs even knowing his name begins to prickle at his mind, he needs to fix it. His frat must grow and so must they. Losers have spent too long playing MtG and Dota 2, he’s gotta remind them what men should be. That drinking, fucking, and partying are more important than their shitty assignments. 

Wandering around campus he flexes his bicep and delights in his heady musk. Soon every beta male around will be just like him, just as Chad planned. He can’t wait until Chad runs this school. Approaching his old apartment he hears a few shrill men arguing about some lines of code inside. Cracking his neck and pawing at the growing bulge in his sweats, he’s never been more excited for anything. Time for the first inductions into the school’s newest fraternity.

In no time at all, his four best friends are all converted into perfect specimens for Kiran’s frat. Forewarned by his musk creeping in as he stands at the door, as soon as he barges in all four are instantly overwhelmed by his muscular, masculine visage. Under his touch their thin forms bulge. On the couch, Amir’s body immediately thickens into one that never shies away from his keg stand. His nose twitches as a powerful mustache pushes out of his upper lip as he becomes Kiran’s right hand.

Boyfriends Dev and Mo follow shortly after, their suddenly sculpted muscles bulging larger as if they were in competition with each other. Mo’s back cracks as he finally stands taller than his boyfriend, his potable goatee thickening into a beard that would put a lumberjack to shame. Dev’s twinkish face reshapes into something more masculine and handsome despite remaining smooth. While Kiran continues his work, focusing on the other two, the boyfriend’s waste no time rushing to their suddenly messier room.

Finally, quite Ajit who had been doing his best to not give in breaks. Hands that had been gripping the edge of the table trying to avoid the gaze of the man who cannot be Kiran, white knuckles cramp and burst larger as forearms and biceps surge larger in quick succession. His racing anxious breaths allow his chest to rapidly expand. Pecs quickly tatter his shirt as criss crossing veins decorate arms thicker than his legs once were. 

Under the table his legs push larger and his bulge demands his attention. Lips suddenly surrounded by a thick beard, biting his lip he quickly snaps a picture of himself before following in the path of his five best friends as his hands quickly find his newly massive cock. The air of their apartment swiftly smells more of sex than one can imagine. Each man a perfect test case for Chad’s grand plans, perfect frat bros whose dicks will lead their frat to expand. Kiran and Amir hosting parties that no Desi man could resist, no one’s eyes will be able to avoid Dev and Mo as they’re all over each other at the gym, and Ajit’s new online presence and perfect form will send tendrils of change well beyond their university. One unreached community handled, Chad continues his grand plan of ensuring that Greek Life is the only group left standing.

[yeahmaybepossibly]

TRANSFORM YOURSELF AT PFATTER U!

The Pfatter U Admissions team has been working on a big promotional video, highlighting all the truly transformational opportunities we have to offer: the Thickening Machine and GroBig Mass Gain powder, to our all new Bloat Ray, you’ll leave your skinny jeans behind when you enroll at Pfatter University!

Watch this preview to see our student bodies grow as they rapidly pack on the pounds! Drop a comment to let our Admissions Team know if you’ll be sending in your application! 😉🐷

Want to see the other half of this promo? Join our Senior Class tier to watch, and to access our extensive video library of all the big men on campus!

[yeahmaybepossibly]

Off Script

Tyler had been scrolling through old student theatre group forums, feeling nostalgic and vaguely bitter. His latest audition had been a flop, the casting director not even giving him a callback. “God, I wish I knew how those Hollywood assholes did it,” he muttered, tossing his highlighted script onto his Ikea bedspread. “What do they have that I don’t?”

The dorm room felt hot. Too hot. His silk robe was clinging to his smooth chest, and he swiped at his sweaty brow with perfectly manicured fingers. “Ugh. Gross,” he winced. He never sweated like this.

A deep hum vibrated in his ears.

Blink.

The velvet posters of Broadway shows on his wall were gone. Replaced, somehow, by framed Sports Illustrated covers of busty blondes in wet t-shirts. His theater textbooks were gone, swapped for battered biographies of conservative pundits and “The Art of the Deal.”

“What the f—” he croaked, his voice cracking strangely deep.

He moved to stand, but his calves ached, thickening by the second beneath ratty gym shorts. His favorite thrifted tank top was clinging tighter, the logo “FEMINIST AS FUCK” stretching obscenely over broadening pecs, the neckline darkening with pit stains.

He smelled like—

No. No, no, no. He groomed. Twice a day.

“Dude, chicks love the stink,” a voice whispered through his brain, low, cocky, and undeniably not his.

Tyler’s blue eyes darted to the full-length mirror by his desk. Except… the reflection didn’t quite match anymore.

His face was sharpening, jaw pushing out with brutal symmetry, lips curling into a natural smirk like a frat boy posing for Instagram. His soft, gelled curls were darkening, hardening into that messy, sex-symbol flop.

The mental intrusion didn’t stop.

“Fuck Broadway. Musicals are for queers and fat girls. Real men do movies. Action shit. War flicks. Stuff with tanks. And big fuckin’ titties bouncing everywhere.”

Tyler whimpered, clutching his temples as his freshly sprouted chest hair curled under his collarbones, itching horribly.

