Halloween: Latino Cowboy ● Arab Prince ● Pumpkin Heads ● Wolfboy
Christmas: A gift for you, bro
Other: Frat Jock
TF Seqs. (by type):
Asian 1 ● Asian 2 ● Asian 3 ● Asian Flu 8
Black 1
Latino 1
Arab 1 ● Arab 2 ● Arab 3 ● Arab 4 ● Sheikh 1 ● Sheikh 2
Writing
Asian Flu: Case Study ● Research Report: Subject J ● Subject IND1 ● Subject IND2-G
Nasl Sheikh: Intro 1 2 3 4 5
Lycan-virus: Halloween Heat
Anomalous Entities: AE-786 ● AE-919
Other: Pride Month
Requests/Asks (by most recent):
Arab Frat ● Muscular ● Viking ● Viking ● Bl4ck3d ● Patrick Leblanc ● Bodybuilder/Twink/Daddy ● High School Takeover ● Flamboyant Takedown ● Hairier ● White/Asian/Latino ● Arab/Asian/Indian ● Scarlett & Tyler ● Support Help Line ● The Big Play ● Arab/Black/Latino ● Thailand and Malaysia ● Investigation Report: Office Outbreak ● Muscular/Chav/Eboy ● Classy ● Black/Portuguese ● Powerlifter/Papi/Arab ● Dumb Jock ● Black/Asian/Latino ● Bieber ● Fit/Bodybuilders/Arab ● Beards ● Arab ● Indian/Japanese/Nordic ● Filipino/Arab/Lightskin ● Sikh/French/Samoan ● Hairy ● Brazilian/Arab/Black/Latino ● Indian/Arab/Asian/Black
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Cory had gone over the plan in his head. He was going to book it down the hall, get his bag from his locker, find an open exit and get the hell out of dodge. It was a lot easier said than done, some sort of weird virus had taken his school by storm. Given that the virus was only affecting men and he goes to an all boys school, it took only a day for the entire school to be fully infected.
The outbreak started when he was in Pre-Calc. He was sitting in the front of the class when he heard a kid in the back shout “GET OFF OF ME!” When he turned around he saw Levi, the most stereotypical jock, grabbing one of their classmates and then he watched as within a matter of seconds the classmate turned into a big, muscular meathead, just like Levi. The weird thing was that as the kid grew he let out a loud echoing fart that was almost cartoonish as it was a bright green hue.
Cory couldn’t help but watch as the two students grabbed more and more students slowly turning most of the room into Hulk-like teens each letting out their own ripe torrent of gas as they grew. He ran out of the class and as he looked back into the classroom saw his teacher get grabbed and saw him turn too. Running down the hall with only a few others who escaped the class, Cory watched as a door right next to him flew open. It knocked down one of the students he was with, and before anyone could react this absurdly big man came out and grabbed the student who was knocked to the floor. Flailing to escape the kid screamed “HELP ME PLEASE ANY-“ but was cut off as suddenly “FRAAAAP” a foul green cloud was expelled from his butt cheeks and the space around him filled with the fart funk. He had to watch as the newly transformed Jock was released and let out a loud “HUHUHUH” before lunging at another boy.
Running further down the hall and into a classroom that looked empty, Cory bursted in and was met with the lingering smell of stale farts, he quickly ran to hide behind a desk. Glancing up at the whiteboard he saw that he was in Mr.Jack’s room. Cory loved Mr.Jack and also knew that his best friend Mikey has his class right now. Although there was no one in the room, Cory whispered loudly enough to be heard “Mikeyyyy, are you in hereeee?”. No response, so he whispered it again. He heard rustling from the other side of the room and saw as a cabinet opened and miraculously Mikey emerged. Filled with relief that he wasn’t alone and that his best friend was uninfected, Cory ran to Mikey but Mikey stayed put and put his finger to his mouth. Confused, Cory slowed down and noticed Mikey pointing to the room’s closet. Cory asked Mikey “What is going on dude?” and Mikey didn’t respond, electing just to put his finger back up to his mouth. Mikey gestured to the room’s door, trying to give the hint that they needed to leave but Cory said “Mikey! Dude! We can’t go out there, it’s crazy outside!” Alerted by the noise Cory made, the closet began to make noise, and then something on the other side began to bang on it. Unfortunately for the two boys the door didn’t hold for very long and when the door quickly came down out strode a buff but not huge young guy, he looked no older than 19 but he had a striking resemblance to Mr.Jack. What was even stranger was that he was wearing one of Mr.Jack’s ties around his neck.
He looked at the boys and dumbly chuckled as he suddenly rushed at them and they were forced to dance around classroom desks and chairs in an effort to avoid him. Running for the door the two boys made it out barely as Jack barreled through the desks not paying them any mind. Slamming the door behind them they took down the hall again looking for a safe haven.
Making down the hall and into a utility closet the two boys caught their breath as they leaned on the cluttered shelves. The boys told each other what had happened to them and that is when Cory learned that Mr.Jack was giving a test and was walking through the aisles when Miles, one of the school’s wrestlers, grabbed Mr.Jack and wouldn’t let go. Mr.Jack tried to escape and was calling for help just like the kid in the hall when suddenly he let out an absolutely putrid fart, worse than Mikey had ever smelled, and fell silent. It only took a little bit of time until Mr.Jack turned into what the two boys saw in the classroom. Mikey went on to say that the boys sitting near Mr.Jack and Miles began coughing until they let out their own less putrid farts and transformed too. Mikey ended up hiding in a large cabinet while the rest of the class was chased out of the class by the newly minted jocks. He had eventually slipped out of the cabinet and ended up trapping Mr.Jack in the closet, and for whatever reason he was incapable of opening up the door, Mikey hadn’t locked it since he didn’t have the key and he had nothing to block the door. From comparing each other's stories the two of you deduced that inhaling Jock Gas will transform you into a jock yourself and that once transformed the person has all intelligence zapped from their brain, essentially turning them into a Jock Zombie.
The two of you then proceeded to start coming up with a plan on how to escape. They needed to get to their lockers to retrieve their things, mainly they needed their car keys which were stored away in their backpacks kept in their lockers. They also need to find a viable exit given that Jock Zombies were roaming the campus everywhere. Mikey’s locker was on the opposite side of the school, and Cory’s locker was on the second floor and the boys found themselves on the first. As they were getting ready to open the door to go get their bags, that’s when it happened. Mikey’s stomach growled and clutched his stomach, feeling something bad was happening Cory, filled with worry, asked “Mikey…? What's wrong bud?”, “I…I don’t know…My stomach…it feels…BRAAAAAP” Mikey fell silent. He was turning before Cory’s very eyes, his best friend was turning into a jock. The boys didn’t realize it but all the time Mikey spent hiding away in the fart-filled classroom was enough to infect him, it just took time to transform him into a jock. Quickly rushing out of the utility closet before he could smell Mikey’s rancid Jock Gas, all Cory could do was watch as his best friend was turned into a big, gassy idiot. Cory watched through the tiny window the door had. He watched as Mikey grew beefier and beefier as the window slowly got clouded up by the green hue of the Jock Gas.
Cory was devastated by the loss of his friend, Mikey was so kind and smart and it was all stripped away because he breathed in a stupid fart. Cory couldn’t believe that any of this was happening but he still knew that he had to go on and escape. He began to cautiously make his way to the stairs, he passed by a couple of jocks but they seemed occupied, already trying to get to other nerds to turn them into Jock Zombies. Cory carefully made his way up the stairs and was able to get to his locker, which luckily was only a little ways down the hall from the staircase. He put in the combination and slowly opened up his locker and reached inside. grabbing his backpack, he quickly pulled it out but in doing so he dragged his water bottle out, and it fell to the floor. Letting out a deafening ringing sound, the metal water bottle noisily clanged to the floor. Cory knew that he was gonna have to run and hide before any dim-witted Jocks converged on his locker. He made his way back down the stairs and sighed a sigh of relief as the Jocks down on the first floor were still preoccupied with catching the students they were already focused on. As he began looking for an exit he could see that the main doors were wide open and there was no one around to stop him. But it was just his luck that one of his classmates from your Pre-Calc class tried to B-line it for those open doors. He had a Jock on his tail and it looked like the lanky student was gonna make it out when suddenly another jock wandered into the hallway as the student was looking behind him at how close the Jock tailing him was. The student ran right into the wandering Jock and fell flat on his back. Catching up as soon as he fell, the Jock chasing him squatted over the students face and Cory watched as a green fart cloud was forced right onto the students face. He couldn't bear to watch another innocent kid turn into a farting buffoon but as he looked away Cory knew that that exit was no longer a safe escape. Not since three Jocks are around it.