His voice, his thoughts, were being overwritten. Not lines on a page. Thoughts. Real, unedited, disgusting.

“What the hell is happening to me?”

But all that came out was: “Shit, bro, you SEE that rack?” He slapped his own thickening thigh, the soft slap replaced with a hard, meaty thud. His gym shorts tented, the pathetic outline of his growing erection impossible to miss. It felt…wrong. The idea of Broadway boys with toned arms and glitter eyeshadow did nothing now.

He needed babes. Porn star ones. Lip fillers. Spray tans. Boobs you could fuck. God, he wanted to shove his face between ‘em.

His old thoughts tried to rise, the ones that used to dissect Tennessee Williams monologues and cry over The Normal Heart, but they were getting trampled under slogans like:

His bed wasn’t his bed anymore. His signed Rent poster? Gone. In its place: a giant poster of himself. Shirtless. Oiled pecs. Sunglasses. His own signature scrawled over the bottom: “Stay cool ;) Darren.”

“D-Darren? What the hell—?”

The voice in his head wasn’t his anymore.

“Yeah, babe. Darren fuckin’ Criss. But not that sweet little Glee boy version. Nah, we grew the fuck up. Hollywood, bro. Gotta get dirty if you wanna win.”

Tyler stumbled over to his cracked dorm mirror—and it was him, but not him. Darren Criss. Not the soft, smiling boy from Broadway galas. This was greasy, arrogant Darren. Jaw sharp. Hair messy in that fake-styled way. Slight bags under his eyes, like he hadn’t slept because of parties or drugs or both. Tattoos he didn’t remember getting inked around his forearms, stupid phrases like “Grind Don’t Stop” in aggressive, jagged letters.

His lips curled into a cocky half-smirk.

And then came the thoughts.

“Broadway’s for fags and fatties. Film’s where the money’s at. And the pussy.”

His stomach twisted. He didn’t think that. He didn’t believe that.

Except—another thought pushed in like a drunk guy at a club line:

“God, that bitch on set yesterday. Lip fillers for DAYS. Bet she’d gag on my dick, eyes all runny n’ shit. Fuckin’ love that.”

He opened his mouth to scream—and belched. Loud, deep, vulgar. It reeked of cheap beer and protein powder. Had he been drinking? He hated beer.

No. No, he loved it now.

“Bud Light’s for pussies. Gimme real American shit. And a babe with fake tits on her knees, beggin’ for it.”

His hand scratched at his chest—hairy. Thick, dark hair matting his pecs, curling outward. His nails were dirty. His cuticles chewed.

The transformation wasn’t just physical. It was mental. A complete, greasy reprogramming of who Tyler was supposed to be.

Darren Criss but awful. Crude. Cocky. MAGA-voting, gym-bro, coke-bingeing celebrity scum. And God help him—he liked it.

His reflection adjusted his waistband, tugging it lower to show the lazy V-line of his abs.

And then came the voice — not in his head this time, but from his own disgusting lips, spoken like he’d been saying it for years:

“Fuckin’ Hollywood, man. Bunch of queers and libs. Someone’s gotta remind these bitches who’s king.”

He was king. He could feel it: the entitlement. The smug, sexual cruelty of a man who could ruin lives with a wink and walk away laughing. No one could stop him now. Not agents. Not producers. Not #MeToo. He was untouchable.

He adjusted his crotch crudely, scratched his hairy gut, then spit into the trash can. His spit sizzled. It smelled like whiskey.

On his phone: missed calls from agents. DM requests from OnlyFans girls. One text: “Miss ur cock, Darren. Wanna swallow u again.”

His reflection winked, flashing a white, chemically-whitened grin that made Tyler want to puke — and made Darren want to grind on someone’s girlfriend at a club.

“God, I’m a fuckin’ legend.”

And Tyler? Gone. Just an old part in an old script no one ever read.

This wasn’t Glee anymore.

It was Hollywood.

And Darren was ready to be a star.

[yeahmaybepossibly]

Shit I can’t stop thinking about that guy at the gym. So not my type. Looked like such a dumb gym… bro…

Ugh. Fuck. Why does just thinking that word turn me on. It’s sick. Guys like that are such douchebags. But the way he said it to me… swaggered by me… sweaty and thick… looked me in the eyes so directly, called me a… bro…

Mmm yeahhh. Fuuuck. Why am I so turned on. Gotta cool off. Sure, his body was hot. Fine. I admit it. Thick shoulders. Thick pecs. Mmmmm. Bet he has a sic tight abs too. And those biceps. I could never get arms like that. Aww man. What I wouldn’t give…. But no… that’s not me. What’s gotten into me. Im not into that right? I’m nothing like a swaggering, cocky, hot… bro…

Mmmmm man. If only. I mean, I have my priorities but wouldn’t hurt if I put in some more muscle. Lift heavier. Like, I got a good pump going today. Damn like I feel bigger. Everywhere. Nothing like that guy. No… that fucking hot stud with that dumb smirk. Can’t believe that guy noticed me. I mean I’m startin to bulk up and all, making some good gains… but for him to call me out… call me a bro…

Uhhhhhh fuuuck yeah. Like why shouldn’t he? I’m looking good. Feeling good. Got such a good pump and shit this water feels good. And like I swear I’m bigger today. Gym’s really paying off. Mmmm yeah. I gotta track down that hot stud from before and show him what I got. Can’t stop thinkin about muscle. Huhu I’m such a gym bro.