After scouting out a couple more exits, Cory finally found one that seemed like an easy escape. As he crouched his way towards it he heard a pair of footsteps behind him. He wanted to run away and get to the door but before he could even try he looked behind him. He was met with a fat, smelly Jock butt, the Jock had pulled his pants down enough to expose his bare ass. Cory was quickly dealt a face full of a hot, steamy, rank fart, contaminated with the virus turning all his peers into stinky Jocks. Falling to the ground, Cory began coughing and he realized who the Jock who just infected him was, it was Mikey.
Feeling like a failure, he couldn’t save Mikey and he couldn’t even save himself, Cory began to feel the effects of the noxious fumes take over his mind and body. He tried to apologize to Mikey for failing them both but all that got out was “Mikey…Im so…sor-PFFFBBBTTTT” He was done for, the fart he just released from his rapidly expanding ass was not only filled with his natural boy stink but it was also Cory releasing all of his intelligence, his insecurities, his memories, his fears, etc. Cory was no longer Cory. Cory was now a Jock Zombie, his only thoughts were about making more Jock Zombies and hanging out with his bros. Cory’s transformation quickly concluded as his body doubled in muscle mass and his body was transformed into a fart producing machine. He let out a moronic chuckle and started hunting for a nother person to Zombify.
Im seeing more and more "red pilled" tf blogs popping up or "red pilled" muscle worship blogs popping up.
Ive reported and blocked 3 today, I want to make something some clear here, maga / right wingers fuck off. Do not follow me do not engage with me or dm me.
Sexualising masculinity is one thing, its fine, its healthy, sexualising actual nazis and nazi linked behaviour is another,
> oh but its just a fetish
> oh but its just role play
> i just think the aesthetics are hot
> i just have a slave / humiliation kink
> Im gay but im not part of the lgbt community
Let me be clear, these are people who actively want queer people DEAD, this includes you maga dick chasing fags. These men that you idealise literally joke about torturing people like you behind closed doors, fuck not even behind closed doors. If you think that being masc, a gym bro and a more traditional man is gonna shield you from their judgement it wont, if they gained power tomorrow theyd bring back the gay panic law and would shoot you dead without a thought.
Queer people (not just gay men ALL QUEER PEOPLE) have had to fight for their rights, they have literally died at the hands of men like theses so you can be open about who you are. I dont know if its that a lot of younger gay men in america have gotten the luxary of the world set up for them by queer elders that makes them act like this, but as a guy who comes from a country where gay marriage wasnt legal when i was a teenager and queer people had a lot of issues when living together and I marched for my rights, I was part of the campaigns...
YOU SHOULD BE FUCKING EMBARRASSED TO SAY YOU FIND ANYTHING MAGA IS HOT.
Maga gays think only white men should have rights (<- actual words of a reported post)
Well ill one up em and say I think nazi cunts should be fucking scared to go outside!!
Hey guys, Ko-fi nuked my commissions page because of a bulge pic, so I don't have access to it anymore. I have set up another way to request commissions instead, which I think is better than relying on a 3rd-party service that doesn't like NSFW content anyway. On other news, I guess I accept Paypal now as well.
That's it, you can continue scrolling now.
For all of those that had a commission with me, don't worry, nothing has changed and I will be finishing them.
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Your only desirez should be getting as big as possible, dont worry how bad you reek, dont worry about the protein bar wrapper stuck to your ass, or the stains on your shirt.
Guys find it hot when you lazily belch mid sentence
The flashing text burns into your retinas: Ruin Yourself.
You try to look away from the screen, but a sudden, heavy heat pools in your gut, melting your frantic resistance into pure, helpless arousal. The seams of your grey sweatpants groan loudly as thick, dense slabs of muscle rapidly pack onto your thighs. A pungent wave of raw, unwashed jock musk hits the back of your throat; a thick, intoxicating cloud of stale sweat, heavy pheromones, and sour testosterone blooming directly from your expanding pores.
You gasp, horrified by how deeply your own sudden stench turns you on. Your fingers grow too meaty and clumsy to hold your phone, knocking a half-eaten protein bar onto the couch. As your massive, heavy glutes spread across the cushions, you feel the sticky foil wrapper plaster itself firmly against your sweaty, expanding ass.
Don't worry how bad you reek, the hypnotic programming drones in your emptying head.
You look down, watching your swelling pecs stretch a dark, greasy stain across your straining shirt. The panic fully evaporates, replaced by a mindless, throbbing need to just get bigger. Your traps rise to swallow your neck, and your jaw goes slack as a deep, rumbling belch erupts from your throat, leaving the sour taste of cheap whey and laziness on your tongue.
You don't even bother to cover your mouth. You just sit there, marinating in your own rank heat, stroking your swelling pecs, a perfectly ruined, brainless muscle slob.
hey, i am a Young Man with almost 19, i want to Know How i Would like If i transformed into be a hairy muscular man
While I cannot transform you per se, I can show you what you'd look like as a muscular hairy man. Though in my eyes you're already halfway there haha.
Let's not waste much time.
...
Ah, here you are.
Just another muscular hairy beast walking among this planet. Hope you like how you look because in this dimension you're pure jock meat. Got some nice, round pecs covered in dense, curly hair that spreads across your whole torso hehe. You live in the gym and smell like pure man here. I mean how else would you get a bod like that.
After another brutal sesh at the gym, here you are with your tank top long gone, chugging water like you own the place. Must be nice having all that sweat pouring down your hairy chest, soaking the thick black fur between your pecs and making it shine. You know... every guy in the gym is staring at you - I mean who wouldn't. You're basically like a masculine god on Earth, we all would want a piece of that.
Back in the locker room you can't help yourself. One hand slides down, groping that fat, heavy bulge through your jockstrap. The fabric is already stretched tight over your thick Latino cock and balls, the outline clear as day. This is you, bro. Just a big, hairy, muscular beast who lives for the pump and the pumping.
Hope you like how you look in this reality, I know I do. ;)
Please, you’ve gotta help me. I don’t know what’s happening. I need to get to the hospital or something maybe, I feel like I’m on fire. Everything aches and- HAUG. OW! Fuck. I keep hearing these voices man. Telling me to- no I can’t. It all started at the gym dude. I was getting changed after finishing my cardio for the day. Trying to be responsible after my last doc appointment. Okay, okay. I was in the sauna when this big guy comes in. Muscles for days man. He has these pecs that are off the charts. They’re thick, firm slabs of meat that just hang from him like pillows. So soft and so firm- OW, my chest. God, where was I? Yeah, so I’m in the sauna and he sits really close to me. Plenty of room, but parks right next to me. You know I don’t swing that way, but I’m kinda checking him out. He has these beautiful tattoos that curl around his biceps, a sleeve on the side next to me. As he’s relaxing he’s kind of flexing his arms and these things ripple like magic on him. They look so good. Augh. Crap. I feel so itchy dude. But he’s leaning in close. I don’t really even register that he’s talking to me. It’s this deep baritone that rubbles in my head, but it’s the way it bounces that I remember. I was zoning out, and started laughing. Bro- huh- I wish I remembered the joke- huhu- it was so-huhuhu ha. Shit bro. So he pulls me close to him, right in his big, strong arms. At this point I don’t know what’s happening to me. All I know is that he’s got me feeling strange. So loose. So free. Before I know it I’m face down on the bench. Sauna is pumping out this heat, steam surrounding us. But I’m not processing that. Behind me, there is a rhythmic pumping, pumping, pumping. Dude, I’m getting railed. But, like, I don’t even mind. In fact, it feels soooo good huhuuuuu. But that voice. He’s talking. Saying how he wants to breed me. Spread his seed. Make another muscular, tatted up stud like him. And I don’t know what happened. My body shivered when he said that. Suddenly it wasn’t my body anymore. It was his. His to use and shape however he wanted. It was like I was being reprogrammed from the inside. He was telling me how thick he wanted each muscle, how wide my neck needed to be. How thick my waist. How coarse my hair would be. Owww, shit this hurts. But it hurts so good. Maybe he wasn’t telling me bro, but I just felt it deep in me. And then, it happened. Man, it was so hot. I felt this twitch and pulse, and I was so full all of a sudden. It rushed through me. My… his… the cock just exploded deep in me. Coated my insides. I felt so good, like I knew what I needed to do- mmmmm fuuuck meeeeee…
What? What’s wrong? Look at myself?