[yeahmaybepossibly]

Jakey, Baby…

There was nothing particularly extraordinary about Jake. Twenty-six, decently fit from his days of playing college soccer, a little dense but well-meaning, he worked a construction job by day and spent his evenings on the couch playing Call of Duty and demolishing value packs of chicken nuggets. He was straight as an arrow, and proud of it—not in a preachy way, just in a “bro, I don’t know, girls are hot” kind of way.

His best friend, Darren, on the other hand, was as gay as a sequined drag brunch. The two had been friends since middle school, sharing everything from pizza slices to brutal gym sessions. Darren had always been a little obsessed with Jake—not that Jake ever noticed. Or if he did, he assumed it was just Darren being “funny gay.” But Darren was done pining. He had discovered something. Something powerful. Something shiny. Something… swirly. It was a hypnotic pendant. He got it from a “totally reputable” website with a checkout page that included glitter GIFs and an auto-playing ABBA song. But it worked. He tested it on a barista and got three free coffees. The time had come.

“Bro, what’s that spinny thing?” Jake asked, eyes already starting to glaze as the spiral of light twirled in Darren’s hand.

“Just look into my eyes, bro,” Darren said, grinning.

Darren sat across from Jake in the apartment’s living room, the lights dimmed, the air thick with the scent of sandalwood incense and anticipation. On the coffee table between them, the hypnotic pendant swayed slowly, the swirling glass catching what little light remained like a lure in deep water. Jake, in his gym shorts and a tank top that had clearly seen better days (and maybe a few too many days without detergent), slouched comfortably on the couch.

“So, wait,” Jake said, blinking lazily, “what’s this thing supposed to do again?”

“It’s just for relaxation, bro. You’ve been so tense lately,” Darren said, voice smooth, velvety, almost coiling around Jake’s thoughts. “Just watch the pendant. You trust me, right?”

“Yeah, dude, of course. You’re my best bro,” Jake mumbled, his voice already losing its edge, like he was being lulled into a warm bath.

The pendant swung left… right… left… and Jake’s eyes followed, a little slower with each swing.

“That’s right,” Darren said. “Just breathe with me. In… and out… good. Just like that.”

Jake’s head tilted slightly. His shoulders dropped. His lips parted in a dumb little smile. It was working.

“You’re feeling good, aren’t you, Jakey?”

“…Yuh,” Jake slurred slightly, pupils shrinking to slivers. “Kinda floaty, bro…”

“Good. Now just listen to my voice. You’re going to feel your body start to… change. Nothing to worry about. Just let go.”

Jake’s breath hitched. The first thing to change was his muscles. His shoulders began to widen with a soft cracking sound, like joints sliding into a more perfect alignment. His arms swelled, biceps ballooning under his skin, veins pushing to the surface. His chest popped outward, tight and full, thick slabs of pec-meat jiggling slightly before firming up.

“Dude, m’arms feel… swole,” Jake mumbled, blinking slowly. “Like I just did a million curls…”

“You did, Jakey. You’ve always been this big. You’ve always loved lifting.”

“Yeah…” he said dreamily, staring down at his new bulk. “I… love lifting…”

Then came the hair. Strands darkened with oil from old sweat began to lighten, shimmer, and lift. As if bleached by endless summers of shirtless beach volleyball and poolside flirting, his hair morphed into a thick, flawless golden blonde. Each strand lay just right—no product, no effort, just himbo perfection.

Jake giggled softly, reaching up and running his beefy fingers through his new golden locks.

“Bro, m’hair’s like… surfer hot now.”

“That’s because you’re meant to be hot, Jakey. You’re meant to be dumb and beautiful and gay.”

Jake paused.

“…Gay?”

Darren leaned forward, voice sinking deeper, richer.

“You love guys, Jake. You’ve always loved guys. You love how they smell, how they kiss, how they taste. You love flexing for them, touching them, being touched. You love me, Jakey. You’ve always been in love with me.”

Jake blinked slowly. The tension in his forehead melted. Thoughts rearranged themselves, clunky memories of high school girlfriends fading like old Polaroids left out in the sun. Replaced with visions of steamy locker rooms, flirtatious protein shake dates, and Darren—always Darren—smiling at him, touching his arm just a little too long.

“…You’re, like… my mancrush,” Jake whispered, blushing through a dopey smile. “My boyfriend…”

Darren smiled, his hand gently reaching out to guide Jake’s chin.

“Say it, Jakey. Say what you are.”

Jake’s blue eyes sparkled, utterly vacant of any past, any straightness, any awareness beyond the present.

“I’m your dumb, gay himbo,” he said proudly. “Your big, muscley, super stinky boytoy.”

And oh, he was so stinky. Because while his memories rewrote themselves, while his body became a Greek statue come to life and his brain simplified into a lovable, meat-headed mush—some things remained stubborn. Darren leaned in for a kiss—and immediately leaned back.

“Is that… yesterday’s deodorant?”

Jake blinked. “Nah, bro, it’s AXE Phoenix. Like, five sprays. Extra coverage.”