Dude! I’m freaking huge. It looks like new me ate the old me. Bro, these muscles are sick. Look at how they stretch, I bet I can pull mad chicks with these. Girls would love to have these arms wrapped around them, holding them tight, flexing for them as I bury this- wait, dude, LOOK at this python. It’s practically stretched out of my briefs! I look just like me! Or, was it him? Or maybe us. Augh, it’s so confusing. My thoughts are like pudding. I feel so confused and angry and pent up. You have to help me. Dude, you okay? You’re looking at me funny. WOAH bro? Hey, that’s not funny. Stop looking at me like that. Stop looking so cute. Haha, no, dude I’m just-I’m just joshing. You’re just looking so… so good after your gym pump. I guess. Got me feeling kinda weird. Wait, no. Bro, something’s happening. Do you think it’s the muscles bro? These thick, juicy, sweaty muscles? Ngl, they do sound hot bro. You wanna feel them bruh? Huhu I bet you do. Just take a look at these. Boom. Yeah, looks pretty hot right? You’re not too bad yourself bruh. Why don’t you slip off that shirt and join me. It’s good to let those muscles breathe. No, bruh, you can’t go. You can’t leave me like this. Get me all riled up and leave. You’re looking so breedable right now brah, you must be focusing on those glutes. But why work so hard? Why not just let me train you, let me work out your sweet hole babe. I don’t know what will happen. That’s it. Good boy. Just let me hold you. You’re going to look so much better when I’m done with you. Yeah… I know what I want bro. No. I know what I need. I need to fill those fertile guts with my top notch seed. Yeah. That’s right. Calm down bro. Let me tell you what I think. I think you’re going to use my seed and grow into a stud yourself.
Don’t focus on my words bro. Focus on that feel. Riding this body’s like riding a Ferrari. You’re never gonna be the same afterwards.
You just helped one of my friends (@musclejedi-tameem) see what he would look like as a viking! Do you think you can do me too? I'd also be up to see some other versions of myself, if possible, though I'm ok with whatever you can give me! Thank you!
Sure thing, dude! I'm happy to show you what you'd look like as a modern-day Viking. Let me just fire up my machine again and calibrate it to your specs.
Bzzzt
Whirrr
Clank
Ding
...
Just a few more seconds and... there you go!
I think I've found a good reality for you. Let's see what you look like in this one...
I'll skip the overview of this world since you already know the basics from your friend's version. While technically not the same world, for all intents and purposes it's basically the same Viking reality, just with a few different details. I'll go over those in a moment, but first let's get to the good stuff - what you look like in this world.
There you are, looking every bit like the modern Viking man. Got messy blond hair tied up in a casual bun with loose strands falling around your face. And your body is just... wow. You're tall, easily 6'3", with crazy broad shoulders and a thick, powerful chest, which is covered in a dense mat of dirty blond hair. Hmmm... suits you well dude.
In this reality, you're a simple man. You work hard, you sweat hard, and you relax hard. I don't know if you like your brains scrambled or not, but in this world you're definitely a bit of a meathead. Not in a bad way, just... you know, more focused on the physical stuff. You probably don't know much about what's going on in the world, but you don't care. You're just happy to help with whatever needs doing, whether it's chopping wood, hauling heavy things, or just being a big, strong presence around the place. It's a simple life, but it's a good one. I hope you like it!
Look at you, chopping wood like a total beast! That axe looks tiny in your huge hands, and the way your muscles flex with every swing is just... damn.
They're kinda hypnotic, aren't they? Watching you sweat out there is making me want to touch those pecs, not gonna lie. And let's not even address the elephant in the room, or should I say the elephant in your pants... yeah, that thing is definitely not small. Judging by the way it bounces with every swing of the axe, it's definitely at least 8 inches long and thick as hell. I bet it feels amazing to have that much power down there, especially when you're working up a sweat like this. I can only imagine how good it must feel to have that thing bouncing around while you're out here doing manly stuff. Now, if only we could see how it looks when you're not wearing those pants... but I guess we'll have to save that for another time, huh? For now, let's just enjoy the sight of you chopping wood and sweating like a man.
Also, remember the small details I mentioned earlier? Well, let's just say that I managed to find a reality where you and your friend are buddies irl. So you know each other, hang out together, and just generally have a good time. Of course, in this reality you're both Vikings, so your hangouts usually involve a lot of sweating, drinking, and just being around each other in that big, hairy Viking way. It's a pretty great setup if you ask me.
Yep, you guys are definitely friends in this reality. I wonder what that beer tastes like? I wouldn't really know though, never drank alcohol myself. But every man in this reality seems to enjoy a good cold beer after a hard day's work, so I bet it's pretty damn good. You and your friend look like you're having a great time just chilling together, enjoying each other's company. It's a simple pleasure, but maybe feeling that manly camaraderie is what really matters in life, right? Just being around other big, strong dudes who get you and appreciate you for who you are. Maybe I could let you vacation here sometime, you know? Though staying for too long in another reality can have... consequences. Not that I think you would mind, since this place seems pretty great. But just something to keep in mind if you ever want to come back and visit.
Don't worry though, we're almost done here. I just want to show you one last thing before we wrap up:
The Nords really know a thing or two about relaxation, and the sauna is a big part of that. It's probably one of your favourite places in this reality, and I can see why.
The heat is intense, but it feels amazing on your muscles after a long day of hard work. You can just sit there, sweating it out, and let all the tension melt away. Plus, being in there with your mates just adds to the experience. You can talk about whatever you want, or just sit in comfortable silence while you enjoy the heat and the company. It's a great way to unwind and connect with each other after a long day of being a hunk.
If you get too close, you'll be able to smell the musk rolling off your body. It's not really a bad smell, it's just... manly. Can't even imagine how it smells when you're with your pals in there, all sweating and sharing that warm musk. It's probably one of the best smells in the world, honestly. Just don't get too close to the source, or you might get a little overwhelmed by it.
Relaxation aside, I think you look pretty damn good in this reality. I hope you like being a dumb, sweaty Viking lad, because that's what you are in this reality. And if you ever want to see what you look like in another reality, just let me know. The possibilities are endless! But for now, I hope you enjoyed this little glimpse into your Viking self. If you'd like some more time in this reality, I'll be waiting here for you the next few days so you can return, but don't take too long, okay? I don't want to have to deal with the consequences of you spending too much time in another reality.
AE-2319 was identified after multiple reports of adult males found in prolonged states of trance, typically seated or reclined, holding mobile devices at close range. In all cases, subjects were watching the same looping GIF and failed to respond to verbal or physical stimuli.
Recovered individuals presented with identical characteristics: full physical reformation accompanied by complete loss of prior identity, marked neglect in hygiene (persistent body odor, oily skin, unwashed clothing), and severely diminished cognitive function. Notably, each individual had regressed to a standardized late teenage (18-19 years of age) physiology, with concurrent alteration of their [REDACTED] to [REDACTED].
Subjects who were previously employed, educated, or socially active were described post-exposure as “vacant,” “lazy,” and “dumber.” Conversation centers on simple, repetitive topics, like school, homework, and girls, closely mirroring that of adolescent males. And culturally, the subjects [REDACTED].
FCA has restricted contact with family members to minimize distress and reduce dysphoria caused by exposure to individuals connected to the subject’s former life.
Digital tracing confirmed a single file shared across multiple platforms, often embedded in casual messages or reposted without context.
When discovered, subjects were engaged in the act of [REDACTED], locked in a near-trance state, eyes fixed on the GIF. Saliva was observed drooling down the corners of the mouth, eyes rolled back, while subjects [REDACTED].
Observation Notes:
AE-2319 is a short looping GIF (approx. 2–3 seconds in duration) depicting a blonde, college-aged male with a muscular body. The subject is wearing a USA-patterned speedo and performs a simple, repetitive motion, loosely shifting his shoulders from one side to the other in a relaxed, rhythmic sway.
The motion is continuous and seamless, with no clear beginning or end point. The subject’s expression is vacant but content, maintaining a vacant look throughout the loop. Body posture is loose, lacking tension or precision, giving the movement an effortless, almost careless quality.
Prolonged exposure results in full behavioral and physiological shift into a consistent baseline state.
—————————————————————————-
Case File – Subject A-3 (FKA: Miguel Hernandez):
Miguel had been at his family’s house all evening for Día de los Muertos, traveling back from Mexico City to his small hometown of [REDACTED], Mexico.