Darren gagged slightly. “Did you shower today?”

“…Didn’t wanna wash the gains off.”

Darren pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jakey, baby, we talked about this…”

Jake pouted, all 6’4” and 230 lbs of pouting golden god.

“But babe… AXE is, like… chemical soap. That counts, right?”

And so, Darren accepted his fate: he had created the perfect gay muscle himbo. Dumb, devoted, and devastatingly in love. But still somehow convinced Febreze was a substitute for laundry detergent.

[yeahmaybepossibly]

Bunch of Dicks

My roommate and his buds found out I was a sub and loved feet so one day the surrounded me trying to get me to worship them. I made a wish that my friend the Wishmaster heard Sure, might have though they were Dicks for treating me this way. I wanted to be able to enjoy them, but this was too much at one time. A flash came to the room and suddenly there I was.

My roommate and his buddies were now perfect dildos, my perfect Dildos, forever mine to be used at my leisure, who needs feet when I got Dicks? And the biggest that belonged to my roomie, I had seen him playing with it on occasions, I was never bold enough to suggest I help him out with it. Now I'd never have to feel awkward asking to play with it as now he was my new toy, however there was an extra dildo standing there and I couldn't figure out who that belonged to, in fact I soon learned they took on the look of their owners greatest kinks, including the thick butt plug I now owned, I would definitely have to work up to that one. After documenting their changes, I grabbed one and headed off to enjoy my day... I wonder if they're still aware in their new form. After all I could have sworn my roommate moaned as I used him. But that's crazy right, they're just rubber after all now? Right?

[yeahmaybepossibly]

Stepping up as stepdad

My stepdad was supposed to pick me up from soccer practice when I found him passed out in the driver's seat. He was a good for nothing day drinker and he already reeked of stale beer and sweat by noon.

I tried shaking him awake but he groaned, stretching his tatted arms.

I resisted the urge of looking at his bulge. He was so dominating with his size and attitude. I wanted to hate him, but I lusted after him. Even when he drank too much and he got loud and angry. The other day he teased me, taunting me that I was just a scrawny fag, all the while he strutted around without his shirt. I especially hated how turned on I was when I heard the moaning at night, listening to the bed creaking and the animalistic grunts.

Now he was right in front of me, unconscious to the world. I wanted to reach out to him to feel his beard, trace the curves of his veiny arms and hairy abs. I wanted to feel every part of his body, to explore each crevice and hole. Better yet, I wanted to be him. I could live a better life than him.

As I reached out, I felt a strange pull as something in him sucked me in. I couldn't resist and felt my hand plunge into his warm, sticky flesh. And soon I found my face buried within his sweaty pecs. For a moment, I struggled to breathe. The meaty muscles of his chest filling my nostrils and my mouth. The next moment, I felt my shoulders sink deeper into him and deeper until I felt my feet kicking in the air. With a slurping pop, I absorbed into my stepdad.

A moment later, I felt myself take a deep breath and sigh. I reached my large, manly hands to my face, stroking my new beard. I couldn't believe it. I was him. I grabbed handfuls of my biceps and squeezed the muscles. I checked myself out, rubbing my abs. Moreover, I felt how it was being him. I felt light headed and dizzy. I guess he was drunk and I was feeling it too. It made me reckless as I unslung his monster cock that plowed pussy. I gave it several quick strokes when everything crashed together and I shot a load all over the steering wheel. I let out a moan. I came too fast, but who fucking cared. I had his body now and I jerk off as much as I wanted. Who fucking cared if I forgot to pick up that faggy brat? I'm practically a god with my looks and muscles. Women would trip over themselves to suck me off. I was a goddamn alpha.

I wiped off the cum on the steering wheel, and some old part of me must've broken through, since I brought my hand up to my lips and licked clean the spilled seed. Mmm, I moaned. The salty sweet pearls melted in my mouth. I never knew cum tasted so good. Forget women, I thought, before my stepdad's homophobic thoughts resurfaced.

Whatever happened to me, the result was clear: it was a struggle of control between me and my stepdad. Who would prevail? And would my stepdad's body become a pussy-fucking stud or a cum-swallowing slut?

[yeahmaybepossibly]

Tags & Links (Open in Dashboard | Universal)

Click here for an alternative Tags & Links page (Open in Archive | Web Only)

▮ male transformation ▫ male possession ▫ male body swap ▫ male hypnosis

▮ muscle growth ▫ muscle loss ▫ muscle theft ▫ weight gain ▫ merge ▫ bodysuit

▮ age progression ▫ age regression ▫ hair growth ▫ race change

▮ mental change ▫ mind control ▫ dumber ▫ language change ▫ accent change

▮ reality change ▫ identity theft ▫ role reversal

▮ straight to gay ▫ gay to straight ▫ female to male

▮ daddy tf ▫ bear tf ▫ jock tf ▫ himbo tf ▫ bodybuilder tf ▫ otter tf ▫ twink tf ▫ redneck tf ▫ stoner tf ▫ ginger tf ▫ surfer tf ▫ cowboy tf ▫ preppy tf ▫ pornstar tf ▫ stripper tf ▫ military tf ▫ cop tf ▫ lumberjack tf ▫ pirate tf ▫ lifeguard tf ▫ celebrity tf ▫ animal tf ▫ inanimate tf ▫ animate tf ▫ upside down tf ▫ devolution