He was 29 now, working a big job in the city. His family was proud. It was better than taking over the family business, as they had once expected. He had built a life for himself: an apartment, a car, even a boyfriend. Though, his parents didn’t know about that last part.
Still, being back felt strange. He rarely visited unless it was Día de los Muertos or one of his abuelos had passed. He didn’t miss it here.
Outside, he leaned against the railing, smoking as the party roared inside. Music, laughter, and the constant bustle of relatives drifted through the open windows. Miguel didn’t resent it; he just wanted to disappear upstairs, away from the chaos.
By 11:45 PM, he decided to bow out with a smile. “Estoy cansado. Debe de ser por el vuelo,” he muttered, slipping away from the living room. He climbed the narrow stairs to his old bedroom—the one with pale blue walls, shelves crowded with trophies and dusty history books. He closed the door behind him, muffling the noise of the party, and sank onto the mattress.
The familiar smell of his teenage room hit him: a mix of old books, lingering incense, and faint dust. His parents had never changed it much. Miguel always assumed they still saw him as the boy he once was, a subtle invitation to move back in, even now.
He sank into the mattress, a wave of horniness washing over him. Pulling out his phone, he opened alt Twitter and scrolled through the usual images and videos of men in various sexual positions and acts —until he saw it: a small, unassuming GIF of a young male performing a smooth, looping motion. Something about it drew him in, though he couldn’t say why. He tapped it open.
At first, it was just a simple loop, mesmerizing in its rhythm. The figure moved easily, without effort, completely confident. Miguel leaned back, eyes narrowing. The sounds of the party faded—the music, the chatter, the footsteps—all dulled to a quiet hum.
Time lost meaning. Minutes, hours, years—he couldn’t tell. The loop consumed him. His shoulders slumped, jaw slackened, and his fingers curled loosely around the phone. He started to blank, not being able to think of anything else.
The gif felt like it was transporting from his phone into his eyes, shooting into his brain, causing him his eyes to shoot back and his body thump back like an invisible shot, as drool starts to pool in his mouth and leak.
Miguel tries to snap out of the trance like state but he feels like a puppet held in place by strings. He tries to think about something else. Anything else. His family! His family in Texas. No… Mexico? Wait. He wasn’t sure. Why can’t he remember? He knows something’s not right. But he can’t remember what. Why does his upbringing in Texas feel so… wrong.
What about his boyfriend… boyfriend… why can’t he remember his boyfriend’s name. And why would he have a boyfriend… if he liked girls… or did he. He couldn’t remember.
He knew he’d never been with a girl. He tells the bros he has, he would be humiliated if they knew he was lying. He was always too nervous. Anytime he tried to approach a girl after class, he’d chicken out, end up cycling home and beating his meat in bed to some pornstar’s big mommy milkers.
If only he had a car, so he could drive home. It would be so much faster. But he can’t even drive. Never got a license.
What about his business. He tried to think about his business in Mexico City. Where he sold… um… he… he had business? A business, like the ones he learns about in class. Yes, business class. He had homework to do? Fuck, he forgot. Mr. Iadanza is gonna be on his ass again. Telling him he’d make a better farm animal than a student.
It wasn’t just business Michael struggled with. He was a consistent C grade student. He just wasn’t naturally good at many of these things. Math, history, English. But he tried. The only subject he didn’t try at was his worst subject. The one he didn’t care about. Never paid attention to in class: Spanish. No matter how hard he tries to pay attention. It just doesn’t go in. It also didn’t help that his teacher had the biggest most distracting ass in school. Everyone talks about it. While Michael’s buddies were all out getting laid, he has busted many loads thinking about his Spanish teacher’s fat ass. God, he was such a loser.
Michael felt a drop of drool fall onto his pecs. He felt relaxed. He felt… normal. Chill. His cock standing painfully firm as he stroked it up and down. He couldn’t stop. Just imagining getting with his Spanish teacher and getting her pregnant. He couldn’t stop thinking about her… MOMMY TITS- “FUCKKKKKKKKK” he impregnated his sheets, his Latino heritage nothing more than a wet stain on his bed.
His phone shuts off.
Michael snapped out of it, absentmindedly brushing his hand through his blonde hair. “Fuck I’m lowkenuinely pathetic, bro” He wiped the drool from his pecs and shook his head as he looked around the room. “What the hell, bro. Where the hell am I?” Michael’s pits stained the bedsheets.
“¡Dios mío! ¿Dónde está Miguel? ¿Quién eres tú? ¡Juan!! ¡Ayuda!”
Michael looked up to a shrill woman screaming as she stood in the doorway staring at the big oversized white man in her son’s bed. Michael opened his eyes lazily, lounging like he owns the place.
The woman screams as she shuts the door, Michael hearing her footsteps running down the stairs.
Michael tried to open his phone, but his Face ID didn’t work “Fuck, I wonder if MommyPornXXX has posted anything new? And why is my phone in Spanish?”
—————————————————————————-
Observed Transformation – AE-2319 Exposure
Subjects exposed to AE-2319 consistently undergo a rapid cognitive and physiological regression to a stereotypical American high school male archetype, regardless of their original nationality. Cases have included individuals from Mexico, Sweden, India, and Japan, all of whom emerged post-exposure with the characteristics of 18 and 19-year-old American students as interpreted through mainstream media depictions.
The transformation includes:
Physical and Behavioral Regression: Subjects appear younger, slouched, unkempt, and physically underdeveloped relative to their prior adult form, with a compulsive habit of watching pornography. Personal hygiene declines sharply, including persistent body odor and unwashed clothing. Cognitive function is severely reduced, with subjects exhibiting limited social reasoning and impaired executive function.
Racial Changes: AE-2319 induces a complete genetic restructuring in affected subjects, rewriting their DNA to align with a single standardized template matching the male figure depicted in the GIF. This results in uniform physical transformation across all cases: subjects develop a muscular youthful build, simplified facial features, loss of body hair and consistent traits such as lighter hair (commonly blonde), regardless of original ethnicity or nationality. Subjects of other races are rewritten to become Caucasian, having no memory of their previous selves. Neurological changes occur simultaneously, with measurable reduction in higher cognitive function, including diminished reasoning, attention span, and overall intelligence. The rewrite extends beyond appearance, erasing genetic markers tied to ancestry and replacing them with those consistent with the imposed identity, effectively altering both biological origin and perceived nationality. This process is uniform and non-adaptive, forcing all subjects into the same predefined physical and cognitive state rather than modifying them individually. Observer [REDACTED] has noted that some subjects have sexual preferences for women of their original nationality, with originally Japanese subject [REDACTED], now white, but showing extreme attraction towards Japanese women.
Linguistic changes: Linguistic changes are immediate and absolute. Subjects become fluent in English while losing all prior language ability. In one recorded case, a subject from India with no prior English proficiency became fully Caucasian and fluent in English post-exposure and demonstrated no recognition of Hindi as a language, expressing confusion when it was referenced, stating that he thought they spoke “Indian” in India.
Social and Sexual Reorientation: Exposed individuals demonstrate a sexual orientation aligned with perceived high school norms. Notably, a previously homosexual subject showed attraction exclusively to women post-exposure. Social interactions are awkward; subjects lack confidence in communication, particularly with women, displaying heightened embarrassment and nervous behaviors. In several cases, they engage in watching pornography —compulsive, ritualized behaviors hypothesized to release shame or tension. Subjects do not engage in sex, despite having mommy and breeding fetishes, as their addictions to masturbation and pornography keep them away from it. These behaviors appear to be implanted by the anomaly rather than learned.
Cultural Assimilation: Language, mannerisms, and cultural identity are completely overwritten following exposure. Subjects display no memory of their original nationality or upbringing and instead express strong identification with the United States, often speaking about it with misplaced pride and familiarity. All subjects insist they were “born in the mid-2000s,” and behave accordingly. Speech patterns shift to contemporary American Gen Z slang, with frequent use of phrases such as “67,” “goon-brained,” “lowkey,” and “bro.”
Reintegration Protocol – AE-2319
Five subjects have been successfully placed with FCA-approved host families within the United States to resolve residual identity instability. Placement has resulted in near-total behavioral normalization. Subjects demonstrate immediate comfort within suburban environments, integrating into routines of school attendance, casual sports participation, social media use, and extended periods of passive inactivity. No subject has questioned their identity, location, or circumstances.
Each subject has been enrolled in a local high school. Academic performance is consistently low but within acceptable range; teachers report disengagement, distraction, and minimal effort. Socially, subjects attempt to conform but exhibit noticeable awkwardness, particularly in interactions with female peers. Repeated embarrassment responses have been observed, followed by withdrawal and engagement in pornography. These cycles appear self-reinforcing and contribute to overall behavioral stability.
Host families report subjects as “normal,” if somewhat disappointing. Common observations include poor hygiene, cluttered living spaces, excessive phone dependence, and lack of long-term goals. These traits align precisely with the imposed identity profile and are therefore not considered anomalies.
All environments are under continuous FCA surveillance. Personal devices are monitored, conversations recorded, and movement subtly restricted. Subjects are provided with curated
Notably, subjects express consistent satisfaction with their current state. One subject from Mexico, when prompted with archival footage of his previous life, responded: “Who is this NPC? He looks kinda sus, bro.”
Image of Miguel Hernandez (29-years-old) before exposure:
Miguel Hernandez after exposure (now, Michael Hudson; 19-years-old):
Source Status – AE-2319
The original source file of AE-2319 has been located and traced to an upload originating from the imageboard site 4chan. The thread and associated accounts have since been deleted, with no recoverable user data or archive records remaining. The identity and intent of the original poster are unknown.
Preliminary speculation suggests the GIF may have been a deliberate experiment—potentially a failed attempt by an individual or entity within the United States to culturally homogenize populations, enforce American teenage archetypes globally, or suppress reproductive potential by reducing social skills with women and promoting compulsive solo sexual behaviors.
All known copies of the GIF have been systematically removed from public networks. At present, it is believed the only surviving instance exists within FCA containment. Investigation continues, and efforts are underway to identify and interrogate the original poster to determine purpose and origin.
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I love your stories! I was wondering if there might be a way for me to see myself as a Viking warrior like my ancestors were.
Sure! It's been a while since I've used my quantum machine, but I can give it a try. Just sit back and relax while I work my magic.
I think I found a good one.
Ready?
Here we go...
...
Ah, here we are. Welcome to a world where the Vikings thrived and their legacy shaped the entire course of history.
In this alternate reality, the Viking Age never came to an end. Instead of fading away due to internal conflicts and religious changes, a few strong jarls managed to forge powerful alliances that held together. The medieval warm period gave Scandinavia richer harvests, more young men, and bigger families. Raiding continued, but it was just one part of a thriving culture that also built cities, traded across continents, and developed a strong sense of identity.
The settlers who stayed in the lands they conquered intermarried with the locals, breeding a population of strong, capable men who dominated the scene for centuries. Over centuries the Norse way of life simply proved more successful. Local men either joined in or got outnumbered. By the time the industrial era rolled around, the dominant male look worldwide had become tall, broad, thick-skinned, bearded, and naturally hairy. Just centuries of one group of strong, fertile men winning so completely that everyone else became them. Modern society still runs exactly like ours (technology is the same) but every single man wakes up in a powerful Viking frame because that's just what being a normal guy means now.
And fuck, man... you wear it better than I imagined.
There you are, standing tall in the middle of the forest like you own the fucking place. You're wearing some traditional clothes: a heavy dark-brown fur vest hanging open over your massive chest, with a round metal shield strapped across your torso like a proper Viking warrior. Long, wavy blond hair cascades over your shoulders, framing a rugged, grinning face with a thick dirty-blonde beard and that perfectly curled moustache.
Underneath the ceremonial gear your body is the real star though: those arms are absolute cannons - they are veiny, pumped, and ready for anything. The vest only half-covers your thick heavy pecs dusted with blond hair that runs deep into your cleavage. You shift your weight and feel those powerful thighs rub together, your heavy cock and balls swinging loose in the air. This isn't what you wear every day though. In normal life you're usually in a simple t-shirt (or nothing at all) and shorts, but damn, you make the traditional look fucking sick.
Your job in this world? Heavy work at some docks. You're shirtless under the sun because every other guy in your crew does the same. Sweat rolls down your broad chest, soaking the thick hair between your pecs and tracing shiny paths over ridged abs. Your arms are pumped from real labour, like lifting heavy crates or hauling ropes. Every move makes your muscles shift and flex. The other guys are built just like you, but damn, you stand out. It's like you were born for this job, and every drop of sweat just makes you look even more powerful and masculine.
Back at your place you're even hotter. Kicked back on the couch after a long day, shirt completely off, one thick arm slung along the backrest. The sweat from the docks still clings to you, rolling down the grooves of your abs and soaking into the waistband of your shorts. You catch a whiff of your own ripe musk - it's salty, manly, and makes your cock twitch a bit. The way your big frame fills the entire couch makes it obvious: this body was built to take up space and feel good doing it. You look so fucking relaxed in all that muscle, like you were born to be this big and hairy.
And after your shift, what better way to unwind than with the boys at the pub? Fuck, look at the three of you crammed together at that table, big arms slung heavy and easy over each other's shoulders. To your left sits a darker man from your crew. He's not as pure as you, but the Viking blood still runs through him. His dark-haired chest that contrasts beautifully with yours. To your right, your neighbour in the grey hoodie has his own beefy, hairy pecs on full display, with a thick beard that rivals your own.
All three of you are holding full pints, with foam still thick on top. The air around your table is thick with that rich, manly aroma. You lean back a bit more, feeling the solid weight of your mates against you, and let out a deep laugh that rumbles through your chest, making it jiggle. This is how your nights here usually end: just you and your lads, no need for anything else but good company and the simple joy of being this strong together.
---
So yeah dude, in this reality, you didn't "become" a Viking warrior. You simply are one. The default setting for every man is tall, thick, bearded, and quietly proud of how fucking good it feels to carry this kind of strength. Modern comforts are all still here, but everything hits different when you're built like this.
So what do you think? Do you like this version of yourself? Would you want to live in a world like this? I hope you liked the little trip, and if you want to see more of this world or explore other versions of yourself, just let me know!
Hi, big fan of your work ! (English is not my native language, so sorry for my mistakes.)
In your recent post about the descendants of werewolves (my favorite creature !), you introduce us to Beasts and their nightly transformations.
But what would hapen if a Beast enters a transformation area like Maxford or Baxter Beach ? Would both their forms be affected or only one ? Or will they somehow influence the power of the town/beach/wherever ?
Since I’ve introduced you guys to transformation areas, I’ve mainly focused on Maxford, since it's one of the largest, and to be honest one of the most interesting transformation areas that exist. But for a complicated question like this, it makes more sense to focus on one of the smaller and more controlled transformation areas, which brings us back to another place I introduced you to early on, known as Baxter Beach.
For those of you who don’t remember, Baxter Beach is another transformation area, a small beach somewhere on the American east coast that transforms anyone who walks onto the sand into a hunky surfer for as long as they stay there. There's also a small surf shop that can extend the transformation of those who enter the area for some time, but we’ll get into that some other time. What we’re going to focus on for now is how Baxter Beach, and other transformation areas like it, affect those who aren’t quite human. Not just Beasts, but Alphas, Camous, and even Trait Vampires.
Let's start with the group you’re most familiar with, Alphas. The other descendants of werewolves besides Beasts, Alphas are incredibly manly men who are so naturally dominant that reality itself submits to their will. Men who get the entire world handed to them on a silver platter, by people who will become whatever their Alpha decides. The thing is, with a place like Baxter Beach, an area with a sort of will all of its own, Alpha's power can get a bit more… interesting. When an Alpha and a TF area come into contact, they don’t come into conflict like many people assume they would, but instead tend to form an almost symbiotic relationship. The Alpha and the area become intertwined, at least for as long as the Alpha stays in the area. The Alpha gains even more control and power than they normally would have, and the area gains more direction and strength. For example, if an Alpha were to come in contact with Baxter Beach, the Alpha would become a hunky surfer on the outside, well keeping their true self intact internally. They’d then have almost complete control over the area, not only the people but the physical area itself, able to warp and play with it with ease. They’d be able to focus the natural power of the beach in any way they wanted, and even somewhat increase the beach’s area of effect. An Alpha finding a TF area can be very, very dangerous, because as long as they stay in that area, the Alpha is essentially a god. The only limitation they’d have is that the Alpha has to stay ‘on brand’ as it were. They can do anything… as long as it’s beach related. All that being said, it is possible that something else could happen, if it were a particularly strong Alpha, or a particularly powerful area.