▮ hunk ▫ frat boy ▫ blue-collar ▫ southern ▫ wrestling ▫ go-go boy ▫ cub ▫ pup ▫ slob ▫ pig ▫ slave

▮ chronivac ▫ clothing ▫ jockstrap ▫ underwear ▫ cap ▫ shoes ▫ singlet ▫ harness ▫ collar ▫ piercing

▮ fetish ▫ musk ▫ armpit ▫ feet ▫ sweat ▫ nipples ▫ milking

▮ beer ▫ alcohol ▫ smoking ▫ cigar ▫ leather ▫ latex ▫ tattoo ▫ wish gone wrong ▫ plan gone wrong

▮ unwilling ▫ loss of body control ▫ corruption ▫ humiliation ▫ debt ▫ punishment

▮ bouncyboytfs ▫ changingmen ▫ cinaedefuri ▫ doublesidedtf ▫ dreaming-star20 ▫ dumb-and-jocked ▫ dutchutch ▫ evantyde ▫ greyswap ▫ idesofrevolution ▫ johnbrand ▫ makingrealalphas ▫ maleageprogression ▫ maleagetransformation ▫ maletransform ▫ mrwavellswaps ▫ newyoutf ▫ rotguttheclown ▫ shapedbydesire ▫ tfcaptions ▫ tfhuman123 ▫ tfstation ▫ the-craftsman ▫ TravisTheDemon ▫ tyranitartf ▫ ultram0th

==========Archival Blogs==========

TFCaptions Archive

Dumb-and-jocked Archive

[yeahmaybepossibly]

Never Going Back

“What’s wrong? You agreed to this, remember?” Kent remarked, trying to hide his budding smirk behind that handsome new bearish face of his.

“What?!” Warren shrieked in a high pitched voice, much unlike the deep baritone he was used to hearing. “I agreed to have some fun! I didn’t agree to… to THIS!” His voice cracked with a mix of anger and fear as he gestured down at the skinny twinkish body he now possessed. A far cry from the huge manly body this man had stolen from him.

“This is fun.” Kent replied. “For me anyway.” He couldn’t hold back that giddy look on his face any longer as he looked down at his new body with wonder. Seeing a forest of dark chest hair covering his huge pecs, filling him with a strong sense of pride. Almost as strong as his giant new biceps which he couldn’t help giving a quick flex. Adoring how the bulged with strength. “Fuuuuck yeahh…” He groaned in his newly deep and commanding voice before reaching his hands up towards his chest. “Mmmmphff… I should’ve done this years ago!” He groped and squeezed at his heavy new pecs with a lustful grin while his former body looked on in horror.

“But I… you… you can’t! T-that’s mine!” Warren shouted, flustered at the sight of the hunky body he owned mere moments ago checking itself out right in front of his eyes. He could still hardly wrap his head around it.

“Not anymore you little bitch. This hairy, beefy, sweaty body belongs to me now. Period.” Kent stated, using the power of his commanding new voice. “These huge juicy arms…” he brought each one of them close enough so that he could kiss both biceps with his bearded lips. “These thick trunks you called legs…” He gave each thigh a quick smack, watching the muscle wobble slightly. “These enormous furry pecs…” He proceeded to effortlessly bounce his pecs, looking down with devilish glee as the hairy muscle obeyed him. “And of course this fat raging cock!” Kent’s hand swiftly sank towards his crotch where it heartily gripped the dick shaped bulge in his underwear with a smirk.

“Uffff… fuck I’ve never had one this big before.” He commented as his newly acquired appendage only continued to grow and fatten as he got hornier. “It’s gotta be at least twice the length of that last dick I had. And definitely girthier.” Kent slipped his finger under the waistband of his underwear and pulled them open so he could get a proper look at his new equipment. “Mmmmmm… daddy dick…” he mumbled. “All mine.”

———

About an hour prior Warren had been sitting inside his local gay bar where he usually went at least once a week. He was a big man to say the least. Massive muscles bulging from head to toe, covered with a modest layer of soft fat that resulted in a thick and imposing physique. A body that never ceased to stretch whatever clothes he put on with its mass. And to top it all off he was covered in manly fur that was most prominent on his chest and belly. All that combined with his sharp masculine face and beard made him the prime example of a muscle bear. The type that could have anyone on their knees and calling him daddy with a snap of his fingers. And he knew it.

Most nights when he went to the bar he’d end up taking someone home with him. Sometimes he’d take other bears like himself for a good flip fuck and other times he’d take twinks for him to dominate instead. Tonight was the latter as a small hairless man who introduced himself as Kent began flirting with him. They talked for a while, clearly eyeing each other up in the process, and before long Warren had one of his big beefy arms slung around the twink’s shoulder as he guided the youthful looking man out of the bar and towards his place.

As soon as they were in the door, they began kissing and ripping off their clothes. Kent finally got a good look at the gigantic hairy body Warren had, not so effectively, been hiding. Soon enough Warren was picking Kent up as if he weighed nothing at all before carrying the twink towards the bedroom. But, as soon as Warren sat down on the bed with Kent in his lap, the impossible happened.