Next up is Camous. For those who don’t remember, Camous are essentially the opposite of Alphas, people who don’t control reality, but who conform to fit into it. Surround a Camou with a group of gym bros, you get another obnoxious gym bro. Throw a Camou into a gay nightclub, you get a cute twink ready to rave. For an Alpha a tf area is a gift, but for a Camou, they’re basically death sentences. Camous already naturally submit to their environment, but when they come in contact with a tf area, an environment that makes even regular people submit, they essentially become a part of the area itself. They undergo an intense transformation, becoming a pinnacle of whatever the area makes their victims into, and become a sort of conduit for the area's power, one that remains even after leaving the area. For example, if a Camou were to enter Baxter Beach, they’d become a hunky surfer like everyone else, but they’d notably remain one after leaving the area. Not only that, they’d make those around them hunky surfers too, at least for a while, essentially becoming a moving part of the Beach’s influence. In a way, the area infects them, turning the Camou into a part of the area itself and making them a permanent resident. Some Camous will actually seek out tf areas, since well it does change them, it protects them from being changed again and gives them a solid sense of self, something many Camous crave. Of course, they have to pick the area very carefully, or else they might become something they hate.
Another interesting group that can interact with tf areas are trait vampires, although their way of doing this is a lot simpler. Trait vampires, surprisingly, are affected by tf areas at all. No one is quite sure why, but a trait vampire stays exactly the same when inside the tf area, with the only notable difference being that they can’t steal any of the traits created by the area for themselves. One thing they can do, however, is alter some specifics of how the area affects people. For example, if a trait vampire were to walk onto Baxter Beach, they wouldn’t transform, or be able to steal someone's muscles, but they could make it so one of the hunky surfers was a beefy lifeguard instead, or a giant beach bodybuilder. They can make it so that the beach has to ‘reroll’ and transform the person in another way than they initially picked. This isn’t very useful, but can be fun for a trait vampire looking to play with their powers a bit.
Finally, let's go to your favorite group, the Beasts. Regular guys who undergo nightly transformations into incredibly manly, gruff men, ones with animalistic impulses and the need to fuck. They can spread their curse through unprotected sex, but are generally harmless as long as you have a condom. When a Beast interacts with a transformation area, they can actually gain another form. For instance, if a Beast were to enter Baxter Beach, they’d remain unchanged, and would still become their Beast self at night, but might gain the condition that they become a surfer when they touch salt water. This new, extra form will stay with the Beast, even after they leave the area, so most Beasts avoid tf areas so they don’t end up gaining a third persona.
Well it can be complicated, and dangerous to test, seeing how different transformations interact can be so fascinating. I’d definitely like to explore that a lot more in the future.
AE-786 presents itself as a plain 24-karat golden ring, 22 mm in diameter, with no visible engravings, markings or anomalous radiation under standard testing. When placed on the finger of a living human being the ring fuses to skin and bone, becoming a permanent part of the wearer's body. From that moment the wearer becomes the king and gains the ability to propagate the effect through any skin-to-skin contact. Each new instance becomes an exact physical and mental replica of the king but without a ring. Replicas retain the same propagation ability until the ring is removed from its host. The effect includes rapid physical overwriting, cognitive simplification and compulsive drive to obey the king.
The exact origin of AE-786 remains unknown. Moreover, proximity to AE-786 has been observed to cause unexplained malfunctions in nearby electronic devices. The effect is selective and not replicable under a controlled environment.
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Incident Report: AE-786-001
Pierre ████, 22, slim and pale with brown hair and brown eyes, was on a two-week backpacking trip through ██████ when he joined a half-day guided tour of █████ ███. It was quiet that afternoon, most tourists having left after the morning, and Pierre was one of only a handful of visitors still there when the tour ended.
Being a typical gen-Z tourist, Pierre was more interested in taking selfies than the history of the place. At that moment, he was so focused on getting a good angle that he didn't notice where he was walking. He tripped over a loose stone and stumbled forward, crashing on the floor. Angry at the stupid piece of rock that had ruined his perfect photo, he kicked it in frustration. His kick was a bit too hard, and the stone went flying, hitting a nearby wall and cracking the surface of the rock.
A faint light caught his eye from the crack. Curious, he knelt down and looked at the piece of garbage rock he had just kicked. Rocks usually didn't glow, he thought. He kicked it again, trying to break it open. The cracks grew wider, and the light grew brighter. Some more kicks later, the stone finally split in half, revealing the source of the light: a plain golden ring completely encased in the rock, as if someone had melted the stone around it. The ring was perfectly smooth, with no markings or engravings, and it glowed with a warm golden light that seemed to pulse gently. It was almost hypnotic, drawing Pierre's gaze and making him forget about everything else for a moment.
He reached in and scrabbled around the jagged edges of the broken rock, trying to get a better grip on the ring. When he finally pulled it out, he turned it over in his hands, admiring its beauty. It was heavier than it looked: solid gold, perfectly smooth, and strangely warm to the touch. He slipped it into his pocket, hoping no one would notice. Stealing something from a historical place was definitely not on his bucket list, but who would pass up the chance to make some good money with a find like this? He planned to sell it online once he got back home, maybe even get it appraised by a jeweller. Little did he know, this ring was worth far more than any jeweller could ever estimate.
That night he checked into a cheap hostel in ███ with some other guys he'd met in this trip. Alone in his room, he pulled the ring out of his pocket and examined it under the dim light. The light reflected off the smooth surface, casting a warm golden glow on his face. He turned it over again, feeling the weight of it in his hand. On a whim, he slipped it on. The moment it touched his skin, a warm tingle shot through him, starting at the fingertip and spreading up his arm.
Oh putain, what the f-
He tried to pull it off. It wouldn't budge.
He cursed in French, tugged harder, then gave up and stared at his hand in disbelief. The ring was fused to his finger, the surrounding skin already starting to change colour.
The tingle intensified, spreading rapidly up his arm. It rolled outward from his finger in slow waves. His breath hitched. His legs were shaking. He had to sit on the bed to keep from falling over, all while the ring glowed brighter and brighter.
His pale skin began to change at the knuckles first. The soft pink colour deepened in waves, spreading up his hand and forearm.
First, it shifted to a warm golden beige, like he'd gotten a short tan at the beach. Then, the skin thickened and tightened as the colour deepened to a rich gleaming bronze.
The veins on his hand and forearm became more pronounced, pushing up under the new skin. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain that made his head spin. The colours moved up his arms, across his chest, down his stomach, every new centimetre of bronze skin sending a pulse of bliss straight to his groin.
His shoulders rounded and broadened with a deep, satisfying stretch. The sensation of his muscles swelling under his skin was intoxicating, making him moan softly. His biceps ballooned, the veins pushing up under the fresh thick skin. Pierre flexed without thinking, groaning loud as the growth made his cock throb and lengthen. His previously flat chest was replaced as 2 fat slabs pushed outwards into perfectly round pecs, nipples darkening and fattening into sensitive nubs. He pinched one on instinct and gasped - the spark shot straight down his spine and made his balls draw up tight.
Then, his abs started popping. Eight perfect blocks carved themselves into his stomach, framed by sharp obliques that would have made a fitness model jealous. His quads exploded outward, each leg thicker than his old waist. His ass rounded into two powerful, bouncy globes that clenched immediately as the friction of the damp hairs down there made him groan even louder.
Pierre stared at his hands, now huge and bronze. The gold ring had literally fused to his finger, zero hopes of getting it out now. His face shifted next. Those lips of his plumped fuller. Across his face, thick black stubble sharpened into a neat modern beard. His hair thickened, darkening to a jet black shade, and fell straight on his head. He didn't look that much French anymore.
Finally, between his legs, the last change hit him hard. His dick thickened and lengthened into a heavy piece. The foreskin retracted bit by bit as his cock grew longer and longer until there was no more foreskin to turn into length. His balls grew heavier, dropping lower and full, already heavy with seed. Pre-cum beaded at the slit of his new monster cock as he gave the shaft one slow, lazy stroke. The thick scent of him filled the room now, rolling off his pits and groin. He lifted one massive arm without thinking and inhaled deep. Fuck, that smelled right.
The thick, heady musk rolling off his body hit him like a drug. Pierre’s mind tried to cling to the last scraps of who he had been, but every fresh pulse of bronze burned those thoughts away like they'd never existed. A slow, predatory grin spread across his newly bearded face. The final flicker of his old self vanished. In its place, a new persona had emerged: King Karim - yes that's who he was.
He glanced around the small room like he was seeing it for the first time. His thick brows furrowed for half a second. Why the fuck was he in this shithole? This wasn't his place. His palace, that's where a man like him belonged, not this little box that stank of cheap bleach under his own heavy musk.