Kent’s eyes began to glow a hauntingly deep shade of red while staring directly into Warren’s eyes. The bearish man found himself unable to look away, as if he were locked into Kent’s gaze. He tried to move but his body wouldn’t respond. It was then that the world around him began to grow fuzzy. Everything around him was spinning and fading as his body seemed weightless for a moment. Only for reality to come crashing back down moments later. His senses kicking right back in only now he felt much smaller and lighter than before. And as his vision started to focus again, the reason as to why became clear. No longer was he looking across at the face of the twinkish man he’d picked up from the bar but rather he was looking at his own bearded face grinning maliciously back at him!

———

“H-how? How did you do this!?” Warren shouted, demanding an answer from the man who’d just stolen his body.

Kent looked up at him, still groping his new and improved cock. “I’m a jumper.” He stated blankly.

“A… what?”

“A Jumper.” Kent repeated. “It means I can hop from body to body as I please.” He added while giving his new beard a curious scratch, enjoying the feeling of his newfound facial fur.

Warren looked on in disbelief. “But that’s not-”

“Possible?” Kent scoffed as he finished the other man’s sentence. “I think the evidence speaks for itself.” He said while standing up from the bed and gesturing down at his thick muscle bear body while his new dick strained aggressively against his underwear.

Warren couldn’t help eyeing up the bulge he used to own. Hell, he couldn’t help eyeing up every inch of his former body as this body snatcher paraded it around. He’d always thought he was hot but seeing it from the outside was something else entirely. And not only that but seeing his old body tower over him. Why was it making him so… horny.

“I’ve been jumping from body to body ever since I was 20 year old.” Kent began. “I always found the feeling of taking over another person's life to be exhilarating. But honestly I only ever went for guys like me. My original body was skinny and hairless so for the longest time I’ve only ever swapped with dudes who were just as twinky as my original body was. I thought jumping into anything different would be… uncomfortable and strange. It’s hard to explain.” Kent looked down at his giant new body again before stealing a glance at his new reflection in a mirror across the room. “But you proved me hella fucking wrong!” He exclaimed.

With a giddy smile, Kent couldn’t help bouncing his pecs again. He never imagined being able to do that would be so fun. Or so erotic. “I just thought that since I’m always getting fucked by big hairy daddies that it might be interesting to try jumping into one for once. And fuck was I right!” He groaned while giving his nipples a strong pinch. “I feel so powerful! So manly! So…” Kent took a deep inhale through his nose, absorbing the scent of his new body. Allowing his nose to drift towards one of his armpits as he rose an arm up to expose the sweaty pit. The strong musky scent permeated his nostrils in a way that made Kent’s new cock jump. “So fuckin smelly!” He finished.

“Come on! Fuckin smell it!” He shouted at Warren. “I know you want to, you little bitch! Smell your former scent!”

Before Warren even had a chance to respond, Kent grabbed the back of his head and stuffed it into the sweaty armpit. Warren didn’t have a choice. He did as the body snatcher told and took an unwilling sniff of the pits he used to own. And it was… heavenly!

“There you go…” Kent grinned.

Warren couldn’t explain why but he quickly found himself digging his nose deeper into the pit. Snorting up the musky aroma he used to give off greedily. The manly scent was so addictive and overpowering. So much so that he found his new tiny dick starting to leak a little precum…

Seeing this, Kent pulled Warren out of his armpit with a triumphant look. “See? This isn’t so bad is it? Now you finally get a chance to worship the body you got so many other men to worship for you.” He stepped backwards a little before sitting himself back down on the bed. “All this huge hairy muscle. Just waiting to be touched and admired by you.”

Warren didn’t need to answer. The look on his face said it all. As much as he still wanted to be angry right now, he couldn’t help being turned on like hell.

“B-but if I do everything you ask then… will you give my body back?”

Kent laid back on the bed, sprawling out his mass and loving how much area his new body took up. “Hell no!” He cackled. “Now I know what it feels like to be huge and hairy, I plan on keeping this daddy bear body of yours for a good few years minimum! And when I eventually do jump again there’s no way in hell I’m going back to a body like that. When the day comes I’ll be hopping into another hot daddy! And another one after that!” Kent watched as the realisation of the situation hit Warren like a ton of bricks. “Sorry my man. I can’t thank you enough for the body but you’re never getting it back. You’re just gonna have to get used to being a skinny ass twink.”

Warren couldn’t believe it. In just a moment his body had been stolen from him like it was nothing. And now, assuming he stuck around, he’d have to watch this imposter use his former body however he saw fit. And once he got bored of it, Kent would just jump again leaving some other random man stuck in his body and parading it around instead. “But-” Warren began but he was sharply cut off.

“But nothing! I’m Warren Knox now!” Kent’s voice rumbled through the house, shortly followed by him kicking off his underwear and freeing his fat new cock at last. “Now get on this bed and worship your fuckin daddy.” He added, his voice much calmer this time as he grinned stupidly while giving his enormous biceps another flex to entice the red faced twink before him.

“Yes sir…” Warren submitted, knowing there was no other option for him. Conceding at last to crawling onto the bed on top of his former body. Now getting a true scope for just how massive it looked from inside the skinny twink body he now found himself in.