Kings do not ask. Kings take. Kings are worshipped.
The thought passed on his mind. He shrugged it off, the motion making his heavy pecs bounce. Whatever mistake had landed him here, he'd correct it. Starting now.
He gave his circumcised cock another casual tug, pre-cum smearing over his thumb, then wrestled into the ridiculous small clothes he saw on top of the bed.
He first grabbed a tank top and put it on. The white cotton stretched thin over his dark nipples, practically see-through now, clinging wet where sweat had already started forming. The jeans were worse - he had to force them up his thighs. The waist wouldn't close, not even close, so he left the button undone and the zip halfway, letting his heavy cock and balls push out against the front like they were trying to escape. Pre-cum had already darkened a small spot on his stretched underwear. Whatever. He'd sort proper clothes later. Satisfied enough for now, he stepped out of the room into the dimly lit hallway.
The corridor was quiet. A few doors down, Lucas - another backpacker he had spent the whole evening chatting and laughing with in the common room - stepped out, backpack slung over his shoulder, clearly trying to go out quietly. Lucas froze when he saw the massive bronze Arab stallion filling the hallway, his muscles gleaming under the cheap lights.
"Oh, hey. Do you know Pierre?" Lucas blurted while staring at the monster bulge the man was carrying around. "That is his room - where is he? I wanted to ask him something."
Karim tilted his head, looking at the smaller man up and down. His voice came out deep, in an ancient tongue.
أقبل إليّ، يا عبد. اسجد لملكك
(Come to me, my servant. Kneel before your king.)
Lucas blinked hard, backing up a step. "What? I don't understand you man. You speak French or English? Where’s Pie-"
صمت. حلقك للخدمة، لا للكلام. اسجد، أو أعلمك طاعة الملوك
(Silence. Your throat is for service, not for speech. Prostrate, or I will teach you the obedience of kings.)
Lucas's hands flew up. "I already told you, I don't understand you. I don't know what you're sayi-"
Karim lunged at him. His massive hand clamped around Lucas's throat, suffocating him. He slammed the backpacker against the wall with a heavy thud. "Let... go..." Lucas wheezed, clawing at the forearm. "What the fuck are you-"
His speech was interrupted as the bronze started spreading where their skin met. Heat spread from Karim's fingers, flooding up Lucas's neck in quick, warm waves. It hit his jaw first, then poured down over his chest like oil slicking over pale skin. Lucas's eyes went wide, his pupils blowing out as the colour washed over him.
"No… no, let me g-" Lucas begged, voice cracking as his shoulders rounded and broadened with audible pops. The heat rushed into his arms next: his biceps swelled dramatically, veins pushing up under skin that was no longer pale but gleaming bronze. His chest pushed forward into heavy slabs while his abs popped out one by one, each new ridge sending a throb straight to his cock.
A black beard erupted across his face in seconds, thick and perfectly groomed, framing a squared jaw that suddenly felt like it had always belonged to him. His voice deepened mid-sentence, dropping into the same rich timbre as the man pinning him.
Please... I don't want-fuck... this... too good...
The last scraps of Lucas flickered out like dying embers. In their place rose pure aching devotion. His hands stopped clawing and gripped Karim's forearm like a lifeline. A low, reverent moan rolled out of his new throat.
"My king..."
King Karim held him pinned, all while smirking coldly. "You are mine now." - he said again in that foreign tongue. Lucas' black t-shirt tore down the front as his pecs ballooned further, nipples darkening at the same time. His legs grew, and his spine elongated, making him touch the floor now. His cock settled into the exact same heavy cut length as the man grabbing him. Between his legs, the balls dropped lower and heavier, going into mass production. His hairier pits started oozing the same strong masculine odour as the man in front of him.
The king then loosened the grip just enough for a shuddering breath, and dropped him. Lucas crashed to his knees, face level with the king's bulging crotch.
Karim laughed, grabbing Lucas' hair and yanking his head back. "Yeah, that's it. Worship your fucking king like the pathetic little servant you are." He pulled the zip the rest of the way down and fed his heavy cock straight into the eager mouth. Lucas Karim sucked greedily, moaning around the fat flared head while the king face-fucked him slow and deep against the wall, slapping his cheek every few thrusts. Thick ropes of cum flooded the new Karim's throat while both men groaned filthily.
All the noise from that interaction drew attention however. A door opened behind them, and a guy poked his head out. "What the hell is going on out here?"
King Karim pulled out, still hard, and clapped the man on the bare shoulder in a friendly grip. Ninety seconds later he was gone. In his place stood another bronze giant, with the same heavy pecs, face, and cock as the other two. He flexed once, admiring the manly scent rolling off him, and fell in line.
...
The night receptionist - a 25-year-old local guy with an average build - looked up from behind the desk as three muscular men approached. "Everything alright, guys?"
King Karim leaned over the counter with a cocky smile and offered his big hand.
The moment the receptionist shook it the change slammed into him. Karim and the two replicas leaned on the counter, watching intently as the man gasped. His skin bronzed rapidly, shoulders popping and biceps growing. His chest pushed out into heavy pecs that stretched his blue shirt to its limit. The exact same black beard sprouted across his face in seconds. His trousers tented obscenely as his cock grew into the exact same impressive size as the other 3 men. His eyes went white for a bit, as he calmed down and recognised the man in front of him.
"My king..." he'd said just like the other 2 had before him.
The three of them quickly dragged the newest Karim into the small back office behind the desk, locked the door, and went wild. King Karim bent the newest replica over the desk and bred him deep from behind while the others took turns feeding their thick cocks down his moaning throat in a filthy chain. Cum spilled everywhere while the room filled with the thick scent of four identical Arab gods.
When they finally stepped back out into the corridor they followed the King's instructions and slipped through the front exit. The streets were still and quiet under a low grey mist that morning. King Karim and his servants moved through it in search of more. This place was not fit for a king like him, but he could change that. He just needed more subjects to serve him, to worship him, to spread his influence. This place would be his kingdom, and everyone in it would be his loyal subject. He just had to find them. Then, he could start building his palace again.
Many people were unfortunate enough to encounter Karim that morning. As it was foggy and quiet, the first few victims were simply people who happened to be outside at the wrong time.
A lone delivery cyclist pedalling past at the traffic lights was touched on the shoulder as he slowed for a red light. He didn't even make a sound - just froze mid-pedal, bike coming to a stop as the colour spread across his skin and his body thickened. He dismounted without a word, following the others into the mist.
...
Two early-morning joggers in the small park across the road also fell victim to the curse as they were touched during their cool-down stretches - one while bending to tie her shoe, the other mid-lunge. The first one only had time for one horrified "No-" before a cock surged between her legs. After turning into identical chiselled gods, they stood there for a moment, taking in the new sensations of their powerful bodies and the intoxicating scent rolling off their skin. They understood what they had to do next, spreading out into the city to find more subjects for their king.
Even the night-shift workers at a nearby warehouse were not safe. A few of them had stepped outside for a smoke break, when a random Karim strolled by and casually touched one of them on the shoulder. This triggered a chain reaction as the new Karim then touched another worker, who touched another, and so on. In less than an hour, the entire night shift of 14 workers had been transformed into identical Arab stallions, all following the same instinctual drive to serve their king and spread the kingdom further. The warehouse was left completely empty and silent, with only the sound of heavy footsteps echoing through the halls as the new Karims went out into the city.
On the other side of the block, an unfortunate old taxi driver was waiting for a fare when a Karim leaned through his driver's window asking for "directions". The driver was a grimy old man with a hunched back and a scruffy beard, but as soon as Karim's hand touched his skin, that was no longer the case. Inside the small cab his body reshaped fast: belly tightening, and arms swelling thick. A groomed beard framed his squared jaw and his trousers tented hard as something thick like a beer can surged between his legs. No longer a decrepit old man, his eyes went wide with the new sensations flooding his body, but he knew what he had to do.
By 06:30 the streets were unnaturally empty. People who had stepped outside for a smoke or to walk their dog simply... vanished. The few who were outside were either already transformed or in the process of transforming, standing frozen in place as their bodies reshaped to accommodate the King's vision of perfection. We suspect that at least 25 people had already been converted by that time, and the number was growing exponentially as the new replicas spread out to find more subjects.
Our containment team arrived at 07:18 after DNA alerts spiked across ███.
Mobile units reported the streets had gone unnaturally quiet. Overhead drone thermal imaging picked up a single massive heat cluster on a disused gym two blocks from the hostel - dozens of identical high-temperature signatures packed together. The team moved in with full hazmat suits and reinforced gloves, expecting resistance.
The raid on the gym where the prime had taken refuge turned eerie almost immediately. Body-cam footage shows the prime seated like a king on a living throne made of two replicas lying side by side on the floor, their broad backs and shoulders forming the seat while he rested his weight on them. Two more knelt at his feet, tongues slowly licking and massaging his toes. The rest circled them in an orgy, sucking and grinding together without a single word besides the grunts and moans from their actions. The air inside reeked of sex and the king's thick masculine smell. No one looked up when our team breached the door. The king merely tilted his head, framing a bored smirk, and gave a short command that made the foot-worshippers pause.
The first agents advanced. Agent ████ reached to cuff the nearest replica. The replica turned, grabbed his wrist in a casual bro-hug grip, and yanked hard. The reinforced cuff of the hazmat suit ripped at the seam from the force, exposing the agent's body. The replica's bare fingers went down there immediately. Bronze spread up agent ████'s arm quickly. His skin darkened like the other men before them. He tried to scream, but the scream was cut off the instant his vocal cords thickened. His entire torso just inflated in one violent surge, pecs splitting the suit open. His eyes rolled back before the beard even sprouted. When they focused again they were empty of everything except worship. He dropped the cuffs and groaned "Hm-my... k-king..." in a voice already identical to the others. Two more agents were touched in the sudden scramble before the line could fall back.
The remaining team fell back, deploying sedative gas canisters from a distance. The newly converted agents were sedated before they could do anything. In the confusion the prime was pinned under other replicas that fell on top of him. He thrashed violently, still barking commands even as the tranquillisers took hold.
After sedation, our team secured the perimeter and began a systematic search for the source of this anomalous contagion.
Our initial scans showed no obvious vector - no aerosol, no fluid exchange in progress, no visible pathogen markers. All of them had the exact same physical and genetic profile, down to the smallest detail: same facial features, same heavy musculature, same reproductive organs, same odour. Yet, cross-analysis of all the unconscious instances in that gym revealed something interesting: only one of them was wearing a ring, which glowed with a faint golden light barely visible to the naked eye.
Our field team tried to remove the ring from the prime's finger, but it was of no use. A quick X-ray analysis revealed that the anomalous gold object was fused to the finger. There was no separation line from bone or tissue. This was a good lead - the ring was likely the source of the contagion, and removing it would be the key to containing the anomaly. Attempts to cut the ring free with remote laser tools were unsuccessful however, as the ring's material properties seemed to adapt and resist any cutting method.
With sedation holding the prime instance in place, the team had a moment to assess the situation. The sedatives wouldn't last long enough for another team to arrive with more specialised equipment, so field command authorised digit amputation as an emergency containment measure. Utilising a bone saw, the team carefully amputated the finger with the ring still attached, taking care to avoid any skin contact with the prime instance. The digit came off in under thirty seconds. The moment it did, every replica in the room instantly stopped moving, going limp as if a switch had been flipped.
Anomaly Entity Status: [CONTAINED FOR STUDY]
The severed finger and ring were recovered intact and sealed for analysis. 42 identical males, including the three converted agents, were taken into custody that morning. Those were all the instances that we could find around ███ at the time.
All known instances of AE-786 are secured at ███████. AE-786-001 had to be given special medical care after the amputation, but is now stable and under heavy sedation. The other 41 replicas are currently in standard containment, as the anomaly seems to have lost its active properties after the AE-786-001 was separated from the ring. They are being monitored for any changes in behaviour or physical condition, but so far they have remained docile and compliant with no king to rule over them.
After some organic deterioration, we have managed to separate the ring from the severed finger. We are currently running a battery of tests on it to better understand its properties. It emits a faint electromagnetic field that seems to interact with living tissue in a way that triggers the transformation process. The exact mechanism of how it does this is still unclear, but we are hopeful that further analysis will shed light on this.
The public is currently unaware of the incident, and we are working to keep it that way. Most of the affected area has been cordoned off, and a cover story about a chemical spill is being circulated to explain the evacuation and the presence of hazmat teams. We are also in contact with local authorities to ensure that any information leaks are contained.
Inspired by @jerkingnerds2jock latest story, I really liked it. Go check him out! He writes amazing stories, and could use some love (and commissions) lately.
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I have a bit more time since I'm done with my exams, but I'll probably first work on finishing the writing for the new Asian Flu story. Thanks for asking!
My brother and his buddy, Jax, took off to grab beers, leaving Jax’s pride and joy sitting in our driveway. It’s a beast of a machine, matte black, aggressive angles, totally terrifying. But it’s the helmet sitting on the seat that draws me in.
It’s one of those high-end ones I see all over my For You page. You know the ones. Videos of faceless, jacked guys with veins popping out of their arms, revving their engines, looking like dangerous, sexy robots. I’ve probably watched a thousand of those clips, just… curious. Wondering what it feels like to be that anonymous. To be that powerful.
I reach out, my skinny, pale hand trembling a little. The helmet is heavy. It smells like leather, gasoline, and him. It smells like Jax. That thick, musky scent of sweat and expensive cologne hits me, and for some reason, my dick twitches in my jeans.
"Just a second," I whisper to the empty garage. "Just to see."
I pull it over my head.
It’s a tight squeeze. My ears burn as they scrape past the padding. But once it settles? Silence. The world outside is muffled. It’s just me and the smell of Jax wrapping around my face. It feels claustrophobic and incredibly, undeniably hot.
CLICK.
The strap locks under my chin. I didn’t touch it.
Before I can panic, the visor slams down. A blue HUD flickers to life right in front of my eyes, glowing neon against the darkness.
SYSTEM INITIALIZED.
USER: UNAUTHORIZED.
CALIBRATING PHYSIQUE…
"What the fu..."
My voice is cut off by a sudden, searing heat in my chest. It’s not pain, exactly. It’s pressure. Like someone hooked an air compressor to my bloodstream.
Zzzzzzt.
A shock jolts down my spine, and my arms jerk outward. I watch through the tinted glass, helpless, as my forearms begin to bubble. The skin pulls tight, tanning instantly from pale ivory to a deep, sun-baked bronze. Thick, blue ropes of veins snake their way up from my wrist, pulsing in time with the thudding bass now blasting in my ears.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
"Oh god," I groan, but the voice that comes out is deeper. Rougher. "F-fuck..."
My t-shirt shreds. It literally explodes off my body as my pecs slab onto my chest, blowing up like airbags. My shoulders widen with a sickening crunch, forcing my arms out to the sides. I feel like a biological machine, being upgraded in real-time.
My vision blurs. The text on the HUD is scrolling faster now.
My head is swimming. I try to remember my major. I try to remember why I was scared. But it’s getting harder to think. The vibration in the helmet is scrambling my brains, turning my gray matter into mush.
Why was I worried?
Muscles feel good.
Tight feels good.
My jeans are the next casualty. My thighs balloon outward, thick as tree trunks, ripping the denim at the seams. My cock is agonising. It swells up thick and heavy. It pushes against the zipper of my jeans until the metal teeth pop open. I can feel the head of my dick rubbing raw against the coarse denim. It is leaking pre cum like a faucet. Sticky hot fluid soaks my underwear. I am throbbing so hard it makes my vision blur.
I’m not me anymore. I’m just a body. A host for the helmet.
The panic is gone. It’s replaced by a dull, throbbing need. My mind is empty, smooth, and quiet. There are no thoughts, only directives.
1. Be big.
2. Be dumb.
3. Fuck Jax.
I swing a massive leg over the bike. The suspension groans under my new weight, 240 pounds of dense, fuck-meat. I catch my reflection in the side mirror.
The guy looking back isn’t me. He’s a monster. Massive traps, striated shoulders, veins pulsing with lust. I’m faceless. Anonymous. Just a piece of ass in a tank top and a helmet, waiting for orders.
I grab the handlebars. My hands are huge, swallowing the grips. I look back over my shoulder, striking the pose. The exact pose from the videos. Ass out, biceps flexed, visor reflecting the world I’m about to conquer.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, my brother asking where I am. I don't even look at it.
A drooling grin spreads across my face. I look like such a stud in the mirror. Huge arms. Veiny hands. A massive bulking package leaking inside my pants.
I swing my leg over the bike. The suspension sinks under my new weight. I feel powerful. I feel sexy. I feel like a total slut for Jax.
I start the engine. The vibration travels right up into my crotch and makes me groan.