“Gooooood.” Kent grumbled as Warren began to rub and worship his biceps like the good little bitch he was now. “Once you’re done worshiping my muscles and licking daddy’s pits clean, I might let you take a ride on this cock if you’re lucky. You’d like that wouldn’t you? Getting your hole stretched by the cock you used to call your own. Getting filled with your own load. my load.”

Warren could hardly even answer. He knew he should be fighting against this. Trying to force a solution out of this body snatcher to find any possible way he could to take his body back. And yet he only found himself able to nod in agreement to what Kent was saying.

“I knew you would, boy.” Kent growled as he grabbed Warren’s head again but this time he squished the smaller man’s face between the thick hairy muscle pillows he now called pecs instead. Smothering him with how huge they were. “I’m gonna drain these fat balls into your ass every single night.” He whispered. “Until I jump into another daddy of course. After that you’ll have to beg whoever ends up in this body next to keep filling you.” Kent chuckled, already envisioning all the perverted fun he was gonna have in this body and every new dad body to come after.

[yeahmaybepossibly]

Reason to: Hookup with That Twink

Because Jurgen need Matthias "Matt" Bauer to become part of his roster of young and aspiring bodybuilder he coached. Yet, he noticed that the boy knew how everyone paid attention to him and hyped up his potential. That caused Matt to highly viewed his value and he acted like he could hire someone with more credential than Jurgen, which of course pissed Jurgen's off. He's a literal former national champion, yes he might not be the youngest or most in-demand coach around, but he got tons of experience that he really can share to the youngsters. But, of course, deep down, he wanted Matt because he saw a future champion in him in ways he didn't see his current roster could achieve, so of course he's competitive about wanting to secure a partnership with the young talent that seemed to be closer to some of Jurgen's younger rivals

Well, Jurgen is not the type that accepted rejection on his wishes or demand easily and he got just the right tools that no one else owned to sway Matt to join his crew. It involved spiking Matt protein shake which then caused the young bodybuilder to look like he's seen a ghost and so sickly, he certainly could not and should not push for a workout session. As he attempted to walk to the locker room, he stumbled upon some machine and even dropped to the floor yet he steadied himself and telling people to not worry about him.

As soon as he entered the locker room, not only he eventually lost his balance, he also lose his consciousness and then the freak show started as something leaked out from him. It was the essence that made Matt.....well, Matt, and just like his consciousness, it was also practically vanished into thin air leaving only a crumpled skin for the submissive, people-pleasing twink the chance to slip into.

Jurgen met Rene from a casual hookup from a longing stare in the locker room that intrigued Jurgen.

The one time thing turned into quite a regular encounter and spilled out from the gym into other places including Jurgen's home. Jurgen slept with Rene weekly and somehow, the 23 years old revealed a lot about himself like his desire to be bigger (hence the occasional workout he did) as he wanted to be able to attract more DILF, his struggle to maintain his job and keep himself afloat in the economy, or how he's such a people-pleaser, he would do anything asked out of him. Jurgen decided to use all that info for his benefit as he offered Rene a chance of a lifetime

Rene instantly leaped with joy upon seeing Matt empty and lifeless skin when he walked into the locker room after Jurgen's texted him to enter the gym from the back door reserved only for the employees.

It stirred his cock to its full-length watching Rene's frail bony body easily slipped into the suit yet managed to fill it and even flexed Matt's muscles with ease and giving it a sense of.....density. Jurgen's eyes watched intently every single pressure and adjustment that Rene inflicted to Matt's body from the inside. The most arousing moment for him was how Rene's cock traveled down Matt's lower abdomen before finding the entrance to Matt's cock sheath which surged to life as soon as Rene's filled it. He knew the twink's 4 inchers that always shoot out its load a tad too early everytime they fucked and to see how it controlled Matt's 7.5 inchers soft cock caused him to leak pre because Matt's cock literally bounced and twitched looking very much intimidating despite literally being controlled by a pathetic little wimp.

As the rest of Matt's crumpled skin turned to life once more, Jurgen prepared himself to welcome the new Matt's as he stared at Rene's twinkling oceanic blue eyes for one last time before he submerged his head entirely into the void left behind by Matt's. Craning his neck and arching his body to ensure full assimilation to the meatsuit, Matt's then stood up with a grin on his face as he said

"Hey there dude, you enjoyed what you seen?" Matt said with the sarcastic "dude" emphasized

"Ohhh, I did, I really did. Call me Coach from now on though,"

"Okay, Coach. So, what do you think of my form? Anything you want to inspect first? How far should I cut? The first competition to get my pro card of the season is in a month, I wanna know your opinion," he said seductively as he purposefully flexed his muscles and exaggerated his arches

"My opinion is that you are perfect, boy. These glutes.....mmmhhhh....fuck, you put on some insane work there already. Flex that biceps for me, double bi,"

So he did, flexing both of his arms and then emphasized his triceps afterward.

"Mmmm......so round. So perfect. This must be 16 inches or something. More room to grow but you're heading to the right direction. Now turn around and face me, I wanna see you spread that lats from the mirror,"

As he turned around, Jurgen couldn't hold himself as he lunged on Matt's face, both of them kissed passionately in the locker room with no care in the world. Jurgen's finally felt a sense of relief that he might really hit the jackpot with this one. A merger of both worlds, a star pupil with form so perfect that is also a passionate and obedient sex partner? Life's only going to get better after this, he thought to himself as he groped Matt's firm ass and tried to pry it open with his fingers.

---

Within minutes after his attempt to rest, the previously pale and sickly Matthias walked out from the locker room refreshed and looking like he's ready to smash his workout from the perspective of others. Jurgen followed behind him with a smug smile knowing he got the best of both worlds, his wishes and desire, as always, never failed to materialize. What he wanted, he got it, including Matt's Bauer himself

[yeahmaybepossibly]

White Shirt, Blue Jeans

I'm telling you man, all you need is a white tee and some blue denim and you've got that hot classic look ready to go. Alright, alright, maybe you need to have the perfect bod to really sell the package, but don't worry, the store told me it all comes with the purchase. Just watch. They even recommended me to buy a larger size since you can fill them out as much as you want. All you gotta do is flex a little. Like this! O-oh... fuck... that was quick. L-look dude my arm's blowing up... giant meaty cannons, stretching these sleeves to their limit. Yeah, shoulders and forearms are getting nice and big too. I might have to look into their sleeveless options now, heh? They said the shirts leave loads of room in the front so you have to ugh... remember to fill... them.... out...! F-fuck sorry bro, didn't mean to give you a face full of my pecs, goddamn they're like tits now, look at them jiggle. See, with the white color you really get that sexiness. Skin tight, translucent fabric - unh - brushing against my nipples. Can't forget about the jeans either, giving me a nice big bubble butt. Thighs rubbing up against each other, calves squashed tight, there's barely any room left bro. Shit, I can hardly stand, huhu. A-Ah...? Down there too? Ooo, I can feel my cock throbbing, balls getting s-so heavy... Aw fuck... I think I burst the zipper on these pants, huhu, guess they couldn't handle the beast. Fuck, why do I feel so horny...? Bro, bro you gotta help me, this feels too good. I-I should have read the warning tags. W-wait, where did you get that cap? You weren't supposed to - ugh -find that. Bro, hold on, wait wait, the store said the caps make you more- Ooooooooogh. Nooooooooo... Stoppppphh...

huhuhuhu... look at my tits bro.

[yeahmaybepossibly]

Coach needs a body.

I was chilling in the collage’s gym, exercising as we were suppose to in the lesson . I exiled myself from others at that time to be more focused on my gains that I’ve been trying to improve for a while as I was the least strongest on the team and needed to improve for football.

That was until coach primarily came over to me in a hurry. “Dan, please. Come follow me. I need you.” He said, panting and near collapse. “I can’t explain here and I’m running out of time please!” He remarked and I accepted. He led me into the locker rooms where nobody was there. He locked the door behind us and put the keys on the bench.

“I need to borrow your body Dan. I can’t believe I’m saying that but I am. Just stay in here for 5 minutes in my body that’s all. Do what you want in my body but don’t leave and don’t tell anyone please you are my last hope” he said frantically and sweating from the head down as I looked at him in bewilderment. “Uhh...-“I said “Close enough. Hold on for a second this will feel rough.” He said, putting a odd mirror contraption in the Centre of us, it started to spin and admit odd colours and turned my vision white. As my vision dilated I saw myself sitting in front of me. “Thank you! Thank you! You don’t know how much good you’ve done Dan! Thank you! I’m sorry, good you’ve done "Coach"” he said, then grabbing his keys and rushing out, locking the door again with me stuck in the changing rooms in Coach’s body

[yeahmaybepossibly]

Awaken the Beast

10...

11...

12.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You grab his chin, pulling his gaze towards you.

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

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

[yeahmaybepossibly]

“Mmm, your brother’s body tastes so good! I made sure I hopped into him before he hopped in the shower. He’s fuckin’ delicious!”

“Stop it!” Tyler seethed.

“Oh come on, you know you don’t want me to stop. Come here, maybe you want a taste yourself?”

“But he’s my brother…”

“Yeah, your incredibly HOT brother,” he stroked his borrowed dick a few times and gave Tyler a wink, “Don’t act like you don’t want this. Come on, just try it.”

Tyler couldn’t believe what he was about to do, but at the same time, he couldn’t resist it. He sat down at the edge of the couch and took another good look at his brother, Jacob, laying there looking sexy as fuck. But it wasn’t his brother. It was his best friend, Dylan, who had passed away just a couple of weeks ago, and was now a ghost who could apparently possess anyone he wanted. It was just all so much to take in.

“Stop thinking about it,” Dylan said, “Come on, help me out. I never thought I’d be able to get off again, but now you can help me do it in your brother’s body. So… whaddya say, bro?”

Tyler closed his eyes and exhaled. After one more pause, he leaned over and took his brother’s cock in his mouth.

“Mmm,” Dylan moaned with Jacob’s masculine voice, “That feels so good, bro.”

“I’ve been wanting to do this for a really long time,” Tyler confessed as he began to kiss all up and down his brother’s body.

“I know,” Dylan said, “That’s why I chose to hop into him first. Your dad’s next, by the way.”

Tyler’s eyes shot wide open.

“Yeah,” Dylan said, “I know about that little fetish of yours, too.”